Them four days went fast, too fast.

I fell in love with Paris and I fell in love all over again with Joey. I was proud to be escorted by my brother, the dashing young Englishman who, in perfect French, had the knack of charming everyone we met, from the most dismal droop-tached waiter to a goat-faced woman at the opera who was introduced to us as the Duchesse de Somewhere or other. I could tell she liked Joey, but when her eyes sidled over me her mouth puckered up like a cats arse and the bristles growing through the powder on her chin fetched the lamplight.

Lucca joined us for part of the time. Him and Joey was wary at first, civil enough to each other, but oddly formal too. When a touring act came back to Lady Gingers halls after a country ramble, Id often note that the hands and the girls treated them with a certain caution. They acted like they were strangers when only six months before theyd all been drinking together down The Lamb six nights out of seven. It was like the travellers had to prove themselves again, demonstrate they hadnt changed or got beyond us.

I reckoned I could feel something of that between Joey and Lucca, so on the afternoon of the second day, when we was all supposed to go to some public garden for a stroll about, I said I had a headache. Lucca was all for cancelling, but I insisted he should go with Joey, just for an hour at least, while I rested.

In the end they were out until dark. I didnt ask what they did, where they went or what they talked about, but after that they were comfortable together and I was glad to see it. That evening Lucca left me and Joey alone. He took himself off somewhere I saw Joey slip him a card while we ate in my room.

I think that was my favourite time of all. Just me and Joey sitting at a round table set up by the window. We kept the curtains open so we could look down onto the street. There was a gas lamp fixed to the wall outside lighting up the entrance to the hotel. It was directly below us so we didnt bother with any other light in the room, just a fire.

We had chicken. I remember that because I had to ask Joey what it was. I couldnt recognise the meat under all the sauce. To my way of thinking theres something criminal in smothering good meat, but everything in Paris seemed to come in disguise. Back home, people went wild for the French style, but as far as I could make out it was mainly a complication of the natural.

Anyway, the waiter brought our meal up to the room under a little silver dome. He placed the covered platter at the centre of the table and then he fussed about, tweaking the tablecloth and flapping out our napkins until he was satisfied that we were good enough for what we were about to receive.

Then, with a flourish that wouldnt have disgraced Swami Jonah when he was doing the disappearing dove (I say dove, but the mangy thing was really a pigeon caked in chalk dust), he swept the dome away to reveal a pool of lumpy yellow gravy.

'Voil!

He stood, expectant like, by the side of the table, the cover held high in his white-gloved hand. I wasnt entirely sure what to do give him a round of applause or maybe the bird? He was so solemn and impressed with himself that I got the urge to laugh. Once it came on me, I couldnt stop it. I tried to pretend I was coughing into my napkin, but I caught Joeys eye and that was the finish of us.

The steaming liquid in the dish jiggled about as the table rocked under my elbows. Joey just about managed to draw himself together. He said something to the waiter and pressed a coin into his hand. Then we watched in a most painful silence as the man stalked back to the door, giving every impression, if youll pardon another of Nanny Pecks observations, that he had a ripe Kerry Pippin stuffed up his fundamental.

Once he was gone, I repeated this to Joey, who remarked in his beautiful toff English that with an arse that tight it was more likely a pineapple. The two of us began to laugh so loud that Im sure the carriage men lined up on the street outside three storeys down could hear us.

That was a thing about Joey he wasnt like Lucca who wrinkled his nose whenever I used an expression unfit for a lady. No, my brother had always had a way of talking low, but making the words sound like something Queen Victoria herself might let slip. I remembered then how he held court with his fancy friends at The Lamb, and at that moment I realised how blind Id been.

That second evening was when we really began to act natural together again like the past two years hadnt happened. We were just a couple of kids, larking about and teasing each other. After our meal which, to be fair, tasted better than it looked we sat there in a comfortable glow and made up stories about the men and women passing in and out of the hotel. It was a game we played when we were small.

