‘Good afternoon,’ he said as she sat down opposite him.

‘Hello.’

‘Have you eaten?’ he asked and she shook her head.

‘OK,’ he said, standing. ‘Let’s go …’

Le Beaujolais was tucked behind Charing Cross Road, the incongruous Parisian font and burgundy signage at odds with the traditional Georgian façade of the London terrace of which it was a part.

‘You know this place?’ he asked as the taxi pulled up outside.

She shook her head, smiling, as he led her towards the door on the right, away from the main bar and down the stairs into a starkly lit dining room where a series of hatches opened onto the kitchen at the back. The walls on either side of the room were lined with wine racks, mismatched frames and endless shelves of knick-knacks, from old bottles to broken lampshades.

‘You said you studied in France, so I thought you might enjoy it … They do the best fish soup.’

‘So, you live in North London?’ he asked later, taking a sip of red wine, and she held his eye.

‘It’s where I grew up.’

‘You have a flat?’

‘I rent a room. I travel so much for work it doesn’t make sense to have a big place to myself.’ She was a natural liar.

‘So do you ever come to Richmond?’ Ivan asked and she shook her head.

‘I don’t know it at all. I mean, I think I visited the park as a child, with my parents.’

‘They also live in North London?’

She shook her head. ‘They’re both dead.’

He nodded. ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

‘It’s OK, we weren’t close. Well, my mum and I …’

‘That’s sad.’

She shrugged. ‘It is what it is. She wasn’t a very good mother.’ The words ran off her tongue. ‘Anyway, I remember it was beautiful.’

‘It is,’ he said. ‘We should go there sometime.’

She flushed, looking down at her plate.

‘What?’ she asked a while later, looking up and finding him watching her thoughtfully, and he said, ‘You just remind me of someone, that’s all.’

‘Who?’

‘Just someone I knew a long time ago.’ Changing the subject, he asked, ‘How’s your soup?’

‘Delicious. Best I’ve had since Paris, but I haven’t been there for so long I’d forgotten how good it was.’

He smiled, his eyes softening. ‘We should go.’

‘Where?’

‘Paris.’

She laughed, ‘I thought we were going to Richmond Park? I can’t keep up.’

‘All in good time,’ he said, and she laughed.

He looked at her seriously. ‘Why not?’

Feeling the bread harden in her mouth as she chewed, she looked away, replying under her breath. ‘Yes. Why not?’

Chapter 32

Gabriela