She noted genuine concern on his face. ‘May I ask you something, Petr?’ He nodded. ‘Do you really work for a pharmaceutical company?’

Risky.

‘Did your new friends put you up to that question?’

‘I’ve never discussed you with them. Do you?’

His reply was pleasant but held an edge. ‘What makes you think I don’t?’

‘You don’t go to the office very much and you ask me a lot of questions.’

‘One should always ask questions, Laure. I will answer yours. I work for Potio Pharma and have done so for many years. Pharmaceuticals is an important industry. Lives depend on it.’

She looked again at the dying tree. ‘Will you excuse me while I go to the Ladies?’

Inside the stuffy cubicle, she sat on the lavatory seat and took a deep breath. In a basket on the floor were copies of the official Party newspaper, Rudé Právo, torn into squares. At the marionette theatre, Milos had told her that it was the favoured newspaper for lavatory paper because it had the largest pages, was printed on high-quality paper and, because rival newspapers were blocked, it was obtainable most places.

She should never have asked that question. Foolish Laure.

When she returned, Petr had paid the bill. ‘You’re beginning to see that Prague is not Paris. And I think you think that I’m interfering. Or worse. But I’m not.’ He stood up.

The strap of her rucksack had caught around the chair and he leaned over to disengage it. He held out the bag. ‘You’ve been very helpful to the family and I’m grateful. I don’t want anything to go wrong.’

Because the sentiment was genuine her wariness melted a fraction. ‘Giving me the job helped me too.’

‘That’s good to know.’

Eva had been in bed for nearly a week. Some sort of bug, she said.

Laure struggled to keep the normal routines and was fully occupied looking after the children. Fetching and carrying, she learnt (with some dismay) she harboured a dark strand in her spirit. Helping Eva get to the bathroom and witnessing her gag over her food provoked a guilty contrast that she, Laure, was young, strong and fresh-skinned.

On several occasions, Petr made a point of asking her to share the evening meal with him. It had almost become a routine. It seemed to please him to have Laure sitting across the table and to demand from her descriptions of life in England. Laure was happy to play along but, as the week progressed, she found herself wild with impatience to take herself off.

At the first possible opportunity, Laure headed for the Staré Mĕsto. An unexpected, but brief, shower fell as she crossed the Charles Bridge and, in the few minutes before the moisture evaporated, the city glistened like a painting.