The front room of our old lodgings in Church Row looked out over the street. If you closed the shutters up behind you and squeezed into the narrow space before the window you could see down to the corner and into the houses opposite. When Ma was taking a bad turn and Nanny Peck was sitting with her in the back room, me and Joey used to play the story game, sitting sideways on the ledge facing each other with our knees and toes touching.

Now we watched the comings and goings outside Le Meurice; elegant city couples, provincial businessmen fluffed out like bantam cocks, silent spouses walking a lifetime apart, lovers with less than a Rizla between them, and the kept women. Joey said you could always smoke them in Paris their dress was much finer and better set than anything a husband would pay for. He reckoned he could tell visitors from England too. 'Something about the cut, he said, and I noticed the way he took in my good blue frock.

It was raining hard and every time a carriage drew up a fat little porter in a long red coat bobbed down the hotel steps to shield the arrivals with an umbrella the size of Nanny Pecks Sunday crinoline. Caught in the lamplight, the raindrops looked like a scattering of crystals as they rolled off the rigid black shell and shattered on the steps.

I knew it was a chance to talk proper, but it felt so good to slip back into the old ways that I didnt want to spoil the magic of it. And I do think that my brother worked a kind of spell over me the sort that blinds your eyes and binds your tongue. I was the adoring little sister again, hanging off his every word, laughing at his stories and lapping up his attention like an abandoned kitten that couldnt believe its luck to be back in a warm kitchen.

If you was to ask me now exactly what it was we talked about for that second evening at Le Meurice, theres barely a full sentence I can recall excepting one thing that struck me as odd. We watched a family mother, father and four little girls all done up like porcelain dolls tumble out of a coach and scurry up the steps into the dry. Joey asked if Id ever thought about having children of my own. I laughed and said I needed to find myself a man before I could make him an uncle.

When I cast back, I see them days in Paris through a haze of red and gold; velvet-padded restaurant chairs, gilded mirrors, floating down the river on a pleasure barge done out with crimson banquettes, rose-flecked light alive with gleaming sparks of dust falling through the kaleidoscope windows of a darkened church, a night at the opera that felt like sitting in an open jewel box, the scent of the crowd; all leather, lavender, lemon and a hundred other fine foreign things rolling off them in waves of prosperity.

Oh yes, I soon came to see that plenty of the types my brother mixed with were a good deal cleaner and fancier than the ones hed left behind in Limehouse. Me and Lucca included.

There was one place, though, that put me in mind of The Gaudy. We took a cab and went on there after the opera on the third night. It was a dance and drink hall, hot with the smell of bodies, tobacco and mecks. I could feel the throb of the music and the stamp of the dancers as we pushed through the crowd. Joey went first holding my hand and Lucca followed behind.

The young men, and most particularly the girls there, were a lot wilder than the ones back home. The dancing had a whirling physical violence to it that threatened, but never quite descended into, a riot. It was infectious. The pulse of it spread from my feet up my legs and into my body. I wanted to be out on that dance floor, spinning and stamping and shrieking with the rest of them.

I tugged Joeys hand. He turned, grinned and mouthed some words I couldnt make out. I tapped my ear and shook my head. He nodded and pointed at a row of booths set along a wall to the left. I noted the way my brother was just as comfortable among that set as in the grand dining rooms of the city. I followed as he moved from table to table, a nod here, a wink there, a smile, some larky patter in the lingo, a generous tip to the red-haired girl with a tilted nose and a gap-toothed grin who brought a jug of some gut-rot green stuff to our booth. Half an hour in and Lucca was over by the stage talking to a knot of gents gathered by the music pit. From their looks I took them for four brothers they all had white blond hair, cat-slant eyes and cheekbones you could slice a ham on.

When Joey took me back to the hotel later that evening, Lucca didnt come with us, but early next morning he was back at my door with a guilty smile and a ribbon-covered box of sweet pastries so beautiful I almost didnt want to spoil them by biting into them.

