‘Seems to me it’s your only option,’ Frank said bluntly. ‘But if it makes you feel better, we’ll call it a loan. I just want to know you’ll be safe.’

Irena chewed on her lip and stared at the floor. Then, giving a tiny nod, she said, ‘OK, I will accept loan. But I will repay as soon as I have find job.’

‘No rush,’ Frank said, already praying that his kids never found out about this, because they would think he’d lost his mind.

Later that evening, when they had finished eating, Frank and Irena moved into the living room, where she took a seat on the sofa with a glass of wine in her hand, while he sat in his chair, a glass of whisky in his.

‘Tell me about your family,’ she said, making herself comfortable.

Smiling, because she looked so relaxed, Frank said, ‘Where do you want me to start?’

‘I would like to hear about your wife,’ she said. ‘Where did you meet her?’

‘At a disco,’ said Frank. ‘We were both there with our mates, and her friend came over and told me she wanted to dance with me.’

‘This is very brave for girl.’

‘She didn’t actually know anything about it until I walked over to her,’ Frank said, chuckling at the memory. ‘And she wasn’t too happy when I told her what her friend had done, but she was too polite to refuse, so we had a few dances.’

‘Then what happen?’

‘She had to be home by ten, so I walked her to the bus stop.’

‘And you kiss her?’

‘Not that night, no. But I remember telling my mate that I was going to marry her. And two years later, I did. That was her on our wedding day.’ Frank indicated the photograph on the mantelpiece.

Irena looked up at it, and smiled.

‘She was very beautiful.’

‘Yes, she was,’ Frank agreed. ‘And our daughter, Jo, looks a lot like her.’

‘And your son, he look like you?’

‘Yep.’ Frank nodded. ‘Unfortunately for him.’

‘No, you are handsome man, Frankie,’ Irena chided. ‘Like film star I saw in old film.’

‘Rubbish,’ Frank scoffed.

‘Is true,’ Irena insisted.

Embarrassed, Frank threw her question back to her: ‘So who do you take after? Mother or father?’

‘Karel look like our mother, with same dark hair and eyes,’ Irena told him. ‘But I resemble fa—’

She abruptly stopped speaking when a bright light arced over the closed curtains, and she looked at Frank when she heard a car pulling onto the drive.

‘Is come here?’

‘It’s probably Yvonne,’ Frank said, putting his glass down on the table and standing up. ‘Stay here while I get rid of her.’

It wasn’t Yvonne, it was Evan, in a battered old Land Rover Frank had never seen before.