‘I didn’t think this would be your style,’ she said, gesturing at the house behind them.

‘Neither did I,’ he said, ‘but this crazy English woman put some sort of spell on me and now I can’t help looking at these draughty old English houses and thinking that they’re kinda cosy.’

Jules grinned. ‘I told you so,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘So you’re top floor?’

‘Of course. Best views.’ He lowered his voice. ‘I like the sound of you being underneath me,’ he added huskily, dipping his head so only she could hear.

‘Shall we go in?’ Laurie asked, still one eye on his phone as he opened the gate.

Jules and Paul looked at the neat garden and the large bay windows. Jules noticed crocuses, impatient for spring, pushing up through the soil, and felt this was a good omen. Paul kept looking up at the house and then back at Jules.

‘Actually, I think we’ve got this.’ He held a hand out to Jules.

‘Are you sure?’ she said as she took it, tiny jolts of electricity fizzing between them as their skin touched.

‘Sure I’m sure,’ he said.

He turned towards Laurie. ‘I’m sorry we wasted your time, man. Could you pass on a message to Daniella, please? Ask her to tell dear old Mr Legg we’re out, will you?’ He squeezed Jules’s hand. ‘Shall we?’

Together they turned and began walking back home.

18

One Year After Paris

The Amalfi Coast, Italy

‘Everyone say “formaggio!”’ instructed the photographer, looking in the viewfinder and back up at the group. The balcony of Villa Cimbrone’s terrazza dell’infinito curved behind them, sun-bleached terracotta, framing them either side with sprays of magenta petunias and pale stone busts, weathered by centuries of sun and wind, witnesses to love.

‘Formaggio!’ shouted Nina, Alice and Jules, grins wide across their faces, the colours of their dresses – brilliant yellow, purples and pinks, white and green – a striking contrast to the deep blues of the sea and sky behind them.

‘One more time!’

‘Formaggio!’

Luca lunged forward as Ezra, his and Kai’s newly adopted toddler, wriggled free from his grasp. He scooped him up, tickling him under his chin, and Ezra’s chuckles reverberated over the air. ‘Sorry!’ Luca called.

‘Let’s try again! No eyes closed this time… Uno, due, tre…’

‘Formaggio!’ they chorused, Wilf and Phoebe eliciting a chorus of ‘ah’s with their pronunciation: madge-ee-oh! Delighted with this response, Wilf began to run round in circles excitedly. ‘Madge-ee-oh! Madge-ee-oh!’ he chanted, only running and shouting louder when Alice and Nate tried to calm him down. They exchanged glances as Charlotte observed shrewdly, ‘I think he might have ADHD, like me.’

Nate and Alice laughed. Nate was wearing navy chinos and a white shirt, Alice a midi dress in tiers of colour: violet and hot pink, fading to lilac and blush.

‘What?’ Charlotte asked.

‘Nothing,’ Alice said, ruffling her hair, which hung in loose waves. She was allowed to touch it now. Each month that Charlotte was home-schooled brought a reduction in her anxiety-driven meltdowns. A new person was emerging, a different future.