“Hello?” Her voice clear and untainted.

“It’s Ludwik,” I said.

“Oh.” Surprise in her voice, a little pause. “Come on up.”

I took the lift, observed my burdened face in the mirror. The last time I’d been there with you felt like a lifetime ago.

The door to the flat was open as I came out of the lift. Hania stood beside it, with a conciliatory smile that pained me. She was wearing a sweater, a long red skirt, and thick socks. We kissed on the cheek.

“It’s good to see you,” she said softly, and again I believed her, as I had every time she’d said it. I could hardly muster the strength to go in. The flat looked lighter and bigger than I remembered. We walked through to the splendid living room where the party had been, now flooded by winter light. She made me sit on the white couch.

“Would you like something to drink? Grapefruit juice?” She frowned, sensing my nervousness, maybe. “Some brandy?”

I shook my head.

She sat down, her long skirt falling from couch to carpet.

“I need to apologize to you,” she said, looking at me ruefully. “About the night in the country. I’m sorry the zupa was so strong. I feel terrible about the whole thing. It all went too far, and it was my fault.” She looked embarrassed.

“It’s OK,” I said, feeling relieved. “You didn’t know. I’m sorry for taking off without a word.”

I tried to smile. She nodded, as if she’d understood.

There was silence for a moment, in which I felt my pulse quicken.

“I came to ask you a favor,” I heard myself say. I couldn’t look at her, so I looked at my interlaced fingers, which I’d been pressing so hard they’d turned red and white. “I’m in trouble. I need your help.”

Her eyes widened, and she gave me a nod, as if to say, “Go on.”

I told her about the man in the office. The words came out more easily than before. I chose them carefully. I told her I wanted to leave to see my uncle. That they were holding on to my passport, blackmailing me—though I didn’t go into detail. I avoided the question for as long as I could, absurdly, and she let me go on. Light shone onto the parquet, making it look smooth and perfect, like the surface of an ice rink. Hania looked at me with concern and sympathy all the way through, and strangely, despite myself, despite all my instincts of pain and revenge and humiliation for having to ask her, of all people, I felt a surge of love for her gentleness, her kindness in listening to me. For her ignorance of all that had happened between you and me. And for my innocence as seen through her eyes. When I finished talking, she put her hand on my shoulder, a hand that weighed almost nothing, and said:

“I will talk to my father.”