Then Sheila started up again, a little impatiently, and decisively, as if she’d waited long enough for him to speak and would wait no longer. ‘Two things in life you need to remember,’ she said. ‘One: follow your heart. Two: if you ever hurt her, I’ll have your guts for garters.’

‘I never will hurt her,’ Dan said.

‘And will you follow your heart?’

He gave a small shrug, a rueful smile. ‘I’ll give it a go.’

‘And Katelin, is she the enlightened type? Will she understand?’

‘Ah,’ Dan said. ‘No, Katelin will be fucking furious,’ and this made Sheila howl with laughter, and the sound brought Dora and Ali out of the house to join them. Dora wedged herself tightly into the swing seat next to Sheila; Ali sat down on the low wall with Dan. He put an arm around her.

‘Sheila rates me,’ he said, very quietly, into her ear.

‘Dora does too,’ Ali said. ‘And I do, I rate you very highly, so it looks as if you’re all the go.’

They smiled at each other, but then his expression altered and he said, ‘Look, we need to talk,’ and she understood his tone at once, stood up again and held out her hand. Sheila and Dora looked at them enquiringly, but without offering an explanation the pair walked into the house and went upstairs.

Big subjects: love, trust and loyalty. Big subjects, thorny subjects, although there was a time when Ali thought them unnegotiable; a deal was a deal: she could’ve had these words engraved around the inside of her wedding ring, or above the door at the McCormack mansion, translated into Latin. Margaret McCormack raised her boys to put loyalty above all other virtues, despite – or perhaps because of – their father’s philandering, and Ali, too, in the Italian summer of 1980, had married Michael with solemn promises and a commitment to throw in her lot with this likeable, generous boy from Adelaide. There were no fireworks for her, not even much of a spark, but she recognised in him the kind of dependability she believed she needed. That, plus his patent devotion, and a one-way ticket to Australia, where people went to start all over again. But today, sitting with Dan, talking about the future, she thought, Where are those values now? They were in pieces on the floor, because all she wanted was here in this room. She wanted him. She wanted him, and this wanting was simplicity itself.

They sat facing each other on the sleeping mat under the Tibetan prayer flags, and they clasped hands. I can’t let you go, he said. No, she said, don’t let me go, I need to be with you. These were their vows. They didn’t talk about how this might be managed, the faith they’d have to keep in each other during the coming storm, they only made a statement of mutual intent, knowing the road ahead would be long, and that sorrow as well as joy lay in whatever they chose to do.