Was this a sex game? She had no knowledge on which to call. No experience. Was Petr beating his wife up or trying to rape her? And the blood?

Whatever it was, it was horrible. Saliva rushed into her mouth and she swallowed frantically.

Was Petr murdering Eva?

Who could she call for help?

Frozen by horror, she was unable to move. Then, it was over. Eva quietened, began to sob and muttered words in Czech. Petr released her and stood upright.

The treacherous floorboards creaked as Laure slid past. Over Eva’s bare, white shoulder, Petr encountered Laure’s appalled gaze as he bent to kiss his wife.

She stuttered. ‘Is everything all right? Can I get help?’

‘No,’ said Petr, walking over to the door. ‘It’s over now. Eva will sleep.’ He seemed exhausted and infinitely sad. ‘It’s not what you think.’

‘But the blood?’

‘Nothing for you to worry about. Perhaps one day I can explain. But not now.’ He held out his bloody hands. ‘I’m very sorry about this.’

‘My God, what is this?’

She read confusion and distress in his eyes, and her own softened. ‘Can I help?’

‘You’re quite safe,’ he said. ‘I promise.’

She fled down the corridor. On her return, the door had been closed. She went to bed and lay flat. Prague on a Shoestring would not be offering enlightenment and she directed her energies into trying not to think about the dreadful and complicated things that went on behind that door.

CHAPTER 6

Paris, present day

LAURE WAS OUTLINING TO MAY WILLIAMS THE PLANS FOR the lunch to celebrate the collaboration between the museum and the Maison de Grasse when the first of the day’s interviewees was ushered in.

She was a woman of forty or so, who had once been beautiful but had dieted herself into a pickled-looking skin. She had heavily made-up eyes with black rings engraved under them and professionally manicured hands. The preliminaries dispensed with, she produced a games board and a set of wooden chess pieces, which she set out with an ease that suggested second nature.

It was done in silence. Used to waiting, Laure took the time to observe a tell-tale downturn of the woman’s mouth but also her expensive leather designer jacket.

When she had placed the last pawn in position and the two sides were ranged against the other, she began. ‘You might not recognize me,’ she said in heavily accented English, ‘but my name is Adeline LeDuc.’

‘I’ve heard of you,’ said Laure.

May was already googling the name. ‘You’re a grandmaster at chess.’

‘Yes.’

May read out, ‘It’s a title awarded for life. Currently, only three women hold it.’

‘That is true, too,’ said Adeline. She slipped into French. ‘But it’s not helpful to… rather, I try to avoid gender politics.’

Laure translated for May and indicated the chess pieces. ‘That’s a beautiful chess set.’