Little works of art they were, no wonder he bought them.

'The dress suits you. I think you are made for the Parisian style. Lucca stepped back and nodded. 'It is perfect. Turn to the left. The grey watered satin skirt whispered as it moved with me. The dress was cut narrow and low. Complicated pleats and folds of material gave the bodice the look of a close-petalled flower about to open and the skirt was caught up at the back in a parted bell-like shape with a fantail of silver lace trailing out behind.

I stared at myself in the mirror and I hardly recognised the girl looking back. I say girl, but with my hair plaited and looped up top, my waist tightened to a pint glass and other parts of me looking more prominent than felt proper, it was a woman I saw there for the first time ever. I didnt know how I felt about that.

'Does it look . . . decent, Lucca? I dont want to be taken for a bangtail or whatever they call them over here. I glanced at the handwritten note on the table.

'You look like a lady. And the maid has done an excellent job with your hair. He smiled and slipped into his jacket, pulling the sleeves so that the buttons at the cuffs lined up. 'She said it was unusual for a woman to travel without a servant, but was happy to assist when I explained that you were travelling on urgent family business and had to leave London without making arrangements. Also, the coins helped she didnt ask another question when I counted them out in front her.

He raised a brow. 'I think they find us to be a most interesting couple. At least our rooms are on separate floors, otherwise we would be a scandal.

Lucca was done up fine too. Matter of fact, Id never seen him look so smart. I could tell he was revelling in it there was a streak of vanity in Lucca Fratelli that hadnt been burned away.

Joey sent the evening clothes to our rooms. Monogrammed boxes padded out with scented tissue had arrived that morning. In both cases the fit was almost perfect, although Id had to ask the hotel seamstress to adjust the filmy, chiffon-covered straps of the bodice so they didnt gape.

I was going to do it myself. Not having been away before Id packed for all eventuals, I even had my sewing kit with me. Lucca pulled a face when he saw my things laid out on the brocade cover of the hotel bed and he laughed out loud when I showed him all the clothes hung up by a chamber maid in a mahogany wardrobe half the size of my old room at Mother Maxwells. I pointed out that as Id bought a trunk for the trip it seemed a shame not to use it.

I told him about the straps on the evening dress and what I needed to do to make them sit straight, but he said that when you are staying in an establishment as grand as Le Meurice, there are people to take care of that sort of thing. It made me wonder again about his way of living in the days before the fire took his looks, but I didnt say anything. That was the past, and I didnt want it to cast a shadow now Id found Joey again.

'How do I walk in this rig without taking a tumble? I moved away from the mirror and felt the waterfall of lace at the back of the dress twist with me. It was heavy and made of many layers, some of them sewn with tiny glittering beads. I couldnt work out how to keep it from winding round my ankles.

Lucca knelt beside me. 'There is a loop here in the underskirt. May I?

He burrowed around at my feet. 'Here take this in your left hand, hook it around your ring finger. When you walk along a hallway let it drop so that the dress flows behind you. If you go upstairs or if you dance- I snorted. 'Weve been invited to dinner, not a bleedin ball, Lucca.

He glanced up at me. 'Perhaps not tonight, but you will wear this dress again, Kitty, trust me, I know you will. You look like a Botticelli.

He must have dialled the look on my face because he sighed and followed up on that immediately. 'Sandro Botticelli a painter of the Renaissance, famous for his beautiful women angels, goddesses. Thats how you look in this dress. Joseph chose well.

It was our last evening in Paris. Wed spoken about meeting in the early afternoon and later going out to dine, the three of us, so I was surprised when I read the note that arrived with the clothes. Id got the distinctive impression mostly by omission that Joey wanted to keep us away from rue des Carmelites and his life there, but the invitation was clear.

