The next day, Grace felt remarkably renewed and full of vigour after possibly the best night’s sleep ever. And it was absolute bliss not having to get up in the night to see to Cora every twenty minutes. Long may it continue when she returned home. Having had the foresight to pack her trainers, Grace had actually gone for a run, something she hadn’t felt like doing, or indeed had the energy for, in ages. She had run all along the Santa Margherita promenade as the sun had been peeping over the tips of the lush green, pine-tree-clad cliffs, and it had been amazing, making her feel joyous and euphoric and like absolutely everything was possible. She knew it sounded cheesy, but she really did feel brand new, and that she could be whoever she wanted to be here in Italy where nobody, apart from Ellis, knew her or anything about her. If there was a way to bottle the feeling so she could keep hold of it when she got back to London, then she was determined to find the recipe for what felt like a magic potion.

After the run she had gone back to the hotel to shower and meet Ellis, and so it was now almost midday by the time they had hiked all the way up the tiny, winding mountain roads to reach Via Arancia. They had thought it would be a nice way to see more of Santa Margherita and of course the breathtaking view of the Riviera, away from the promenade and the tourists, but they hadn’t anticipated quite how far it would be. And Grace now wished that she had eaten more for breakfast. Even though it was delicious – hot coffee with a big bag of cornetti which they had torn apart and eaten slathered with deliciously salty butter and locally made peach jam that she had bought to share with Ellis from a little bakery she’d discovered near the harbour. They had sat on the balcony of their adjoining bedrooms and gazed wistfully at the tranquil vista, content in each other’s company. Ellis had asked if she was OK after their heart-to-heart last night and she had told him yes, and that he had helped her far more than he would ever know.

‘Look, there’s a single-track road over there,’ Ellis said, pointing behind a tree to an opening. They could see a small field with what looked like an abandoned white stone hut in one corner surrounded by long grass.

‘Shall we take a look?’ Grace asked, flapping the hem of her T-shirt around in a desperate attempt to create a breeze, for it was roasting hot up in the mountains, especially in the clearing without the shade from the pine trees.

‘Sure,’ Ellis said, walking on, and then, ‘Grace, come and take a look at this,’ he added, excitedly, over his shoulder, ‘I think I can see the powder pink villa up ahead.’