‘Thank you, Lila,’ Daniel says before sniffing to try to clear his nose.

‘Don’t thank me,’ I tell him. ‘I’m doing this because I feel sorry for you.’

‘You’re a good woman,’ he replies. ‘The best I know.’

‘What about Eva?’ I ask as we walk down the path towards the villa.

‘I told her to get lost,’ he says. ‘We had this huge row and she said she didn’t think I was over you, and I realised I wasn’t. She was upset, she was angry. She said she wasn’t willing to share me with anyone so I told her to go home.’

Daniel stops in his tracks so I stop too. It’s too hot to stand still right now and it makes me impatient.

‘Am I supposed to care that you sent her home?’ I ask. ‘Because, honestly, I don’t care any more. I hope the two of you are really happy together.’

Oh, my God, I really mean it. No brave face, no one-upping. I really don’t care.

‘When we were going behind your back, we’d spend a few hours together, here and there,’ he starts but I don’t let him finish.

‘Oi, I might not care, but you can spare me those details,’ I say.

‘No, listen,’ he insists, taking me by the hands. ‘It was fun and exciting and I thought she made me happy. But being with her on this holiday, with her around me day and night, oh, my God, she’s been driving me mad. She’s so vapid and stupid.’

I weirdly feel sorry for her but he’s not exactly wrong. What he’s saying, in a rather hurtful way (the way I was talking about her, when I was at my most upset) is that they’re not on the same wavelength. They don’t share interests. She won’t talk about politics with him or sit around doing nothing while football is on. I don’t suppose, while they were having their dirty little affair, she had to put up with him screaming at a football match whilst intermittently ranting about Brexit. Similarly, he won’t have had to put up with her talking about her beauty vlogging work – I doubt Daniel even knows what an S-curl is, but during one particularly boring conversation, I once listened to Eva talk about the ‘art form’ for twenty minutes.

I can’t say I’m shocked to learn that a couple who had an affair actually have nothing in common other than sex, and it just makes me all the more angry that he threw our relationship away for it.

But not that angry. Not any more. I’m angrier that he’s taken me away from Freddie.

‘Well, I’m sorry to hear that,’ I tell him. ‘Maybe, once you get back home, you can work it out.’

I tune out a little, perhaps because I’m thinking about Freddie or because it’s just so damn hot out here.

‘About that,’ he says with a snivel. ‘I was thinking me and you could work things out.’