‘There’s a lot I’m seeing that reminds me of the South of France in particular. Places in Provence, in Nice, Cannes. And some details remind me of Venice – like parts of this church. The dome reminds me of St Marco’s Basilica.’

‘You’ve been to a lot of places,’ he said without a trace of envy in his tone.

‘I have. I think I might have said this to you before, but if I stand still too long, I feel like I have to go. I get antsy. And going somewhere new – like here, Syros – that will scratch the itch. But, I know I’m lucky to have been to a lot of places.’

‘It’s not really luck, though is it? You work hard, you seek out opportunities, and then you make them happen.’

‘I suppose. In a way, yes.’

‘When you were a tour guide—’

‘Tour manager,’ I corrected.

‘Sorry, tour manager – did they knock on your door one night and say, “Hey, do you want to tour Europe? We’ll pay you,” or did you see the opportunity and then make the whole thing happen?’

He was right. It wasn’t some grand reveal or anything. I had worked hard for my successes and to be able to travel as much as I did. But, when he called out the whole ‘I’m so lucky’ thing, I saw myself through his fresh eyes, and I realised I wasn’t lucky as much as I was intrepid.

‘That’s a good reminder. Thanks.’ I needed to get off the topic of me. ‘Hey, so is this close to where you were last night?’

Josh scanned the rounded tops of the hills. He squinted a little and then pointed. ‘It was somewhere up there. If you remember from the photo, I was looking down on the church, and it was to my left.’

‘Oh yeah – the blue of the dome was almost inky.’

He smiled at me. ‘Nicely put.’ He turned back towards the hills and asked, ‘Do you want to head up?’

I did not. I wanted to sit down, and I wanted a beverage – probably an alcoholic one.

‘I take it from your scrunched-up nose that’s a no.’

‘You take it right. I may never come back here, and I know I should climb to the highest point on the island, but I can’t be stuffed.’

He threw back his head and laughed. I joined in. ‘See? All that stuff about me being adventurous and hardworking, and now you learn the truth – sometimes I’m a lazy bugger.’

‘So, you’re a bugger too, then?’

I didn’t know what he meant. ‘Huh?’

‘I’m a cheeky bugger, and you’re a lazy bugger – those are your words, not mine!’

‘Ohhh, yes. Well, that’s true then. We’re both buggers.’

Our dog was where we left her, but we’d apparently been gone too long, and she was curled up asleep.