I tell myself to stop being so ridiculous – accusing everyone in my family, plus my sister’s personal trainer, of assault and battery – and jog over to Chloe. I mock bow and offer her my arm, as if I’m in a Jane Austen novel, and fortunately the sharks smile out of the sides of their mouths and my step-niece takes my elbow. I lead her back to the car and hug every member of my hot, sticky family. The ferry pulls away from the harbour, scattering seabirds in its wake. Sunlight winks from the cars on the deck. There’s a clear, sharp light on the horizon, blinding in its beauty.

I wipe my forehead as I enter the comforting chill of the hospital and help myself to the water in the cooler by reception.

Bethany is awake and sitting up in bed.

‘Nick!’ She frowns at me. ‘You look like shit.’

‘Thanks. Glad I stayed on to check you’re okay.’ I slump into a chair by her bed. ‘You’re looking a bit better. Listen, can you remember anything? Anything at all about what happened?’

She looks up to her left as she thinks. The white of her eye is still red, and the bruising round her eye is turning yellow.

‘I remember us arguing. I was so mad at you. I took that bottle of Prosecco from the fridge and marched up the hill. I saw Chloe and Carlo and I spoke to them briefly. I told her to leave that little jerk and get back home. She took it exceptionally well. I headed out to the cliff and I walked along there for a while. I watched the fireworks, and then I thought I ought to go back and face the music. I expected Amy would be angry at me for skipping Ruby-May’s anniversary, but I hoped I hadn’t missed all of it. I decided not to go back the way I’d come, though. I thought it would be quicker to head straight down the cliff path to the beach, the one along from il cavalluccio marino. I planned to walk along the sand and up the track to our holiday house. But I don’t remember that part.’

‘The police are going to drop the case. They say there’s no evidence that you were attacked. That you could have fallen and hit your head. Ruggieri says you were drunk.’

She closes her eyes for a moment and doesn’t say anything. I can’t tell if she’s angry or resigned.

‘Come on, Bee! I know you. You wouldn’t have drunk a whole bottle of Prosecco—’

She interrupts. ‘I told them I was drunk.’

‘What?’

‘The Carabinieri asked if it was a possibility, and I said it was more like a probability.’

I’m dumbstruck.

‘I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Plus I’d done all those sprints earlier. The alcohol would have gone straight to my head.’