‘I know it’s none of my business. But I can still wish you didn’t have to bribe everything and everyone.’ She looked up at him. ‘And you were free to write your songs.’

‘That’s your freedom.’

She frowned. ‘But not yours.’

‘I like the idea. I love the idea. But I live here.’

She said stubbornly, ‘It doesn’t stop me wanting it for you.’

His face softened. ‘Come here.’ She hopped up to his step and he pulled her close. And on that narrow wooden staircase, Tomas bent over and kissed her to within an inch of her life.

Would she ever forget? The feel of his mouth on hers? The fight to keep balanced? The staircase spiralling beneath them?

She repeated. ‘I won’t stop wanting it for you.’

‘Don’t stop trying,’ he said in Laure’s ear. ‘It’s wonderful to be cared for. To have someone care, I mean. I love your stubbornness.’ His mouth found the soft place under her ear. ‘I love your freshness. Your sweetness. Everything about you, in fact.’

She put up a hand and cradled the back of his head. If it was possible to die of happiness, or emotion, she was dying.

‘Come.’ He took her hand and led her up the final few stairs to a door that looked a recent addition.

Tomas rapped on it and it opened to reveal a pale vitamin-starvedlooking man of forty or so. He beckoned them inside to an attic where there was a tiny passage with a couple of doors leading off it.

The place smelt of illness – a hint of germicide and urine – and was dark and claustrophobic.

‘This is my cousin, Pavel,’ said Tomas. ‘He looks after my great-aunt who we’ve come to see.’

A rapid conversation in Czech took place and Tomas grew serious. He asked some questions in Czech and drew Laure aside. ‘My great-aunt has been taken ill. I didn’t know.’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘I’m sorry but I’m afraid it would be best if you left. Will you be able to get back on your own?’

She nodded. With obvious relief, Tomas turned back to Pavel.

As she made her way downstairs and past the snooping concierge, Laure reflected on the ironies. She belonged to Tomas in a fundamental way, of that she was sure. Even after such a short acquaintance she was sure. Quite sure.

But she did not belong to his world.

CHAPTER 14

Berlin 1996

IN HIS HOTEL ROOM OFF THE ALEXANDERPLATZ, PETR Kobes dressed with his usual care for the evening reception. Suit, pale-blue shirt, silk tie. The tie was from Paris and one of his favourites.