Kitty, Forgive the formality and brevity of this note. I am afraid I cannot join you early today as planned. There is something I must attend to. To make amends, I write to invite you to dine at my house tonight. We gather at nine.

I have taken the liberty of selecting a gown for you. You will find it in the box labelled 'Maison Cordelle. I hope you like it, little sister, I chose it most carefully; firstly as a gift and secondly because I want you to shine for my friends. I will send a carriage. I trust Lucca will also join us.

It is time for honesty.

J.

Id read that note a hundred times. We gather at nine. I wondered what that meant, exactly. And there was the other line too, I want you to shine for my friends. I looked at my blue frock folded neatly at the top of the open trunk. I would have worn it this evening if Joey hadnt sent the dress I was wearing now.

Lucca fussed around my ankles again, smoothing out the train so that it pooled in a shimmering semi-circle behind me. He cleared his throat. 'You understand about tonight, what you will see? He didnt look up. Instead he busied himself with his cuffs, pulling them down so that just the right amount of white showed at the wrist.

Then he stood, brushed lint from his knees and stared at himself in the long dressing mirror, adjusting the starched collar of his shirt so that it rose higher on his scarred neck. He swept his dark hair forward and nodded at the half-handsome young man reflected back at him.

After a moment he caught my eye in the glass. 'You do know what I mean, Fannella?

I nodded. 'It is time for honesty? Thats what his note said.

'But are you ready for it?

Tell truth, I did wonder about that when the images came I chased them out of my head. I pulled myself up straight and shifted my shoulders to bring the gauzy straps higher.

'Ive seen a lot in the halls, Lucca and on the streets. Im not a country parsons chavy, am I? I know right enough what youre on about.

'To know is one thing, but . . . He stared hard at me and I couldnt read his expression, not exactly. It might have been concern, but it could just as easily have been a challenge.

The little gilt clock on the mantle struck three notes, it was quarter to nine already.

I tried to smile. 'Ill deal with it.

Chapter Six.

The conversation and laughter died the moment the Monseigneur ushered us into the vaulted candlelit dining room. At the far end of the table someone rose to greet us, but I didnt, immediately, realise who it was.

I knew what I was expecting to see. I knew what that house was, and I knew what my brother was, even though I hadnt put it into words, but the reality of it, perhaps I should say the unreality of it, was almost impossible to take in.

The air was heavy with scent and wine. Little points of light sparked off the crystal ware set along the table. They flickered on the walls giving the oddest impression that everything was moving, like we were on water.

A score of blurred faces turned to me and a trickle of sweat ran down my back under the stiff grey satin as Joey walked towards me. His face was artfully and perfectly painted just enough to emphasise the delicate curve of his lips, the tilt of his heavily lashed eyes and the slant of his cheekbones.

Joseph Peck was a beautiful woman.

Just as Lucca had told me that night when it all came tumbling out, 'He could pass. You might take him for a girl for a woman. I tightened my hold on the feather fan that had arrived with the dress.

Then from nowhere the old cows voice went off. 'I will return your brother to you . . . in due course. But whether you will accept him, now, that is another matter. You will find him much altered. I was back in that churchyard by Mas grave staring at Lady Gingers white-painted face her lips cracking into a sticky black smile.

She knew.

She knew how Id feel at this moment and she enjoyed the power of knowing it. I heard a snap and something clattered to the floor. Id gripped the carved ivory handle of the fan so hard Id cracked it in two.

I wasnt aware of anyone in the room, now, just Joey in his elegant sea-green gown. A thick golden rope of hair was coiled and set high on his head, soft ringlets framed his pointed face, green tear-cut gems trembled from his ears and a treble row of glittering jewels wound about the pale skin of his throat. He was like some mythical creature, a mermaid or a siren something alien, not my brother.

'You are most welcome. He said the words softly and smiled. As he came close I could see a vein moving in his neck and a muscle twitching at the corner of his eye. He held his hands out to me they were trembling. To cover, he clasped them firmly together and repeated my name, but when he spoke his blue eyes slid down away from mine.

