At an early Sunday supper in the dining room, Laure and the Kobes struggled through one of Eva’s unappetizing pasta creations.

Polite as ever, Petr wanted to know what she and the children had done that day. Laure described their trip up to the castle. ‘I had to give Maria a piggyback up the last few steps,’ she said. ‘Nearly killed me.’

‘That was kind.’

‘She held my hand coming down as I don’t like heights.’ She grimaced. ‘We’ve got a good thing going, Maria and me. We danced at the bottom. People thought we were mad.’

Eva ate slowly and, not for the first time, Laure observed a qualitative difference in her since coming home. And certainly after the disastrous delegates’ lunch.

On some days, she seemed anxious and given to rapid monologues. On others, subdued and listless. When Laure first met Eva, she had not been skinny. But not plump either. In the past few weeks, she had put on weight around her midriff and looked sallow and tired.

They ate mostly in silence.

A preoccupied Laure had no objection. Jan and Maria had been noisy all day and she was grateful for peace, any kind of peace. The pasta sauce had been made with smoked fish and was salty and pungent and she had to concentrate to get it down. After a struggle, she put down her fork.

‘Lost your appetite?’ Petr looked up from his food which he had not finished either.

‘I hope you will excuse me, but the heat…’

‘I’m sure that’s so.’

There was a flicker of humour as he said it but, as was often the case with Petr, she wasn’t absolutely sure. ‘I’m not used to it.’

It was only half a lie. Laure and heat were good friends, but she was in the grip of something more perplexing. After Rob, and the agony she had endured over his indifference, she had told her friend Jane that she was sworn off becoming even mildly diverted by anyone. ‘I’m not bothering ever again.’

Jane had called her a drama queen but Jane’s mother took her aside. ‘He’s a wazzock that one,’ she said. ‘Just you tell everyone that his organ is the size of a pin and you couldn’t find it.’

Yet, here she was, kidnapped by a sensation that wasn’t going to release her any time soon. There was a name for it: bloody, hurtful, useless sexual attraction.

Petr pushed his plate aside. ‘Forgive me, but you have a boyfriend, I think.’

Laure felt a thump of anxiety. ‘I wouldn’t say that.’

Avoiding Laure’s gaze, Eva got to her feet. ‘I need to check on the children.’