Eva turned her head on the pillow. ‘I suppose it was. A big one. In your lifetime, you choose one or two of those and it’s important to stick with them, whatever your doubts. It took me a while to learn that. The sticking-with bit, I mean.’

Laure bent over to straighten the sheet, a thick linen one which must have been hot and propped Eva up on the bolster. ‘You must concentrate on getting better.’

Eva sank back. ‘Thank you.’ She closed her eyes. ‘Petr has promised me that I can be buried in the village.’ She looked up at Laure. ‘That’s a comfort to know.’

‘You’re not going to die,’ Laure said.

‘You never know. It’s as well to think about what happens if you do.’

As Laure left the bedroom, Eva said. ‘Thank you for staying to help look after the children.’ She paused. ‘Petr appreciates it. Not just the children.’

Laure grasped the door handle tight.

‘But,’ continued Eva, ‘I think you’ll be happy to go home when the time comes. Don’t you? Being far from home is not a good thing.’ Eva was making a point. ‘I will be frank with you. If Petr remains in Prague, then it’s better to get a Czech woman to help out. Or…’ This time the pause between the sentences seemed extra meaningful. ‘Or, to marry. You’re very nice and very good, but you’re young and you don’t know how things work.’

Astonished, Laure exclaimed, ‘What are you thinking? I’m not going to marry your husband. Nobody is.’

Eva sent Laure a half smile. ‘I’ve learnt not to be absolute about the future.’

It was as if Eva no longer considered herself to be part of the equation, which was almost as troubling as Eva’s suggestions about Laure and Petr – which she took to be sick and weary fancies.

‘Eva, I will help look after your children as long as I am here, and as best I can. But that’s all.’

That night, Petr and Laure ate supper together as usual, working their way through boiled potatoes and beans which they ate under the chandelier. Petr was deploying his trick of making Laure feel that she was the only person on the planet, to which she responded half-heartedly.

He noticed. ‘You seem preoccupied? Is there anything going on?’

‘No,’ she answered.

‘It’s very nice having you here,’ he said, gesturing to the room. ‘Otherwise, it would be very empty.’

He drank his beer and diverted her with questions about Brympton, squirrelling out details about local transport and the National Health Service. Laure described the train which ran cross-country between Leeds and York which she took on schooldays. ‘It was the only way to get there.’ She looked across the table, ‘Do you really want to know all this stuff?’