Coffee arrived. It was thin, ersatz stuff but it almost burnt the tongue. They lit cigarettes and drank it slowly.

The band was playing a slow, smoochy number and the dance floor was becoming crowded.

He glanced at her over the coffee cup. ‘Dance?’

She got to her feet. ‘Is there any risk in you seeing me?’

Petr shook his head. ‘Why would there be? We have a history that is bona fide. The Czechoslovakia you knew no longer exists. The Berlin Wall is a pile of rubble. East and West are climbing into bed. I’m a widower with no ties. Being seen with you is not a political problem any longer.’

‘Or a social one?’

A group of men were becoming raucous. One of them tried to climb onto a table and was hauled down by his companions.

She slid into his arms. Petr closed his eyes for an ineffable second.

‘Is it easy dealing with the West?’ she asked. ‘There must be so much distrust on either side?’

‘Would you believe we manage, despite the fact we are Neanderthals?’ He gestured to the adjacent table where a group of bulky men in grey suits were necking vodka. ‘Which particular sin did you have in mind? Bribery? Extortion? Smuggling? But the short answer is yes. There are plenty of opportunities to distrust.’

Her fingers tapped a rhythm on his shoulder. ‘I think you Czechs are both smart and emotional people. So are the Russians. The East Germans and British are different. But everyone likes being rich. Or richer.’

‘So?’

He held her lightly, tactfully – the girl who had danced to a rock group, her cheeks flushed with sunburn. But the girl he had also seen beaten up and half naked in a cell. A sight that had driven everything from his head except the desire to protect.

‘Are you trying to get information out of me, Laure?’ The muscles in her back stiffened a little. ‘If you are, it’s quite funny, isn’t it? A turnaround for the books, as you might say.’

The Laure of now was far too well schooled to give anything away. Looking up into his face, she said softly, ‘Tell me the truth about Eva.’

His hand tightened on her waist. Taking comfort in its slenderness and warmth. ‘You’re right,’ he said. He looked over her shoulder to the band. ‘Eva killed herself.’

‘Oh God.’ She shook her head as if she had been hit physically. ‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry. So sorry.’ After a second or two she added, ‘I feel for the children. For you. For Eva.’ She looked up into his face. ‘When I sat with her those times, she talked about you. So often.’

‘Did she?’ The intimacy of this exchange was making him clumsy and he almost lost his footing.

After a moment, she said, ‘Eva loved you very much. She told me. She always worried about your happiness.’