‘So was Georgia always part of the Russian Empire?’ Suzy asked Ian. Perhaps it was her imagination, but Kate had the sense she already knew the answer to this perfectly well. If she was playing him, he took the bait.

‘No, it declared independence at the end of the First World War, after the Tsar had stood down. But it only lasted about a year before Lenin ordered the troops in to take it back. It was why it was one of the first Soviet republics to declare independence when glasnost got going.’

‘I thought the Georgians had a pretty good run of the Soviet Empire?’

‘They did, if you can ignore the deportations, mass shootings and trips to the gulag. Stalin was their man, too, of course, so they have rather mixed feelings about him now. They maintained a pretty strong sense of national identity throughout, so maybe it was no surprise they were among the first to want out.’

They arrived at the hotel. Suzy had booked it through the Travel Department and Kate thought she must spend much of her life on the Mr & Mrs Smith website, since Rooms Hotel Tbilisi bore a striking resemblance to Das Stue in Berlin, and was another study in low-key luxury. The central lobby had floor-to-ceiling bookcases on both sides, though all of the books appeared to be in English – a sign of the direction the hotel, and perhaps the country, was facing. They walked over polished red and cream tiles, past a curved green velvet and wood sofa and renaissance chandeliers until a bellboy in red hat and jacket, with a gold tassel on the shoulder, leapt at Kate’s small shoulder bag and insisted on escorting her to her room.

She rummaged in her pocket and produced a twenty-lari tip.

It was a big room with a free-standing iron-clawed bath, sumptuous green velvet curtains and bold black and tangerine wallpaper. The lighting was low, the atmosphere moody. It was comfortable, luxurious even, and so clearly designed for couples in the first flush of lust as to be the last place on earth Kate felt like being. She thought painfully of the night on the train with Sergei and found it hard to push the image of his distorted face from her mind.

She washed her face and went downstairs to wait for Julie in the bar. She ordered some kind of lavender cocktail – made with gin and coconut – and sat beneath a giant painting of a woman seated backwards on a zebra. It was that kind of hotel.

Kate’s cocktail arrived, shortly followed by Julie. ‘What is that?’ she asked.

Kate sipped it. ‘Too sweet for you.’

Julie waved at the waiter. ‘Gin and tonic, please. Hendrick’s, if there’s a choice.’ As he disappeared again, Julie took in their surroundings. ‘A stoner’s paradise,’ she said. ‘Have you spoken to Mikhail?’