‘Maybe get a bun, then,’ Connie agreed, and they trailed wearily back to the market. She had wanted to sit opposite Devan in a quiet place, with a good meal and a glass of wine, so she could talk things through with him. But as she walked along the crowded streets, she realized nothing would be solved between them until either she agreed to retire or Devan found something to do that he enjoyed and stopped nagging her about it. And since both scenarios seemed highly unlikely at the moment, there was little point in opening up hostilities again. The best she could hope for was détente. Maybe now Devan was getting out more, his obsession would fade. He might even start investigating the options he’d mentioned, like sailing and the Open University. She could only hope.

Kraków took Connie’s breath away. And temporarily set her free from both Jared and Devan. It was a busy thirteen-day tour, stopping at Berlin, Kraków, Auschwitz and Warsaw, places she’d never seen before.

‘Will you look at that?’ Audrey Mason, from Wisconsin, gasped as the group arrived in the Rynek, Kraków’s huge expanse of market square, clutching Connie’s arm and staring all around in wonder. It was an extraordinary sight, with its elegant medieval townhouses, St Mary’s Basilica to the east, the famous fourteenth-century Cloth Hall.

Their guide today was Mirek, a tall Pole with a blond crew-cut and light blue eyes. Connie was going on all of the tours. Not only was she longing to explore this amazing city, but she also didn’t want time alone. Thinking only made her anxieties screech round her brain, like cars on a racetrack.

By evening, the Rynek looked magical, lit up and glowing, café tables dotting the square, humming with people chatting and strolling in the warm June evening. Tim and Julian, retired teachers from Norwich, both tall and rangy, tanned from regular rambling weekends, asked her to join them for supper. They’d found an outdoor table in a little café tucked into the corner of the square.

‘Na zdrowie!’ Julian raised his shot glass of vodka late in the evening. ‘Here’s to an inspiring tour.’

Tim and Connie followed suit, although Connie had dispensed with the vodka long ago in favour of white wine. But the delicious potato pancakes, the meaty pierogi and the vanilla cheesecake – all in portions that would have fed the three of them for a week – were fighting with the alcohol in her stomach and making her feel a bit queasy. She wanted to lie flat on her bed and undo her black jeans, but she couldn’t be rude: they were both so charming.

‘Are you coming tomorrow?’ Tim asked, suddenly sober. He was the quieter of the pair, Julian the talker.

She nodded.