Laure stacked the plates – the same fine porcelain ones she had noticed on first arriving – and took them into the kitchen where she put them into the washing-up bowl to soak. She steadied herself on the rim of the sink before returning to the dining room.

Petr looked up. ‘A boyfriend?’

‘No,’ she replied.

Petr took a mouthful from a tankard on which was embossed a coat of arms. ‘I think you do.’

‘Perhaps you are muddling the terms,’ she countered. ‘A friend is different from a boyfriend.’

‘I’m aware of the difference.’ He drank more of the beer and set the tankard down with a snap. ‘I’ve been speaking French as long as you.’

But not as well. She shut herself up before the words could pass her lips, observing instead, ‘That’s a beautiful tankard’.

Petr ran a finger over the armorial cartouche. ‘It belonged to the family who used to live here. They… left it behind.’ He tapped the rampant lion quartered with stars. ‘Why don’t you sit down?’

Laure obeyed and they faced each other across the table. Despite the questions, he seemed relaxed. He leant across, took her glass and poured some beer into it. ‘You really should try this. It’s part of our national life.’

Laure obeyed. From time to time, she drank with the best but this was an alien brew. ‘I don’t know much about beer but this seems… good.’

He regarded her with some amusement. ‘You’re a bad liar.’

Laure ducked her head. ‘Yup.’

He reflected. ‘I hope you’re not homesick.’ A questioning eyebrow went up and she shook her head. ‘But, if you are, you must promise to tell me.’

‘You’re very nice to me.’

He was looking down at his glass. ‘You’re an interesting person. And kind. Kindness is an expression of a healthy moral life and anyone who is good to my children, has our gratitude.’

She was embarrassed and, to counter it, she picked up the glass and regarded the contents. ‘I should warn you, Yorkshire people don’t give up easily.’

‘What else don’t you give up?’

He sounded very intense and she choked on her mouthful. ‘Lots of things.’

Petr seemed to relax. ‘I hope you don’t want to give up working here. You fit in well.’ He reached for the packet of cigarettes on the table behind him. ‘Could you pass me the ashtray?’

Laure pushed it over the polished surface of the table towards him. It was ridiculous but, in that moment, it flashed across her mind that she was inhabiting a parallel world and it was she who was married to Petr and she who occupied Eva’s place at the table.

‘So, his name?’ Petr asked.

‘Whose?’

‘The man who walked you home the other night.’

She recalled how Tomas had recoiled when she told him where she lived. ‘Am I being watched?’