Standing in the shadows over by the exit, Laure observed the children’s reactions after the yellow curtains had jerked shut. Admittedly, some were taciturn, but most had been set alight by the performance and their excited treble chatter dominated the bustle and noise of the audience’s exit.

A hand slipped into hers and she jumped.

‘Missed me?’

‘Maybe.’

‘Only maybe?’ His fingers closed tighter over hers. ‘That’s not so good.’

She wanted to ask where he had been but stopped herself. She was not going to be the needy, begging thing that she had been with Rob Dance.

‘I’ve been out of town,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t leave a message.’

He had been thinking of her after all. She swallowed. ‘I’ve been busy too.’

‘I want you to meet someone,’ he said. ‘Can you come?’

‘Give me fifteen minutes.’

The marionettes stowed, and the costumes packed up, she joined Tomas at the entrance where he was talking to Lucia. At Laure’s approach, Lucia waved a hand at Tomas and moved off.

Laure turned to Tomas. ‘Where are we going?’

‘To see someone I’m fond of.’

The heat claimed them as Tomas piloted her through the streets towards the old Jewish quarter and stopped at the entrance to a large apartment block on its perimeter. His hand in the small of her back, he guided her inside. ‘Don’t say anything,’ he said. ‘I’ll explain later.’

Inside the lobby an elderly, black-clad woman sat at a makeshift desk. At Tomas’s entrance, her head bobbed up and Laure was aware of a hard gaze directed at them both.

The hand on Laure’s back tensed.

‘Tomas Josip,’ said the woman. The tone was hostile.

Tomas steered Laure towards the staircase. ‘Up,’ he commanded, overtaking her.

Laure cast a swift look over her shoulder. The woman was now writing in a large ledger.

‘Comrade Concierge,’ Tomas said in a low voice over his shoulder as he ran up the stairs. ‘She rules the street like all the concierges. They are the backbone of the State, feeding in information. They get drunk on information. They spy on their children. But pity the person who drops cigarette ash on one of their staircases. I’m a decadent.’ He panted slightly as they hoofed up a third and narrower flight of stairs, up to the top of the building. ‘She hates me. The great delight of her life is to report on me. The bugger is, she’s incorruptible. Most of them like to be slipped a gift. This one doesn’t.’

Laure was fitter than Tomas and caught up with him. ‘Don’t you wish for better,’ she cried, ‘than being spied on by old women?’

‘Shush,’ he turned around and placed a hand over her mouth. ‘Shush.’

Obediently, she lowered her voice. ‘I want better for you.’

He balanced precariously on the stair above her. ‘I believe you do.’