Many times she and Lisette had talked of falling in love, like all young girls longed to do, and how they would know when it happened. That was the topic of conversation one late November day in 1933. ‘I mean, it must be a very odd thing,’ Lisette said, lying full stretch on her bed. ‘It’s what most of the songs are about, and poems and many stories, and yet…how does a person know?’ Bridgette shrugged, thinking of her own situation, for Xavier surely saw her just as his sister’s friend. ‘And what if you are madly in love with someone and he doesn’t even know that you exist?’ she asked. ‘Ah, yes,’ said Lisette. ‘Unrequited love. Wouldn’t that be the most dreadful thing? I hope that doesn’t happen to either of us.’ The phrase ‘unrequited love’ ran round and round in Bridgette’s head all morning and as she sat down opposite Xavier for lunch that day her heart was thumping so hard against her ribs, she felt sure that everyone could hear it. She suddenly felt very miserable and the meal tasted like sawdust in her mouth.
