‘Do you think there’s a hotel ghost?’ Norah had asked.

‘Do you believe in ghosts?’

Norah shrugged.

‘No. Do you?’

‘Not sure,’ said Alex. ‘But if I were a ghost, I’d definitely haunt this place.’

Norah laughed.

‘We ought to die in the Imperial,’ she said.

‘What, now?’

‘When we’re very, very old. We’ll take a room and die there. Then we’ll stay on and haunt the hotel.’

‘Great plan!’ said Alex. ‘I like it.’

It had been Alex’s idea to stay here, although it was way beyond their budget. He knew Norah loved places like the Imperial, not so much for their beauty or lavishness, but for the stories they held. He’d even managed to arrange a guided tour of the hotel, just for the two of them. A charming old man had shown them the grand reception rooms, then led them down a warren of stairs and passages to the underbelly of the hotel, where rooms opened off a spotless red-and-yellow tiled corridor. It was a mysterious in-between realm where the linen was stored, the staff fed, the famous Imperial gateaux baked. Down there, a kind of magic was worked to ensure that, a few floors up, the guests could lean back and forget their worries.

Norah returned to the present to see a woman standing in front of her, and a few seconds later she was following her along a corridor to the suite where the interviews were being held. A television crew passed them, laden with cameras and sound equipment, and Norah said good morning, feeling like an outsider. In Berlin she’d have known who was having an affair with whom, which of them would be up for a drink after work and which had to hurry home to their children. Now she’d left that small, cosy world behind her and was in a new world, full of strangers. Norah thought they looked stressed, but couldn’t have said why. Had the interview gone badly, or was there some other reason?

The door to the suite was closed, but Bernadette Schill, the press officer who had organised the interview for Norah, was waiting outside for her.

‘Good morning, Norah. It’s lovely that you could come.’

‘Thank you for arranging it.’

Bernadette was very conservatively dressed in a black suit and pearl necklace, but she had a naughty smile that made Norah like her at once. Here was someone she could talk to.

They shook hands, while the assistant hurried back to the lobby to welcome the next journalist. Interviews with Hollywood stars were always tightly packed, but Norah was glad to have a slot at all.

‘The ORF people are on their way,’ Bernadette said. ‘You’re next. It shouldn’t be long.’

‘Where am I on the list?’ Norah asked.

‘The seventh this morning, and the second-to-last before the break.’

‘Is he on his own?’ Norah asked.

Bernadette nodded. She glanced at her watch and seemed to hold back a sigh. The Hollywood star was evidently ruining her carefully planned schedule.