Ragged clouds, buffeted by the wind, sped through the high peaks. Snow had fallen in the night and was heaped on either side of the path that led to the dining hall. On a bench near the fountain, drained for the winter, he passed Hélène, bundled into a dark green parka, with a glossy, Russian-style Cossack hat pulled down over her ears.

‘You’re white as a ghost,’ she proclaimed, as he drew closer. ‘You haven’t seen an owl this morning, have you? I saw a female just the other day, winging through the pines. A bad sign, you know. My eldest sister, may she rest in peace,’ Hélène said, ‘was quite the ornithomancer. A walking encyclopaedia of titbits about the meaning and lore of birds. I wonder if anyone spotted an owl just before that poor boy died. What was his name? But you look all right, so no harm done.’ She tilted her head and examined him with a sharp eye. ‘Too early for bourbon, but a strong cup of tea will fix you right up. Come with me.’ She stood and looped her arm through his, careful not to jostle the Chanel bag, and steered him in the direction of the main building. He’d been hoping to avoid the place, not wanting to run into Gessen, but her grip on his arm was surprisingly strong.

‘Nothing to be afraid of,’ she said. ‘It’s the library we’re heading to, not the dungeon in the cellar.’

‘Dungeon?’

She tweaked his exposed wrist. ‘What a scaredy cat you are.’

They entered through a side door and climbed a flight of stairs. The sounds of their passage down a long corridor were swallowed up by the thick grey carpet.

‘Here we are.’ She turned the knob on a heavy carved-wood door and led him into the room. Whatever Vidor had expected, it wasn’t this. Mullioned windows, painted ceiling. The hushed atmosphere of a cathedral was created no doubt by the plush chairs and book-lined walls. Why had he never been in here before? It was like stumbling upon an Aladdin’s cave, hidden behind a secret panel.

‘Lucky for us we have the place to ourselves.’ Her voice was brisk. ‘You sit over there, while I ring for tea.’

The bossy manner was new. Was it thwarted maternal instinct that drove her to treat him like a truculent child? Vidor relaxed into a wingback chair near the fire crackling in the grate. It was all very bewildering, as if he’d been transported by magic to a country house in the Sussex Downs.

He’d been dimly aware there was a library on the grounds, clearly listed amongst the clinic’s offerings in the patient information packet. But he’d preferred the sanctuary of his own room, rather than risk unwelcome contact with the other patients.