John suggested the British Museum. It was too wet for a walk, and the nights were closing in. The museum would be warm and quiet, with little chance of anyone recognising them.

He stood between the pillars at the top of the steps, the hood of his duffel coat pulled up, a scarf muffled at the neck. He’d bought a two-bar electric heater for his flat and it cosied up his sitting room, but his nerves stayed frozen and his flesh goose-pimpled and now the chilly, dank air made him shiver. He’d come early and she was late. He thrust his hands deep in the pockets of his coat, fiddling with the fluff at the bottom, stomping to stir his circulation. He could slip inside the building, but then he might miss her. And if she didn’t come soon, there’d be no time before closing.

He peered across the courtyard, trying to make out the figures in the thick, mustard light. Someone tapped his shoulder. He turned.

‘I’ve been waiting inside,’ she said. ‘Have you been here all the time?’

‘This was where we agreed to meet. On the steps.’ Her breeziness made him cross. He didn’t care if he sounded irritable.

‘I know. But it was cold and I thought you’d see me. No matter.’ She turned, led the way through the revolving doors. ‘Where to?’

‘Coins,’ he said. ‘Korea. No one ever visits.’

They threaded their way up and into the empty gallery with its serried ranks of display cases in dark wooden frames.

‘You have to be seriously interested in coins,’ he said, ‘to come here. It’s all a bit forbidding, don’t you think?’

She nodded, drifting over to a cabinet against the wall, her coat tucked over her arm. Her face gave nothing away.

‘Let’s get down to business,’ she said. ‘Shall we?’ He’d hoped they’d talk their way into the matters at hand, pleasantries to make them feel better. He was still in love with her. All he needed was a signal, however slight, to suggest that all was not lost.

She stared at the coins in front of her, pretending to study them, one finger on the glass as if she was pointing at something.

‘You begin,’ she said.

He breathed in hard. He’d thought through what he had to say, but not how to start the conversation. He’d expected her to be less forthright, to coax him, tickle it out of him. He had no ready words.

‘I had no idea—’ He coughed, a nervy ahem, buying time. ‘I had no idea that you and Lieselotte were sisters.’ She was staring ahead at the coins. Joseon Dynasty. 1752. ‘She didn’t speak about her family.’ He glanced at her sideways, added, ‘Any more than you.’