‘Do you have a family, Mario?’ She tried to smile at him and saw his face change in an instant, his eyes becoming dark.

He did not answer her, but concentrated for a moment on pouring wine into their glasses. ‘You do not know my story, then?’ he said.

Lottie shook her head, regretting that she had brought up what was evidently a harrowing choice of subject.

‘I was married, yes. I had a wife and a daughter. At that time I owned a restaurant in Cape Town. My girl was just starting college, and Angela was taking her to meet the tutor at the university. It was an open day, for parents of the new students. I could not go with them. There was a big wedding and the restaurant was very busy. It was important, or so I thought. And then the police were at my door, telling me they were dead.’

Lottie made a small exclamation and leaned forward to put her hand over his.

‘In those few minutes, my future died too, crushed like the car they were travelling in. He was drunk, the lorry driver. There was nothing Angela could have done to avoid him. The only mercy was that they were both killed instantly. No suffering. But one does not know what their thoughts were in those last seconds. I kept imagining them, seeing that juggernaut filling the windscreen, knowing they could not escape. I had to identify them. She was unrecognisable, Angela. Her face was . . .’ He stopped. ‘But Paola – her injuries were internal. She still looked so perfect, a beautiful girl at the beginning of her adult life.’ He was gazing into the past. ‘They called out to me as they were leaving the restaurant that morning. I was checking the menus, and I can’t remember what I said. My last words to them, and I still do not remember what they were.’

‘Mario,’ Lottie whispered, ‘I know how this is. I know.’

‘I have never told anyone that. About my last words to them. But I have said it to you, perhaps because you know about pain and endurance. And you are a beautiful woman, Carlotta. In every way.’ He looked at her. ‘I feel that I have known you a long time. So, tell me, do you want to talk about Jan?’

She found herself pouring out all the wretchedness of her life in Rhodesia, trying to describe with honesty what she felt about her husband as he sank into a morass of despair, grieving alone, with no thought for her or for their future.

‘Let us give ourselves some days of laughter while we are here,’ he said, when she had finished. ‘We will try to put our sadness behind us just for a while. What do you say?’

‘I think it’s the best idea I’ve heard in a very long time,’ Lottie said.