Lottie smiled at him, conscious for the first time in years of being admired for herself. She was filled with the pleasure of the music, and the sound of laughter and Italian voices. And the sensation of Mario still holding her fingers. She glanced around to see Sergio watching her closely, and snatched away her hand in confusion. As she prepared for bed, she was shocked to find herself wondering what it would be like if Mario kissed her, and she told herself that she was a crazy, middle-aged woman fantasising about a handsome stranger. But for one evening she had been able to rise above the quagmire of anguish and drudgery and loneliness that her life had become. She had been allowed a Cinderella moment as a carefree individual with no responsibilities, no tragic memories, no fears. It was a natural reaction. She had found Mario a wildly attractive contrast to the melancholy alcoholic that her husband had become and she did not need to feel ashamed. In a week or two she would be back in the bleak, dry rustlings of the tobacco fields and all would be the same once more. Lottie wondered if he had a wife, and if so where she had been tonight. She slept late next morning, something she had not done for years. Elena and Sergio had left for the restaurant when she got up. The maid knocked on her bedroom door as she was contemplating a morning’s relaxation in the garden.

‘A gentleman is on the phone for you, Madam,’ she said.

Lottie’s heart sank. It would be Jan, back from wherever he had gone with Kobus and furious that she had gone to Johannesburg, leaving only a terse note and his air ticket lying on the kitchen table. He was the only one who knew she was here. She braced herself to speak to him.

‘Carlotta? This is Mario.’

Her breath was coming very fast. She felt foolishly self-conscious. ‘Mario? I’m afraid Sergio and Elena aren’t here. They went early to the restaurant.’

‘I know. I spoke to them already. I was trying to organise lunch for all of us, but they are too busy. So I thought you might like to join me. Unless you have something else arranged?’

‘No. No – that is, yes. Well, I don’t know. I was going to the restaurant around lunchtime, to see if I could help. But I might only be in the way and—’ She felt ridiculous.

‘Then why don’t we find a pleasant place for lunch?’

He drove her to a small hotel with a flower-filled terrace where they sat outside in the sunshine, drinking wine. She told him about Langani and the unbearable loss of her son, and Hannah’s frightening determination to stay on. There were tears starring her eyes, and his expression was one of such sadness that she felt it was beyond normal compassion.