‘It is Ferragosto,’ she says. ‘Happen every year, a special holiday. Tomorrow evening everyone will be here. There is some food – all the specialities of the region, a festival to celebrate. Fireworks.’ She looks bored by the prospect.

Amy drops a couple of euros in the ashtray for tips next to the cash register. She wonders how she feels about this strange coincidence, the summer fete and Ruby-May’s anniversary occurring on the same day.

She’s about to take the ice cream to the children, when she turns back to the waitress and, on impulse, orders a shot of Frangelico. She tips it into her coffee and hands the girl the glass.

The waitress grins at her and fills it up again.

‘Offerte della casa,’ she says, and then adds, ‘Everything is closed tomorrow. Is a holiday. Nothing open, even the stazione di polizia is closed. I say you, in case no one remember to tell to you.’

‘Thank you,’ Amy says, grateful for her kindness.

‘Look! Can we go on that?’ asks Lotte, pointing towards a carousel with chairs dangling from it on long chains.

‘It’s not open until tomorrow evening, sweetheart,’ she says.

‘So can we come back? Please, please?’ Lotte is bouncing up and down on her chair with excitement.

She takes a breath, wondering how best to explain about the anniversary party, when she notices the writing in large letters above the carousel: Lasciate ogni speranza o voi che entrate. There’s a cartoonish skull and crossbones on either side of the phrase. She says it out loud, no doubt messing up the Italian pronunciation.

Amy bribes Lotte to be quiet with the promise of playing a game on her phone in a minute, and puts the phrase into Google translate. It comes up almost immediately. It’s from Dante’s The Divine Comedy: Abandon all hope, you who enter here.

‘Can I play a game now?’ asks Lotte, as soon as Amy puts her mobile down.

‘Yes – when you’ve finished your ice cream and wiped your sticky fingers.’

How am I going to tell them about the anniversary? She tousles Theo’s hair. Will they understand? Will they be upset? Perhaps she should leave it until tomorrow morning, so that they don’t have time to worry or think too much about their little sister.

‘I love ice cream,’ says Lotte suddenly.

She smiles. ‘I know.’

‘It reminds me of Ruby-May,’ she continues, as if her mother hadn’t spoken.

‘Yes, she loved ice cream too,’ Amy says, thinking that perhaps this is the perfect opportunity to talk about the anniversary.

‘That’s not why,’ says Lotte.

Theo shakes his head in agreement. ‘No one made anything to eat after Ruby-May died, so we got ice cream out of the freezer by ourselves and ate it straight from the tub.’

‘Chocolate…’ Lotte says, widening her eyes with delight. ‘And then vanilla…’

‘And then strawberry…’

‘Every day for a week!’