Yet there was something about Irena, the way her eyes followed Gabriela at dinner, that she couldn’t stop remembering. Perhaps she was just interested, she told herself. She and Ivan were clearly close, and why wouldn’t she be intrigued to meet the mother of his child? Gabriela shivered as she thought of his dead wife, trying to blot out the photo she had seen of Masha, her eyes too evocative of Layla.

‘You were right, Irena is very impressive. What exactly does she do? I never got to ask.’

Ivan looked out of the window as the car began to slow. ‘I’m never quite sure. Look, we’re nearly here.’

The house stood at the edge of the Presnensky District, an area better known for the zoo and the State Museum of Oriental Art. The building itself was akin to the sort of upscale boarding school you might see in a Hollywood interpretation of aristocratic English life.

‘We don’t call it an orphanage, it’s a home for children,’ he said as they moved through the hallway, lined with floor-to-ceiling chests filled with books.

‘Ivan, this is extraordinary,’ she said.

‘We have around thirty children living here, full-time,’ he said as a group moved through one of the doorways, accompanied by a woman who seemed to recognise Ivan.

‘Some of them require specialist support and so we have teachers and therapists who work with them on site.’

‘I can’t believe you haven’t told me about this before,’ she said as they reached the upper floor, stopping briefly to peer into one of the bedrooms where there were four neatly made beds. The walls were hung with framed paintings of flowers.

‘You never asked,’ he said, and she felt a pang of relief followed by a niggle of guilt. Why had she not asked him more about his work? Was it because she was scared of what he would say?

‘Maybe we’ll spend more time here. There are other places I’d like to show you, but they can wait until next time. There are still so many things we have to learn about each other,’ he added.

She smiled, trying to suppress a feeling of unease, then she took Ivan’s hand, lifting the other to the sling in which Layla was pinned against her chest.

‘There’s no reason why we shouldn’t spend more time here, right?’ he said, as if in passing, strapping Layla back into the car seat twenty minutes later.

Gabriela paused, trying to keep her voice level. ‘I mean maybe, down the line. But don’t forget I’m going back to work in a few weeks.’

She couldn’t understand why he was forcing the issue.

He didn’t answer until they were both seated and the car was rolling back down the driveway, the perfectly tended grass glistening on either side, and through the gates.