That afternoon, they walked through the city hand in hand, the sense of freedom so strong at knowing how far they were from her other world. She stopped Ivan on the bridge in front of the scarred remains of Notre Dame and kissed him, pressing herself against him until he pulled away, warning her with his eyes of the effect she was having.

‘Where next?’ he asked, leaning closer. ‘Back to the hotel?’

‘I just want to walk a little longer first,’ she said, the euphoria of the moment too good to cut short.

Stopping to browse the shelves briefly at Shakespeare and Company, they continued along Rue Saint-Julien le Pauvre, along the Rue Saint-Jacques until they reached La Sorbonne. In the square behind the university, she dragged Ivan towards the café where she had first worked when she lived here.

‘Let’s have a drink,’ she said, and they took a seat in the sun and ordered a bottle of champagne, the two of them sitting in blissful silence, their fingers lightly interlaced, as the students milled on either side to and from their lectures.

She had her eyes closed, her face tipped back towards the sun, when she heard a voice she recognised and sat up sharply, causing a sharp pain in her neck.

‘Gabriela? It is you!’

His face was older but she knew it at once, the same self-assured smile spreading across his face.

‘Pierre?’

‘Oui,’ he shrugged and she stood, hastily breaking contact with Ivan’s hand.

‘Jesus, how long has it … Wow. But what are you …?’

He laughed. ‘What am I doing here? I work here.’ He pointed towards the university.

‘You’re not serious.’

‘I am serious. You can call me Professor Bernard.’ He shrugged, making a whistling sound as he exhaled through his teeth.

Ivan coughed discreetly beside her and she turned quickly towards him. ‘I’m so sorry. Ivan, this is Pierre. He’s an old friend …’

She felt her cheeks flush as Pierre reached his hand out to Ivan.

‘Good to meet you.’

‘Likewise,’ Ivan nodded.

‘But you, what are you doing here? You have some time away from the children …?’

‘We don’t have children,’ Gabriela replied too quickly, her head struggling to take in what was happening, to connect the dots.

Pierre looked surprised. ‘Oh, sorry, I’m confused. I thought Inès said she had seen pictures of you on Facebook, she thought you had …’

‘Inès?’ For a moment Gabriela struggled to place her and then she remembered Pierre’s sister; she had put Saoirse up the week she came to stay while Gabriela was studying in Paris. They must have stayed in touch and become friends on social media – Gabriela always hated how Saoirse had put up photographs of them all without asking her permission, though Tom always convinced her it was harmless.