She felt a good deal more comfortable in Australia, although would not yet say she felt at home. She was coming to think that one’s first home holds tight to the role and will thwart any competition. But she was establishing routines, and whole days could now pass without her being tripped up by Australian ways.

On this particular morning, she and Andrew were eating breakfast at her local café. Both were early risers, and after a couple of hours’ work, they often took a coffee break together. But today was different: Galina had telephoned Andrew at seven and suggested they meet for breakfast. It was such a lovely morning, she said, it would be a shame not to enjoy it.

So here they were at the café around dawn. The temperature outside was just a few degrees above zero, and there was frost on the grass — enough to give a lovely crunch underfoot. People were entering the warm café as if they were escaping a blizzard. There had been several days of low temperatures, and everyone was complaining about the cold.

Galina was amused by the local reaction. ‘I am waiting for a really wintry day,’ she said to Andrew as they ate their breakfast. ‘Not snow, I know it will not snow here. But cold with an Antarctic wind,’ she emphasised ‘Antarctic’ to distinguish it from her far more familiar ‘Arctic’, ‘and the requirement for hat and gloves.’

Andrew felt a rush of pleasure, more for the formality of her speech, which he delighted in, than its content. ‘You might be waiting a long time,’ he said. And then, for no apparent reason, he asked, ‘When’s your birthday?’

A smile rose to her face, one of those private smiles behind which lay memories. ‘I was born on the cusp of spring, March 23rd. Although often the snow was still thick on the ground and it might still have been midwinter.’

He asked how she had celebrated her birthday in Leningrad. And she told of a special outing, a concert or a film, followed by a celebratory supper at home. There would be the retelling of the past year in highlights, and the forecasting of the year ahead in hopes.

‘We took every opportunity to celebrate,’ she said.

Fresh coffee arrived, and they both sipped in silence, immersed in their own thoughts. After a time, Andrew put his cup down and leaned across the table. He was looking rather pleased with himself. ‘Let’s go to the snow,’ he said. ‘A holiday in the Victorian High Country. We could find a place that’s not popular with skiers, and you could wander around and pretend you were in the countryside near Leningrad.’