“Well, Europe and the Arabs should have left us alone in the nineteenth century… They had us for breakfast, so now in revenge we observe the Sabbath. To annoy Europe and the Arabs, if you like. From midday on Friday, if that’s the way we want it.”

I couldn’t really make head nor tail of what he was talking about. Watching the way he was staring at his chessboard, I wondered if he was feeling quite all right. His lips moved now and then, so I knew he was playing an imaginary game. I took a deep breath.

“Haisam,” I said, “I’ve got problems.”

He didn’t look up.

“I know.”

“I know you know. You never say anything, but you know everything before anyone else. Like the crocodiles in the Nile.”

“Always a few moves ahead, like in chess. So, she’s blind then?”

He nodded to himself. He was really becoming enormous. My dear Egyptian gradually seemed to be turning into a mythological being.

“Nobody must know it, or we’re done for. But the thing is, with this afternoon’s road safety drill it’s not looking good.”

Haisam moved one of his pieces and laid down his imaginary opponent’s king. He sighed and took a piece of Turkish delight.

“And yet,” he said, “from what I saw this morning you seem to have grasped the basic principles of the Nimzo-Indian Defence. But now you’re stuck. Look…”

He pointed at the chessboard as though the solution could be found there.

“So what now?” I was beginning to panic.

“So Nimzovich wasn’t just defending. He was also attacking, by controlling the centre from a distance and blockading his opponent. That’s all there is to it. Nothing could be clearer.”

Haisam’s father appeared at that moment and turned on a tiny radio. The news wasn’t exactly cheerful: bombs all over the place, in cafés and cinemas. And schools. The whole world was calling for vengeance, even those who’d planted the bombs. It was kicking off just about everywhere and I felt a bit of a schmuck with my worries. Controlling the centre … blockading… I stood up.

“Going already?” asked the noble and honourable Egyptian. “Have you got it?”

“I think so.”

He raised his great paw in farewell.

“You’re a prince, my man,” he said solemnly.

Well, that brought tears to my eyes. But then I’d been feeling ultra sensitive for some time. I was like a sponge, you only had to press lightly for tears to appear.

There wasn’t much time left. I had to find Marcel urgently. Only he could tell me how to get in touch with Etienne, who’d been suspended again. I had to talk to him. I criss-crossed the playground, zigzagging back and forth in all directions, and finally located him playing in goal in a football match.

“I’ve got to speak to Etienne!”