It was late when the door buzzed and no one else seemed to hear it. Someone had turned the speakers right up and David Bowie’s Suffragette City flooded the room. Sonja and Monique were dancing around the room, and Sophie was smoking out of the open window, the winter chill seeping into the room. Nina had her camera out and was snapping photos of them all in silly poses.

It buzzed again and Sylvia gestured to the door. ‘Wasn’t that the bell?’

‘Who the…?’ Evelyne got up, cigarette and wine glass in hand, and pressed the intercom. Sylvia saw the smile on her face fall away as she opened the flat door and went out onto the landing, waiting for her visitor.

Footsteps and a low male voice on the stairs. Whispers in fraught, pained Swiss German. And then Evelyne reappeared, a too bright smile on her face.

The man behind her was tall and broad, but with a youthful face that belied his imposing stature. The mass of dark hair that curled around his ears was so similar to Evelyne’s own unruly mop that Sylvia knew immediately this was a relative.

‘Regardez qui vient d’arriver!’ Evelyne said. Look who’s here.

‘Hey, what are you doing here?’ Sonja walked over and kissed the visitor, as did the others, before Evelyne grabbed his hand and dragged him over to her.

‘Sylvia, this is my baby brother, Daniel. Spontaneous visit at… ooh, midnight.’ She smiled, but there was something else behind it.

He shook Sylvia’s hand and sat down in Evelyne’s chair as she left them to fetch him a beer. Despite his youth he looked weary, eyes bloodshot.

‘Have you come a long way?’ Sylvia said.

‘From Betten.’ He said it as though she should know where that was, but she shook her head and he raised his eyebrows. ‘In the Valais. Where Evelyne and I are from.’ His French was curious: precise, singsong, clearly influenced by his native Swiss German.

‘Right. Sorry, I just met Evelyne today. I’m here from London to write about the MFL.’

‘Huh.’ He smiled at her, but his expression made her uneasy.

‘Are you a teacher too?’ Her eyes flicked to the kitchen, but she could see Evelyne still rooting around in the fridge.

‘Me? Oh no.’ His brief laugh was loaded with bitterness. ‘I’m a farmer. I only teach the farmhands how to milk a cow and mend a fence.’

Sylvia smiled. ‘That must be interesting.’

‘Fucking fascinating.’ He sat back in his chair and looked towards the open window. Smoke hung in the air, illuminated by the street light outside the apartment block.

‘I’m sorry, I thought… Well, I’m sure it’s a tough life but it must be—’