‘No.’ The cigar glowed brightly as he drew on it. ‘He was a very modest man. I would imagine that you know London quite well now?’

‘Quite. Not so well … it is large.’

‘Ah yes … Before the war I was there often, ’37, ’38. The Café de Paris! Ah what happy times one had there. Very “snob”, most chic. Do you know this place, it is not so far from Leicester Square, I remember?’

‘I don’t know; it is possible.’

‘Such elegance, I recall. You know,’ he lowered his voice confidentially, ‘there is a strange thing I can tell you. We bombed it, did you know that? Very terrible indeed. But they rebuilt it after the war, I am told, which made me feel not so unhappy, because you see, and this is most extraordinary , I was over London that very night! Can you imagine such a coincidence? When we all heard the news that it had been hit we were most deeply shocked. It had a glass roof and no one knew about that.’

‘I don’t know if it is still there, I’m sorry.’ She handed him back the balloon.

‘Yes, it is still there. I have been assured. But a different class of people go there now, working people, the middle class, the people who jumped up after the war everywhere, even here I am sad to say. But everything has changed now, nothing is as it was before; is it? But how could you remember? A lucky girl … so young and so much time ahead. But it was a wonderful time. Then was really fine.’

‘And it worries you that perhaps you dropped your bombs on that place?’