When I arrived at school the next day, the playground looked completely different. The community police were there, some setting out red and white cones to create lanes, others installing and testing mini traffic lights. At the back, a guy was unloading go-karts and bikes from a lorry marked ROAD SAFETY EDUCATION, and lining them up. I looked for Marie in the crowd of kids, but I couldn’t see her. And of course I realized straight away the danger she was in. She was going to get lost in the complicated labyrinth the police were laying out in the playground: Road Safety would be her undoing. But I’d seen the danger and could do something about it, so there was a chance it could be averted. Hope flickered at the heart of my anguish. Thank you, Haisam, I thought. Thank you for the Nimzo thingy! Then the bell rang and we had to get in line.

The first lesson was history. Luckily, I was sitting near the window. A breath of spring air stroked my face. While the others were delving into the depths of the past, I could keep an eye on the playground. The minutes ticked by and still there was no sign of Marie. I didn’t know whether to be worried or relieved. I pictured her barrelling into the middle of the go-karts, bikes and road signs as if she was entering a hostile little town. She wouldn’t have a clue where she was. She would be utterly humiliated – disgraced even – and it would be the end of all our hopes.

I completely lost track of what was going on in the lesson. I think it was about some period when kings and princes spent half their time trying to assassinate each other, the other half trying to escape, and a further half trying to have sons or win wars. A total fiasco in fact, which didn’t make me feel very hopeful for the future of the human race. But these were my own views and wouldn’t have interested the teacher: he was a very serious man who wore a hearing aid, which made him look as though he was in constant communication with the ancient kings of France. I called him Beethoven, on account of the ear trouble.

Then I heard the school gate squeak. I was sure it was Marie, arriving late again. It must be taking her longer to get to school, counting all her steps in the way she’d explained to me. Maybe she even got lost sometimes, without me there to be Ariadne’s thread. I imagined her alone in the empty streets, trying to find her way by groping around everywhere. Thinking about that made my heart shrivel like a withered apple, all wrinkled and empty.