‘Age-appropriate men just aren’t what they used to be,’ I tease.

I look down at my drink, and think about Freddie. His porn star martinis really are something else; none of the ones made by the actual staff even come close. That’s Freddie, though, multi-talented. Listen to me, talking about him as if I know him.

I decided to have pasta tonight, seeing as I had pizza last night, and I didn’t want to seem too predictable – I am, after all, drinking the exact same drinks and eating the same starter.

After a deliciously creamy spaghetti carbonara – which by some miracle I didn’t spill down my dress – I thought I might be too full for dessert, but Ali talked me into sharing cannoli with her. I’ve had cannoli back home, but nothing compares to having it in Italy; there’s just something authentic about it. Sweet ricotta cheese in a crisp pastry shell – Ali suggested we eat an end each, like Lady and the Tramp, purely for theatrics, she reassured me. I told her that I was pretty sure the barman was firmly convinced we were a couple – purely because we’re on holiday, in the most romantic place on earth, together.

After a few more cocktails we decide to make our way home, back up the hill, which Ali isn’t happy about.

‘This is cardio,’ she moans. ‘You’re tricking me into doing cardio on holiday.’

‘We need it,’ I point out. ‘After everything we just ate.’

‘And drank,’ Ali adds, hiccupping right on cue.

We stop to take a breath at the viewing point that looks out over the populated part of the island. All the buildings – the villas, restaurants and shops –sit at different levels, which looks impossibly cute. You can just about make out the beach, down at the bottom. I haven’t been yet, but tonight it looks alive with lights and people and music. I can hear fun in the air and that’s where it’s coming from.

‘We’ll have to check that out tomorrow,’ I suggest.

‘You not seeing Freddie tomorrow?’ she says flirtatiously.

‘You’re obsessed with him,’ I reply. ‘Why don’t the three of us go? Then you can spend more time with him.’

‘OK, sure,’ she replies. ‘We’ll spend the day with him, so I can spend more time with him.’

I don’t think my friend believes that I’m not interested in him, but I’m not. He’s an incredible-looking man with a big heart, but we are apples and oranges. Freddie is like a Ferrari – a beautiful car, but could I drive in it to the Co-op for milk? Would I be happy leaving it parked, unattended, or would I constantly be worried someone was going to bump it or steal it? And then there’s the fact that I couldn’t afford a Ferrari…

‘Right, get me to bed,’ Ali insists.

Finally outside the villa, I can just about make out two people sitting on the leafy, green veranda. I watch as they clink their wine glasses together. They haven’t noticed us, and Ali hasn’t noticed them. If I could think of a way to get inside, without them seeing, or without Ali seeing them…