‘I can’t impose on you any further.’

‘My dear, you have no money or passport. If you don’t stay with us, just what are you going to do?’

‘It just seems dreadful for you to be burdened with me.’

‘But I shall love having you. We can talk about England. I love Italy, but I miss my own country, and you can tell me how things are there now.’

‘Ah, that’s different, if there’s something I can do for you.’

‘I look forward to you staying with us a long time. Now, I must get some sleep.’

She got into the lower bunk. Ferne climbed to the top one, and in a few minutes there was peace and darkness.

Ferne lay listening to the hum of the train speed through the night, trying to get her bearings. It seemed such a short time since she’d made the impulsive decision to leave England. Now she was here, destitute, reliant on strangers.

While she was pondering the strange path her life had taken recently, the rhythm of the train overtook her and she fell asleep.

She awoke to find herself desperately thirsty, and remembered that the snack bar was open all night. Quietly she climbed down and groped around in the darkness for her robe.

The three euros she’d found would just be enough for a drink. Holding her breath and trying not to waken Hope, she crept out into the corridor and made her way to the dining-car.

She was in luck. The snack bar was still open, although the tables were deserted and the attendant was nodding off.

‘I’ll have a bottle of mineral water, please,’ she said thankfully. ‘Oh dear, four euros. Do you have a small one?’

‘I’m afraid the last small bottle has gone,’ the attendant said apologetically.