The boat rocked as Stefan untied the mooring, gave it a shove with his foot and, just when Lena thought she might be going out to sea alone, jumped aboard. To begin with, he rowed, which was hard work for such a large boat; then when they were clear of obstacles, he pulled in the oars and hauled up a sail. Lena sat quite still where he had placed her, in the bows, watching the quick way he ran the ropes through his hands and tied them off. She could see the stones on the seabed in the shallow water.

Stefan sat at the other end of the boat, holding on to a long piece of wood attached to something under the surface that he moved from side to side.

‘You all right?’ he called out.

‘Yes.’

‘You can be the figurehead of my ship.’

Lena didn’t know what he meant, but nodded.

When they were out of the small harbour into the bay, the sail picked up more wind and they began to travel smoothly over the water, which had turned a blue-black, so Lena could no longer see the bottom. The wind pinched her cheeks and the top of her ears. She watched as Stefan ducked his head when the heavy piece of wood that held the lower edge of the sail swung across the boat.

She thought she ought to say something, but she couldn’t: she could only look with wide eyes at the water, the sail, the man in the stern and the city of Trieste, its streets and buildings losing their sharp edges as they blurred into the grey plateau that towered over it.

‘Now we’ll catch some dinner,’ said Stefan, slackening the sail as he moved up the boat and opened his canvas bag.

Lena watched as he threaded four hooks on a piece of line, then wound them round a piece of bread. Words suddenly came to her.

‘Is that all you do? To catch a fish?’ she said. ‘Don’t you have nets?’ She was thinking of a Bible illustration she had seen at school: the miraculous draught of fishes.

‘Not for this sort of fish. When I’ve cast it, you’re going to hold the line. Hold tight. Don’t let it go. It’s only good for a couple of casts and then the bread falls apart.’

He stood up in the boat and threw the bait out onto the water.

‘It’s a bit choppy,’ he said. ‘Let’s see what happens. Come down here and sit next to me so you can hold on.’

The end of the line was attached to a small piece of driftwood, which Lena held as she sat on the bench next to Stefan. He sat to windward and put his arm round her.

‘Can you feel anything? Any fish biting?’

‘Yes, I can feel something.’

‘It could just be the waves.’

Lena felt she had let him down. She was desperate to feel the tug of a real fish.