Milton picked up his spoon and took a mouthful. It was delicious; he had been expecting the milk to be chilled, but it was at ambient temperature and the nutty-tasting rice was slightly al dente.

“This is good,” Milton said through a mouthful of rice. Sakura nodded in agreement, and a few moments later, all three bowls were empty.

“More coffee?” Jean-Michel asked again, putting the bowls back onto the tray.

Victoria playfully slapped her husband on the arm. “There’s a coffee machine in the kitchen if you’d rather something less authentic.”

“That would be good,” Milton said.

Jean-Michel collected the tray and made his way back to the kitchen.

“What’s your plan for today?” Victoria asked.

“I was just talking about that with Sakura. I need to have a think.”

“Take as long as you need,” she said. “The villa is free until next week. You can have it until then.”

“Thank you,” Sakura said. She stood. “I’m still feeling a little tired. I might go and lie down if that’s okay.”

“Call reception if you need anything.”

“I will. Thanks again.”

They waited as she made her way through the restaurant and out of sight.

“She’s a looker,” Victoria said.

“If you say so,” Milton conceded.

“And?”

Milton smiled and shook his head. “Not a good idea.”

“What are you? A monk?”

“No, but something like that is the last thing she needs at the moment.”

She held his eye and, for a moment, it was as if they were back in London a decade ago. Milton knew that Victoria had been keen on him from the moment he asked her whether she would like to go for a coffee after her first meeting. He had been attracted to her, too, but believed—at least he told himself—that he was acting with the best intentions in suggesting they share a drink. He had recognised that she was white-knuckling her recovery, holding on for dear life, and he hated the thought that the positive step of attending her first meeting would not be enough to hold back the tide of shame that would carry her straight to the nearest pub. He had been in a similar position, too, and not that long before. He recalled it: the meetings felt alien, progress was imperceptible, and the bottle called. He had wanted to offer her encouragement that things could change if she kept coming back. That a sexual relationship had followed so quickly afterwards was not something of which he was proud, but it didn’t mean that he regretted it, either.

The moment passed. Victoria leaned back. “What about you? What are you going to do?”

“I could do with a meeting,” he said.

“There’s a good one at eleven.”

“My head’s in a bit of a spin.”

“Because of her?”

“Not really. Maybe. I don’t know.” He exhaled deeply. “Whatever. It usually helps me relax.”