The children scream and run to the front door, shouting, ‘Uncle Nick! Uncle Nick!’

‘How many Toblerones do you think he’ll have bought them in Duty Free?’ says Bethany, as she strolls after the children.

Theo and Lotte fight over who gets to open the door. Theo lets Lotte win, and the children tumble out. Amy takes a long draught of her drink and bangs on the kitchen window. Chloe, who’s been lying on a sun-lounger by the pool, takes off her headphones.

‘Is Nick here?’

Amy nods, and Chloe follows her outside. She shields her eyes from the sun’s blaze as she steps into the heat. The sea and the sky have melded into one hazy blue line; a solitary cloud hangs in the sky. The driver is already popping the boot of the dusty car, as Nick shoulders his satchel and holds out his arms. His T-shirt is rumpled and sweat-stained and he looks awkward and embarrassed. She’s not sure why, although maybe it’s because he’s hot, tired and late again. Nick crushes the children together in a giant hug and lifts Lotte over his head. She screams and kicks her legs.

He puts her down and says, ‘Surprise!’

Her father steps out of the car.

Amy reels back as if she’s been physically punched in the chest. Nick tries to walk towards her, but the children cling to him. She puts her hand out and grips Matt’s arm. He’s damp with sweat and her fingers slide down his tensed muscles. She doesn’t know whether she’s holding onto her husband for support or she’s holding him back, the way you might restrain a dog that’s pulling at the leash. The throb of the cicadas is an angry buzz in her ears. She’s dimly aware of Luca and Joe hovering behind them. They are all still, for what feels like a long moment.

‘Jesus, Nick,’ says Bethany and folds her arms across her chest.

The driver heaves her dad’s case out and looks puzzled. He shrugs, as if he always knew Brits were odd, standing around instead of embracing. He closes the car doors and reverses at speed back down the track until he has enough room to turn, stones spitting from the wheels.

‘What the hell—’ Matt starts, but the children suddenly realize who it is.

They interrupt, both yelling, ‘Granddad!’, and fling themselves at him. He hugs them awkwardly and rubs their hair. Nick pulls a bumper pack of Skittles out of his bag and rattles it.

‘I could do with a cold beer,’ he says, patting his father on the shoulders.

‘It’s wonderful,’ her dad says, taking in the olive groves, the sweep of the sea, the curve of the cliff edge below them. ‘Thank you for inviting me.’

Matt grinds his teeth together. ‘You have a bl… a nerve, bringing him here.’

‘What’s a nerve?’ asks Lotte.