He didn’t reply, just pulled her up from where they sat and lifted her in his arms, laying her gently on the bed, pulling the duvet over her. She watched as he peeled off his jacket and shoes, his jeans, until he was in his cotton shirt and boxers. Then he slipped into bed beside her.

Turning her gently on her side and bringing his body close, he wrapped his arm loosely across her body. ‘Go to sleep,’ he said quietly.

But Connie couldn’t and, judging by Jared’s quick breath on her neck and the tension fizzing off him, it was clear he couldn’t either. She longed so much to make love to him right now, she could scarcely bear it. Is it wrong? she asked herself, as she lay, hardly daring to breathe, trying to control her desire. The cold, the anguish and hate that had stalked her day, the smell of terror that still haunted the place, seemed to reproach her. She felt ashamed that she was alive and free, able to enjoy the sensuous warmth of Jared’s body against her back. But the life surging through her veins right now was irresistible, impossible to deny. She took a shaky breath, then turned to him.

Connie must have slept very deeply because when she woke Jared was gone.

A note, written on hotel stationery, was propped on the bedside table. All it said was ‘Warsaw? x’.

She stared at it for a moment, remembering. The sex had been blissful. Quick, intense and cathartic, their bodies were so ready, so pumped with desire, that all thought of what she was doing – and whether she should be doing it – was temporarily banished. She had just let go. Now, through the haze of sleep, her pulse couldn’t help but quicken at the prospect of seeing him again. Shame seeped around the edges of the thought, but she was too discombobulated, as she hauled herself out of bed and got ready for work, to give it proper attention.

Miles and Deborah Loader from Worcester – in their mid-seventies, a lively, inquisitive couple – accosted Connie as soon as she got out of the lift. They had obviously been waiting for her, but she was late down to breakfast, having dressed and packed on autopilot, her thoughts consumed with Jared.

‘Connie, dear,’ Deborah began, both of them flanking her as if they were worried she might make a run for it, ‘we don’t want to fuss, but we wondered if you could help us with something.’

Connie tried to focus. Something was wrong because Deborah, usually so engaging, looked pale and upset this morning. ‘Of course,’ she said, with her best smile.

Miles seemed a bit embarrassed as he took over. ‘We’re going home.’

‘Oh …’ Connie was surprised. No one had ever left early from one of her tours.