‘Is no problem,’ he said as he took my bag, then indicated that I should follow him out to the car park. ‘Flights always late, early, cancelled. I have phone app that tells me what’s happening.’

He led me to a black Mercedes and soon we were on our way, speeding past Milan and up to the lake area.

‘Drive take hour and a half, maybe longer, maybe not so long, you relax,’ he said.

After the commotion of the day so far, I felt exhausted, and put my head back on the leather seat. My phone pinged a message. I glanced at the screen expecting to see a text from Marcia or Heather wishing me well but no, it was from Kevin. I groaned.

If you ever change your mind and allegiance, it said. With love and hope to see you soon, your snake charmer man, Kevin.

Oh no, I thought, please, please don’t let it be you. I dismissed the image of him being there waiting for me. In my gut, I knew it wouldn’t be. From our brief encounters, I knew enough about him to know a hotel in the Italian lakes was not his style at all. Please, please let it be the one I hope for, I thought as our journey continued and I fell into a light doze.

When I awoke and looked out of the window, the scenery had changed from urban to scenic, with mountains to the left, glimpses of a lake behind shuttered villas and cypress trees to our right. I glanced at my watch. It was early evening and I was late. My stomach knotted in anticipation when I saw a sign for Bellagio and I tried to focus on the stunning scenery and put all thoughts and questions out of my mind.

‘Almost there, signora,’ said Fabio as he reduced his speed and we drove into a picturesque village with cobbled lanes, lined with centuries-old honey-coloured buildings with balconies displaying red geraniums. Nearer the water were cafés, restaurants and shops, and we moved on through a square, past a church with a bell tower. ‘This is Bellagio, known as the pearl of the lake. Is first time here?’

‘It is. It looks very charming and elegant.’

‘I think you will like and there is Grand Hotel Villa Serbelloni.’ Ahead of us, on a slope on the edge of the promontory, was a palatial-looking building with a red tiled roof. Fabio turned into a lane lined with cypress trees and stopped outside the hotel. After he had got out my bags, I tried to give him some money as a tip, but he refused to take it. ‘No money. Is taken care of. Ciao.’