I felt my belly boil with anger and something sharp stabbed at my temples. I felt the skin on my neck and face flush up.

You mare, I thought. You monstrous, unnatural, wicked creature, Kitty Peck.

I hated myself.

Of a sudden I realised how difficult this was for him, not me. I was so wrapped up in my own concerns I couldnt see what was happening. This wasnt about me, at all.

'Kitty? The whisper sounded like a plea.

For a second I couldnt answer. I looked down at Joeys tight locked hands and I truly grasped how much this moment meant. He was trusting me with his secret, with his soul. He was honouring me with the truth. In front of his friends, Joseph Peck was making himself utterly vulnerable because I was his sister and because he loved me.

God knows what he thought I might do or how I might react. I thought then, and still think now, that it was the bravest thing Ive ever seen anyone do. At that moment my heart nearly burst with pride and love for my brittle, brilliant, beautiful brother.

I didnt say anything, I couldnt, there was something balling in my throat. The tip of my nose prickled and my eyes glassed up. I reached to take Joeys clenched hands in mine and raised them to my mouth. I kissed them gently and then I looked direct at him. There were tears slipping down his cheeks too. They left a silvery train in the fine pearly powder that made his face gleam in the candlelight. I shook my head and reached across to wipe them away.

'No need for these, eh? I smiled and suddenly caught him up in a fierce hug, burying my face in the scented lace of his neckline.

'You are beautiful, Joseph, I whispered. 'You always have been and you always will be.

I felt a huge shudder go through my brothers body. He kissed my right cheek and then my left and then took a step back and held me away from him a little way.

'Thank you. He couldnt quite say the words aloud, so he mouthed them and blinked hard as more tears threatened to ruin his makeup. Then he pulled me tight against him and murmured into my ear.

'Josette, thats what my friends call me here.

I nodded. 'I already know that. Its a pretty name.

As we stood there locked together I was dimly aware of a great sound crashing around us. It wasnt the end of the world or anything biblically judgemental, it was the sound of whoops and cheers and applause.

I liked Joeys rather, Josettes friends.

Upwards of twenty of them were gathered round the table that night, mostly French, but I was introduced to a couple of English lads who were nearly as pretty as my brother, a striking Spaniard who sang for us with such sweet sadness that she (he) would have been an asset to any of my theatrical establishments (the punters always liked a bit of misery, specially if it was foreign and came with a good pair of ankles), and a little party from the East.

Two of them were dressed as girls and two of them were dressed as men, but according to Joey, they were all male and all Russian, and they were nearly all dancers from The Moika.

It was the second winter The Ballet Moika had come to Paris. The performers the male and properly female ones were, according to Joey, the toast of the city. Half the Imperial court had followed them and the locals had gone wild for 'le style russe, wrapping their heads in jewelled turbans and paying over the odds for cobble-dusting furs. Apparently there was a particular fashion for emeralds among the noble Russian ladies and now the women of Paris were draping themselves with rivers of stones to keep up with them.

Joey reckoned the hock shops over on rue des Rosiers had never done such trade seeing as every woman of taste was prepared to pawn her grandmothers jewels and quite possible the old girl along with them in order to wrap a string of emeralds round her neck.

'They are striking, dont you think? Joey reached for his glass.

I laughed. 'Emeralds? Ive never given it much thought. You dont see many in Limehouse, thats for certain. Do you remember Mas pearls? She used to let me wear them in Church Row, but they went missing- I stopped myself. Mas pearls had gone missing around the same time as Joey. I likely knew what had happened to them now, but if my brother picked anything up from that it didnt show.

'I didnt mean emeralds, Kitty, I meant my guests the Russians. They have a certain look to them, dont you think?

As if he sensed us watching, one of the dancers dressed in mens gear breeches and a loose white shirt open at the neck turned to look back down the table towards us. Joey raised his glass.