Flowers of Darkness by Tatiana Rosnay (e novels to read online TXT) 📕

a pen, and two notebooks that never left her side, one in English, the other in French. She described Mia White, with whom she was having tea tomorrow, and her neighbor Adelka, who had invited her for drinks on Friday.

Her voice had perked up again. Toby was rejoiced to hear it. Then he brought up the Aunt Serena brooch story, which a delighted and chortling Jordan had narrated to him. Their daughter was already at work, crafting the perfect holiday for her loved ones. What a sweetheart their Jordan was. Toby sighed. He missed Andy; he didn’t see her enough.

“Andy’s coming over to spend the night next week,” said Clarissa. “We’ll call you, I promise.”

“And how’s your father?”

Clarissa said the latest news was good: Her old dad was doing fine. He was in high spirits. The brooch story was all thanks to him. He had been thrilled to hear about its real value and the prospect of their upcoming vacation.

“I’m glad to hear this. Send my love. And take care of yourself, Blue. Relax. Don’t overdo things. Remember, I’m here if you need me. Go for it.”

When she hung up, Clarissa told herself she was blessed to have such an ally in her life; a man who knew her intimately, closely, a man who had seen her give birth, a man who had been at her side when they had buried their stillborn son, a man who had always been faithful to her. At present, she was able to comprehend why he had left her. He had held out for twelve years. Jordan was growing into a bright and lively little girl, full of laughter. But Clarissa was still under the influence of a black, persistent fog, and Toby felt powerless faced with her suffering. Later, it was François who managed to put a stop to her undying despondency by suggesting hypnosis. This ended up bringing her closer to François, and further away from Toby, which was ironic, given her current situation.

Clarissa went into the kitchen. She made some tea with bottled water, avoiding the tap.

“Hello, Clarissa! Did you sleep well? Today, it will be cloudy and muggy. I’ve adapted the air conditioner accordingly. The shopping drone will be coming by at ten. Do you wish to modify your grocery list?”

Clarissa had decided to no longer answer Mrs. Dalloway. It was her way of expressing her dissatisfaction. She acted as if Mrs. Dalloway wasn’t there. She hadn’t undergone the medical examinations in the bathroom for the past week. A silent revolution. She wondered what was going to happen. She didn’t feel afraid; her curiosity took over.

While she sipped her tea, Clarissa read her mail on her device. She missed her friends. Some of them kept on sending messages, like Joyce, who wondered if Clarissa had gone on a trip. Patricia had bumped into François and had been shocked by his appearance. He had refused to say anything to her. What was going on? Clarissa had not replied. When she was ready, she’d do it.

“Clarissa, you haven’t answered. Is everything all right?”

Clarissa paid no attention to Mrs. Dalloway. She checked her agenda for the day. She was meeting a producer and screenwriter she had already worked with in the past for a new TV show. She then made reservations for a trip to London in order to spend some time with her father. She had a little surprise for him: a dainty porcelain hand she’d found in the flea market at Saint-Ouen for his collection. Why did her father love hands? She had no idea. He had always collected them. His passion had nothing to do with his profession; he had been an attorney. Ever since Clarissa had been a girl, she had seen his hand collection grow. It now took up most of his bedroom.

She put on her cordless headset and listened to Patti Smith through the sound system. How she loved that sensual, throaty voice. When Mrs. Dalloway interrupted “Because the Night” through her earphones to ask her again why she wasn’t responding, Clarissa had to curb her irritation. “They” knew she was all right; “they” could see every move she made. It was infuriating.

She turned off the song, stepped under the shower, did her exercises, got dressed. She was about to go out for her walk, when the doorbell rang. She wasn’t expecting anyone. And Mrs. Dalloway hadn’t announced a visitor. She wasn’t sure who it might be. Perhaps Jim Perrier? Maybe he had the results from the lab? But surely he would have warned her he was coming up. She recalled he had expressly told her not to divulge anything important within the residence.

Clarissa stayed still, standing in front of the door. She could hear no noise coming from outside. The bell chimed again. She felt a twinge of alarm. Who was out there? Slowly, she stepped toward the door, taking care to remain silent. On the screen near the wooden panel, Dr. Dewinter’s features suddenly loomed up, making her jump.

“Hello, Mrs. Katsef. I know you’re there and that you can see me.”

Clarissa said nothing, taking in the large flat face, the heavy jaw, the heavily made-up lids. There was something frightening about Dr. Dewinter today. Was it the way she stared into the camera? That flinty look in her eyes?

“I would like to speak to you, Mrs. Katsef. If you don’t mind.”

Clarissa kept still. The door between her and the doctor felt like a very flimsy protection. What if the doctor knew how to get in? Where could she hide?

Dr. Dewinter knocked.

“I’m waiting for you to answer, Mrs. Katsef.”

Her voice had gone nasal, with a disagreeable twang to it. On the screen, her face seemed flatter than ever, wide and moonlike.

Abruptly, as quickly as it had come, the fear drained away from Clarissa. Who the hell did these people think they were? Sticking their noses into her private life in that way. Spying on her all the time. It was intolerable. It was unacceptable. She rushed