She glances up at me, and I know she remembers what happened at the festival. I’m about to say something, when the engines start up, and the doors are slammed. A whistle blows, and there’s a lurch. Then we’re off. I lean over and place a hand on her bare knee, and she lets me, just for a moment, before shrugging me off and standing up, turning away so I can’t see her face.

‘Carrie…’

‘We’re not talking about this right now. I’m getting a pack of cards out and I’m heading down to the first-class lounge car, see what’s what. It’s a shame that Steve and Marion aren’t on this train. They’ll be in Moscow now. Be good to catch up when we get there.’

‘I didn’t really speak to them.’

‘No. I know. But we’ll contact them when we get to Moscow, arrange a night out. They’ll have a head start so they can tell us the best places to go. I think they were doing a river cruise, but then they were coming back. We looked at the dates. They’ll be there when we arrive. I made a mad plan, just in case we don’t manage to email or whatever. Outside Lenin’s tomb in Red Square – Tuesday at midday.’ She pulls more things out of her bag, tossing them on the bed. ‘I can’t find those damned cards!’ She picks up the bag of sandwiches and water from Geriel and dumps it on the table. ‘We should’ve brought some supplies. Proper supplies. Vodka. Crisps…’

I stand up, and I watch as she freezes, sensing me behind her. She doesn’t turn around. I take a step closer. Lay a hand on her arm. Then I turn her around to face me, and put both of my arms around her, resting my head on her shoulder. She stiffens. Then her shoulders drop, and she puts her arms around me, and I take the opportunity to pull her closer. ‘About what happened…’ she starts, but I shhh her, and keep her in my arms. She’s warm, her body toned, yet soft. I long to be close to her again. I didn’t expect any of this, but it doesn’t mean I don’t want it.

‘Just relax, Carrie,’ I say. ‘We don’t need to talk about it now, but when we do, well … just know that whatever you want is fine with me. If you want to forget it—’

She cuts me off, her voice is a whisper. ‘I can’t forget it. I want to … it’s not. It’s not something I’ve done. Not something I ever thought I wanted to do.’