Something in him had unfolded a little since last time. ‘Very well, thank you. It’s a privilege to play for you tonight.’

‘I’m so happy to see you. And you’re here! A wonderful job, congratulations.’

‘Thank you, I’ve been lucky.’

‘Tell me: your family… are they with you now?’

‘Gott sei dank,’ he smiled, ‘they are. You are kind to ask.’

‘How wonderful – and are they all right? Are you all right?’

‘Sometimes,’ he said, playing a flourish, ‘I think there really is somebody up in heaven, taking care of us. Yes, they are well and we have been fortunate with the kindness of people we’ve met here.’

‘It must have been incredible to see them when they arrived.’

‘I met them from the boat train at Victoria.’ Bernhard gave the warmest smile she had yet seen him venture. ‘I think I shall remember that moment when I am dying. They came towards me through the steam, and I knelt and held my arms out to them. And I thought the children would not know me, so long it was we had been apart – but they ran to me… and we make a vow together: nothing will ever, ever separate us again.’

Jelly wiped a tear from her eye. ‘No wonder you’re playing so beautifully. Please, let me buy you a drink when you take a break?’

‘Let me play something for you.’ Bernhard finished the song with a flourish that floated from end to end of the keyboard, then launched without a break into a Brahms Hungarian Dance. Restless syncopation, long phrases in six bars rather than four, intermediary flourishes like flames flickering in a Gypsy fire by night. Jelly’s feet wouldn’t keep still.

Her arms were empty of the one thing she needed. ‘Don’t stop, I’m coming straight back,’ she told Bernhard, leaving her shawl on her chair.

Her violin was under her bed upstairs. It wouldn’t take long to fetch it; and she’d brought a sheaf of music, too, with piano parts, having no intention of going to Chelsea any time soon to pick up more. She grabbed the lot from her room and, on her way back down, ignored the curious glances of the boy who worked the lift and the waiter who controlled the lounge entrance. Switching on her performance self, she seemed to grow to match the size of the rest of the world.

‘May I?’ she said to Bernhard, by the piano. She opened her violin case; glancing around she noticed a few curious gazes from the businessmen over their drinks.

‘An honour, Miss d’Arányi.’ He seemed unfazed, playing with one hand, reaching with the other for the piano parts she offered him.