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.

‘Hey, it’s not just about the music, is it?’ Ali asked, a little later, and Dan said, ‘No, but it might be just about the sex.’ They laughed, and Ali thought, I do love this man; I love the very bones of him.

‘What happened to the band?’ she asked. ‘What happened to the Union?’

‘Didn’t make it,’ Dan said. ‘Nick Lowe showed an interest, but then he didn’t.’

‘Were you gutted?’

‘I was long gone by then,’ he said. In fact, he never went back after she disappeared, never went to another rehearsal, but he didn’t mention that now. He pushed her gently backwards until she was lying down, then he hung over her, scanning her face, and said, ‘Alison Connor.’

‘Daniel Lawrence.’

‘Look at you.’

‘What?’ she said, smiling, knowing where this was going.