Her nails dug into her palms. She had made a mistake in imagining that she wouldn’t get involved on a deep-down level instead of a manageable one. It was the difference between a helpless, visceral response to a frail little cat whose claws had dug into her pulpy heart and the sensible, practical course where Laure did her best to ensure a stray was comfortable and fed – and nothing more than that.

‘Where are you?’ Again, she searched the apartment. Kitchen, bedroom, sitting area. ‘Where are you?’

At the back of her mind was the absurd demand: you can’t leave me.

Please.

But the realization hardened that Kočka had probably abandoned Laure and was back battling her way through the Parisian streets. The familiar, bitter grief crept over her.

Reluctantly, drearily, she went over to shut the window.

Then thought better of it and left it half open.

An hour later, in the Marais restaurant, Simon put down the implement with which he had been extracting snails from the shell. ‘Something’s wrong.’

Normally, the scents of garlic and melted butter would have been ambrosial but, at this moment, they sickened her.

She explained.

Simon said, ‘But you weren’t going to keep her.’

‘No, I wasn’t, was I.’ She was hoping she wouldn’t let herself down but her eyes filled up. ‘But I can’t bear to think of her back on the streets, suffering and hungry. At the mercy of God knows what.’

He leant over and smudged an escaped tear with his thumb. ‘I haven’t seen this side of you very often.’

She dashed her hand across her eyes. ‘That’s because it isn’t a side. Just a blip.’

Simon finished the snails. ‘I know you work very hard at being contained and I have two things to say about it. One, it doesn’t fool everyone. Or, rather, it doesn’t fool me. Two, it’s a waste of energy. We all have feelings, some of them run very deep indeed. It’s a negation to hide them.’

She managed a half laugh. ‘Have you been on a mindfulness course or something?’

‘Actually, yes. And you should have been with me.’

This was unexpected. ‘Do you and Valerie talk about those sorts of things?’

‘We do now.’ He leant over and refilled her glass.

‘Lucky Valerie.’ She thought for a moment. ‘Since we are talking this way, you do love Valerie? More than anything. And have done so for a long time?’ She swallowed. ‘It can last?’

Simon looked at her with a great deal of compassion. ‘Yes. Why do you ask?