After all, it wasn’t too late, not yet. She could have called Tom back then and there and told him she’d had a change of heart. She could have taken the next train down to Devon, which wasn’t that far from here, when she came to think of it. The sudden realisation of her proximity to Tom and the children was instantly terrifying and instinctively she glanced over her shoulder as she answered the phone, her tone lightly enquiring, as if the call could be anyone.

‘Hello?’ Her hand held the phone tightly against her ear, containing the sound of his voice.

‘Are you here?’

Did she pause before answering?

‘Yes.’

‘Come outside, I’m waiting in a car.’

Pressing her overnight bag tightly against her side, she held it both like a shield and an arsenal of weaponry as she moved out through the exit and into the city.

It was immediately obvious even before the headlights blinked surreptitiously: the shine of the buffed bodywork incongruous against the grubby backdrop of buildings immediately opposite the taxi rank. Gabriela could feel eyes on her as the door opened and she ducked inside the car with its impossibly clean seats, devoid of stray crisps and discarded DVDs.

The brief feeling of being watched brought back a sudden memory of Emsworth, of the tail he had put on her. How had she forgotten? The likelihood was that he still had someone watching her now, and yet even that didn’t make her think twice before stepping into the car. It was as if in Ivan’s presence she felt protected against the world, cushioned against reality. Impenetrable even with her head floating in the firing line.

For a moment he didn’t speak, he didn’t move forward to greet her in any way. He simply looked, as if memorising everything about her.

‘Fancy seeing you here,’ she said, and he smiled, his eyes shining.

‘It’s good to see you.’ There was a sincerity in his voice that moved her.

Leaning forward gently, he kissed her on both cheeks and the smell of him was intoxicatingly unfamiliar.

‘You said low-key,’ he said as the car pulled off. ‘And I took you at your word, so I hope you meant it …’

‘Good,’ she said, with a flush of relief, remembering her insistence that they avoid one of the fashionable spa hotels in the area, just in case of bumping into anyone she knew.

‘Well, it shouldn’t take too long,’ he said as the driver let off the handbrake, the sudden movement of the car causing her to shunt forward, and Ivan held out his hand to catch her.

He smiled. ‘You should probably put on your belt.’

The village was the sort of chocolate-box picture-postcard scene she had spent so many years resenting after her mother had left, abandoning them for a similarly provincial existence.