Monsieur Candela has a flair for understanding things without anyone needing to explain. Our conversation was brief, in his half-closed eyes I saw all the wisdom of the world. I also saw the swift hand that wise men raise to ward off evil.

Stirring his coffee, he said, ‘Listen to me, Rachel, I know about these things, in my family, we’ve seen it all, hardship, war, deportation, more war, exile, contempt, loneliness, you name it, so listen up: you have to draw a line under this whole thing right now or it’ll destroy you. First of all, you’re grieving for your parents and feeling sorry for yourself isn’t going to bring them back. You need to do what any good son would do – visit their graves once a year and pray for the repose of their souls. Thank them for the gift of life they’ve given you and let them know that you are making the most of that gift. As for the rest of it – the Holocaust and all the other atrocities in this world – pray to God they never happen again. That’s all you can do. Read if you have to, campaign if you have to, make what little difference you can. Anything more is the Devil’s work, anything more means letting your hatred and your thirst for revenge get the better of you. If you let evil in, it will breed only evil, and without realising it, you’ll become a monster. Okay, now, let’s get back to the office. Work is therapy.’

Another favourite Americanism. You wipe the slate clean, spit on your hand, get back behind the wheel. His advice seemed to be to deal with evil by forgetting, which is the worst evil. I was disappointed, but not very. I had expected Monsieur Candela to enlighten me and he had. But was light enough?

Later that afternoon, he phoned and told me that if I needed him he was there for me, then abruptly hung up like a real boss who’s said what he has to say. I wanted to say thank you, but he caught me unawares. Besides, when it comes to expressing my feelings, I take the Buddhist approach: the less you say, the better.