They were packed into a new minivan, but he insisted on trying to drive it like a Ferrari, so Kate attempted to distract him by asking where he was from. ‘Kakheti,’ he said. ‘Georgia best wine-growing region.’ It turned out he had been brought up and schooled in the dying days of the old Soviet Union and, like many men and women of his generation, he had mixed feelings about their former Russian overlords. On one level, he was irritated by their continued interference in Georgian affairs, but on another he recognized the value of Russian tourists and was fighting a losing battle to persuade his children to learn the language. ‘French, German, Spanish, English, of course. They would rather learn anything but Russian.’

After that, he couldn’t be stopped. He talked about his love of rugby, but mostly seemed to want to curse his government – all governments, in fact – as well as Turks and Iranians. As they roared towards the centre of town, he had to swerve to avoid a couple crossing the road. The woman was wearing the niqab, which elicited another muttered insult. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I just don’t like them.’

They were speeding past Tbilisi old town and Kate looked out at the brightly painted houses with their striking exterior balconies, many of which appeared to hang in mid-air. This gave Ian a chance to play the role he’d adopted as Suzy’s caring and thoughtful tour guide, holding her hand through ‘her first major foreign assignment’, as he put it, though it wasn’t and she didn’t need her hand held. Berlin had proved that. ‘They really are quite something,’ he said, pointing out a particularly spectacular example of the local architecture. ‘I had a house just up here with the most incredible courtyard.’

As a transparent and not especially subtle attempt to make Julie jealous, this flirtation was surely doomed to failure – ‘He’s a moron,’ she’d whispered to Kate on the flight from Paris. ‘I can’t imagine what I saw in him’ – but Suzy appeared to be lapping it up.

‘Tbilisi was destroyed by the Persians in 1795,’ Ian told her, ‘so it turned to Imperial Russia for protection. They reneged on everything they’d agreed, but made it a place to be reckoned with, a true crossroads between East and West. Most of the old houses you see are essentially a mixture of cultures and styles.’ He was warming to this theme. ‘You get these amazing exterior staircases that literally cascade down the hill, following the natural contours of the slope.’

‘Tbilisi very old, very beautiful,’ the driver chimed in, not to be displaced as tour guide. They were racing away from Freedom Square down Rustaveli Avenue. ‘Here is Parliament building. Heroes butchered in 1989.’