Laure put down her fork. ‘Can I ask you something? It’s been bothering me.’ She looked down at her plate. ‘Eva’s death? Was it straightforward? The way you told me suggested it wasn’t.’

‘I’m not going to answer.’

‘You can’t or won’t.’

‘I can’t.’ He cast around to change the subject. ‘About your earlier comment about my clothes, there’s no logical reason while you shouldn’t like fine things and still be a communist.’

Laure shuffled a piece of gristle to the edge of her plate. ‘A communist may look at a king and copy the outfits?’

‘Did you come here to make me angry?’

‘Perhaps.’ Her smile was reflective. ‘It’s tempting.’ There was a pause. ‘So, you stayed at Potio Pharma but as CEO instead of international sales manager?’

‘The board—’

‘The board…?’ she interjected. ‘I love it.’

‘The board,’ he repeated with an emphasis, ‘considered that I was the safe pair of hands required to oversee its transition from a state-owned company to a shareholder one.’

After the goulash, they were served with a slice of robust cheese and dense bread, both of which were surprisingly good. This was followed by a slab of greyish-looking cake with a dab of jam. They regarded this culinary triumph thoughtfully.

‘It did say torte on the menu,’ said Laure, in a way that reminded him of the easily amused girl he had once known.

Petr took an experimental bite. ‘Call it what you will, it’s terrible.’ He pushed the plate to one side. ‘Is your German as good as your French?’

‘Almost. I took my degree in it, with French of course and some Italian.’

He wiped his mouth with his napkin. ‘Didn’t you want to read politics at university? What made you change your mind?’

‘Believe it or not, I wanted a rest from politics.’ The irony was marked. ‘Anyway, if I wanted to work in the Foreign Office, I needed languages.’ She toyed with her unused dessert fork. ‘It’s a strange coincidence that we’ve met again. But it happens. That’s what makes life interesting.’ She turned a pair of large eyes onto him. ‘What are you really doing in Berlin, Petr?’

‘As I told you. I’m a CEO now. Of a large company. We have to get it onto the European map.’

‘And when you saw me at the reception?’

He thought about their last meeting and of what had taken place.

‘It was a moment. I admit that. I wanted to know if…’

‘If?’

‘You still hated me.’

There was no hesitation. ‘I did.’ He had an image of her gathering up the sharp shards of that hatred. ‘I do, Petr.’

He placed his napkin on the table. ‘Like everything in this world, hatred ages. It begins hot, strong and sometimes violent. It ends up musty and brittle. Wouldn’t you agree?’

‘Or you grow to rely on it.’