So immersive and deep was the dream that it took Laure some time to reorientate herself, and, at first, Kočka’s face peering down at her from the chair made no sense.

She struggled upright. Kočka would need the cat-litter tray and she lifted the still limp body from the chair and set her down in the tray that had been added to the staggering bill paid to the vet.

Kočka protested but seemed to get the idea. Laure turned away. Even cats required privacy.

CHAPTER 7

AT THE MUSEUM THE CALLS CAME THICK AND FAST, mainly to do with the Maison de Grasse partnership.

While she waited for Laure’s attention, May perched on Nic’s desk and the two of them talked. From over the phone, Laure observed their interaction, swapping jokes, allusions, teases. Something told her, and she was unsure why, that they were seeking sanctuary in each other.

Nic laid his hand on May’s arm and May’s blue-grey eyes flew to Nic’s and they fell silent. A pang went through Laure. She, too, had experienced those wordless, electric exchanges that sent shocks through the body and soul.

The calls continued late until lunchtime. ‘I’m sorry,’ Laure finally put the phone down. ‘I must check on my sick cat.’

Nic did not take his eyes off May. ‘You denied having a cat when I asked.’

‘I didn’t then.’

May suggested she walk over to Laure’s apartment with her from where she had arranged to continue on to her next interview with a dress designer in the Marais. ‘So exciting. I’m spending the afternoon in a Parisian garret.’

Nic shot Laure a look that she interpreted as a warning. At the first opportunity, she took him aside. ‘What are you telling me?’

She had never seen anyone looked so shell-shocked as the normally cool Nic. ‘Look, she’s pretty ruthless when it comes to work.’ Laure knew she should put him out of his misery but watching the tussle between his loyalties was irresistible. ‘But, at heart, she’s lovely.’

This was as pitiful a case as Laure had ever seen and she almost felt sorry for the helpless Nic. Her lips twitched. ‘Shall I tell her that?’

‘No.’ Having clocked she was teasing, he added, ‘I just wanted to be sure that you knew that she can be… forensic.’

She peered hard at Nic and reminded herself that it was Nic, not herself, who was diving into swirling, lust-saturated waters. But she did know about the astonishingly visceral responses, the anticipation mixed with breathlessness and, in the best sense, about desire. Reflecting so, she felt that old beat of regret. Yet, grief and secrets were part of the deal in life and she had taught herself to get on with it. She smiled at him. ‘And you should be careful, too.’