‘I had gone to Budapest on business, but when the company I was doing business with suggested that I stay on for three days and enjoy the city, I thought, “Why not?” My wife had her own commitments, and she agreed that it would be good for me to relax for a few days.

“We’ll fix you up with a guide who’ll show you everything,” they said.

With meetings out of the way, I sat in the hotel lobby and waited for my guide. I didn’t speak the language, and hadn’t had time to swot up, so a guide seemed a great idea.

She was tall and slender, with a full-length leather coat that looked old-fashioned, but was probably the height of chic there. Her hair was long and dark, her face had dramatic features and her eyes were warm and brown. “I am Marya,” she said, shaking my hand.

She took me to a car and introduced me to her driver, Joseph. He was tall, dark and silent, but with a benign smile.

“They told me I have to show you the sights,” she said in perfect English.

She spoke a few words to Joseph and we were off. It was the start of a hectic round of treats. We would do the tourist things in the day, she said, and for the next couple of evenings she would take me to some interesting bars and restaurants.

She led me up Castle Hill and we looked at the sun shining on the Danube as she told me the history of her country. She spoke with passion and humour.

She showed me the Szechenyi baths, the Hotel Gellert, Heroes’ Square ... everything. I told her about my wife and kids, and she told me about her husband and her plans to have children.

We did more sightseeing on the third day, but increasingly it was just enjoyable to sit in cafes and talk with Marya. “It’s your last night here tonight,” she said. “So I have a surprise for you – from me.” The surprise was that she had tickets for the opera. “Sounds wonderful,” I said. “It will be,” she smiled.

Marya arrived at my hotel wearing a trouser suit that accentuated her willowy body. I had dressed up too, and there was something dreamlike as we sat in the back of the car, with Joseph, as ever, at the wheel.

The opera house was stunning and the music was even more so. Pure passion. And, when it was over, Marya had one more surprise – she had booked a table at a restaurant next door, where singing waiters, a singing manager and even singing diners all did their operatic party pieces.

It was tremendously romantic, and I found myself telling her how much I was truly going to miss her. “I’ll miss you too,” she said.

Afterwards, we drove back to my hotel. As we got out of the car, she turned and said something to Joseph, who nodded and drove off.

“Does this mean I can kiss you goodnight?” I asked.

“Yes,” said Marya, her beautiful brown eyes smiling.

“What did you tell Joseph?” “That we needed to discuss your travel arrangements – for one hour.”

That one magical, illicit hour in my hotel room now seems as though it could never have happened. And, as we were both married, it certainly shouldn’t have done.’

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