Before she could say anything, his brain caught up with his eyes. Carol had never seen anyone physically recoil before, but there was no other word to describe his actions. Tadeusz reared up to his full height, simultaneously taking a step backwards. His eyes widened and his mouth spread in a thin line as he sucked his breath in.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to alarm you,’ she said in English, assembling puzzlement on her face.

A turbulent series of emotions crossed his face. She could imagine his thought processes. Was he seeing a ghost? No, ghosts didn’t speak. Was she a hallucination? No, a hallucination wouldn’t talk to him in English. But if she wasn’t a ghost or a hallucination, who was she, standing here in the doorway of the opera box he’d shared with Katerina?

Carol took advantage of his confusion to step across the threshold. He took another step backwards, banging into one of the chairs, without even glancing to see what he’d hit. His eyes were fixed on her face, his gaze perplexed, frown lines etched deep between his brows. ‘Who are you?’ he said, his voice a small croak compared to the resonant demand he’d made when he’d first opened the door.

Carol kept the bewilderment in her face as she said, ‘You are Tadeusz Radecki? I am in the right place?’

‘I know who I am. What I want to know is who you are.’ Radecki had recovered some of his composure and his words were delivered in a tone that was almost covered by a veneer of civilized manners.

‘Caroline Jackson,’ she said, extending a hand tentatively towards him.

He reached for her hand and took it gingerly, as if afraid it would disappear under his touch. His fingers were cool and dry, but the handshake was strangely limp, like that of a politician who has to press the flesh more often than is comfortable. He bowed slightly, the familiarity of instilled manners providing him with a space to gather himself. ‘Tadeusz Radecki, as you rightly assumed.’ He dropped her hand and moved slightly further from her, still frowning, but with caution overlaying the hard-edged features of his face. ‘Now, perhaps, you would do me the courtesy of telling me what you are doing in my opera box?’

‘I wanted to meet you. I’m sorry to butt in on you like this, but I needed to be sure of getting you on your own. Somewhere private. Do you mind if I sit down?’ Carol wanted to be closer to the front of the box, where she could be seen from the tiers of seats in the circle. She knew Petra was out there somewhere, but she also wanted the added security of being visible. If she blew it from the start, she didn’t want to be vulnerable to violence. Not that he looked the sort who would need to resort to that.