‘No. But go for a walk while I get things straightened out here.’ She tried to smile. ‘You’ll have to forgive them.’

Outside, she could breathe easy. The accumulated heat from the day washed over her bare arms and the sun was at its evening angle. Fringed by healthy-looking ash trees, the cross-roads that formed the centre of the hamlet had a number of chata fanning out from it towards the woods in the distance. There was nothing in the way of diversion, so she circled slowly around the hamlet. The summer undergrowth was dry and snappy and where they grew thickest the trees threw black shadows.

In several of the gardens, families were eating to the accompaniment of tinny-sounding transistor radios. Children ran around freely, making a lot of noise, and family dogs panted in the shadows. Laure watched two toddlers under a tree pouring water from one bucket into another with tin cups.

It looked so normal. It was normal.

She sat down on a bench at the crossroads. At least trees did not change, nor did sunlight and the sky and it was a relief to look at them. Otherwise, she was blundering around in a foreign setting.

After a while, Tomas came searching for her. He caught up with her on the path that led away from the buildings into the wood. He had washed, shaved and changed into a pair of mended but clean jeans and a T-shirt. ‘Reporting for duty,’ he said.

She was a little dismayed. ‘Not too much of a duty, I hope.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘I’d forgotten,’ he said softly. ‘How awkward it is to be your age.’

‘I’m not that much younger than you.’

‘But I feel much older.’

She indicated a family scene in the house closest to them. ‘Do you remember telling me that, although there’s enough of everything, everyone steals?’

‘In theory, there’s enough of everything.’

‘You made it sound as if it was anarchy out there but what I see here reminds me of England.’

‘No one steals in England? No wonder you want me to go there.’ He touched her breast. ‘May I do this?’ One eyebrow went up. ‘Or, should it be: can I?’

She laughed and felt a lot better. ‘You’re a good pupil.’

His fingers felt rough on her soft skin. ‘Actually, there’s an Eighth Czechoslovakian Wonder of the World which says that, under our great party leader Husák, may he live forever, these rules have worked for forty years. Provided we never utter the word “Russia”.’

In a trance, Laure allowed Tomas to lead her along the path leading into the wood. Inside the leaf canopy, the evening shadows were creeping along the ground and the birds had quietened. There was a smell of dry vegetation and hot stone, and the ground warmth percolated into her feet through her thin-soled shoes.