“Where do you live, Francesca?” I ask, as apropos of nothing she smiles sweetly at me again. I pretend not to notice that she has a little fleck of green something on one of her front teeth, just as I pretend I do not already know the answer to the question I have just asked. Just as, all evening, I have been pretending not to know that it is Fay Roper who is sitting across the table from me.
