‘It’s over there.’ Ellis pointed, switching benches so he was sitting next to her now with his left arm casually slung along the panel behind her shoulders. ‘It looks like a celebration of some kind.’ Grace followed the direction of his pointed finger and saw a trio of men standing on a deck on the other side of the water, and then realised the boat was heading towards them.

‘Ah, it’s a birthday party. See there.’ She pointed at a big balloon tied to a metal handrail on a length of red ribbon. ‘How gorgeous, to have your birthday party somewhere as magical as this.’

‘I’m glad you think so. Happy birthday, Grace.’

She swivelled her head to face him.

‘What do you mean?’ she asked, incredulous, before looking again at the musicians, and then upwards to where there was a sign on the brickwork above them. Mario’s Ristorante. Was this what she thought it was? A surprise birthday meal for her?

‘Come on, you’ll see.’ As they came to a halt, Ellis stood up; after heaving her suitcase from the boat, he offered her his hand and helped her over the side and onto the wooden deck at the entrance to the restaurant.

‘I thought you might be hungry after your journey, and this place serves the best pasta in the whole of Venice. Plus Aunty Betty will never forgive me if I don’t make sure you are fed and watered well. She was very insistent that I look after you properly … you know how she is,’ he shrugged and grinned.

‘Sono arrivati,’ one of the musicians yelled over his shoulder, cueing much frenetic arm-waving from an older, plump man with slicked-back thinning hair wearing a white shirt and black trousers who appeared as if from nowhere and came bustling towards them.

‘They’ve arrived,’ Ellis quickly translated in a hushed voice, leaning his head sideways into hers before taking the man’s outstretched hand. ‘Grace, this is Mario, he’s one of my clients.’