As he laughed, his face lit up and he looked properly at ease for the first time since Connie had met him. It was as if he’d stepped out of the stiff, slightly diffident costume he’d been wearing for the tour. Is he cowed by his indomitable godmother?

‘It’s a bit like being a parent,’ she said. Which was true. You had to keep a constant eye open, be aware on a visceral level of the integrity of the group at every minute of the day. When she’d first started, she’d been so terrified she would lose the tickets, their luggage, even one of the passengers, or miss the trains, that she’d hardly slept, arriving home after a week abroad a nervous wreck. But very soon she had realized she was capable of sorting out most situations thrown at her with comparative ease.

‘Hear that, Walter?’ Jared nudged the American. ‘Connie’s your new mum.’

Walter smiled weakly. ‘Fine by me.’

There was silence for a moment between the three of them. It was getting chilly: the evening sky had clouded over and a breeze was filtering up from the lake.

Then Jared said, ‘Well, I think you’re brilliant.’

His words were delivered so simply, but with such feeling, that Connie was taken aback and felt an instant blush rise to her cheeks. She gave an embarrassed laugh, quickly looking back to the American.

‘How’s it going, Walter?’ she asked. ‘Do you think you’re OK to start walking down to the harbour? You can lean on me. We’ll go really slowly.’ She knew her tone was slightly forced, but she was confused by Jared and needed to shift the focus. He’d said nothing much, certainly nothing contentious. But it was the way he’d said it – and being in the beam of his strange eyes – that unnerved her.

Connie was glad when Walter nodded. ‘Let’s give it a go.’

Later that evening, Walter in bed and given the all-clear by the brusque Italian doctor the hotel had summoned, Connie closed the door of her bedroom with relief. Although she was pretty sure that Walter had never been in mortal danger, there was always the chance that he might have become really ill and needed hospital treatment – with all the attendant worries that would have entailed.

She undressed and washed, taking a few minutes to open the French windows and step out onto the balcony in her bare feet. Her room faced the gardens at the back of the hotel – no lake view for the tour manager – but the air felt cool and soothing on her face, the stars an extraordinary display in the clear spring night.

It was gone eleven, but only ten o’clock in England, so she got into bed and reached for her phone. ‘Did I wake you?’ she asked, because Devan sounded groggy.

‘No, no. Just watching some dross on the television.’