‘You had to spoil it.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Your speech. I heard you say that you are the man who loves me. But then you had to spoil it. You had to say that there is nothing special about this love of yours. That it is just the same as the love of every man who sees me on the screen. That is why I do not care what you think any more.’

‘I see.’

‘No, Inspector. You do not see at all. You are a very stupid man.’

‘I hope you will be very happy with Herr Hartmann. I trust that you will be.’

‘I did not say that I’ve accepted his proposal.’

Quinn frowned. He was not sure what he was meant to make of this information. Was it presumptuous to believe that she hoped it would be of interest to him? Did he have a right to be interested in her marital intentions?

He breathed in the ward’s antiseptic aroma, overlaid with the more unruly, organic odour of the flowers. ‘I hope that you will be happy, whatever decision you make.’

‘A very stupid man.’

‘You’re quite right.’

As he turned to leave, he heard a groan of impatience from her bed. Then an agitated rustle and a muted whipping sound, as if something soft had been hurled against a hard surface. Glancing back, he saw the flowers he had just given her scattered on the floor.

He could only assume that she did not like daisies.