Stefan put his right hand over hers, the one that gripped the line, and said, ‘Put your left hand up. Like this.’

She did as he asked, and he held his own hand up next to it. His was large, knotty and brown, hers small and pale. The low sun came through the webbing of their fingers.

‘Like two peas in a pod,’ he said.

Lena kept her hand up next to his for a moment longer, wondering what he wanted.

He put his hand back on his knee and kissed Lena’s cheek.

‘What?’

‘I think … Do you have a father at home?’

‘No,’ said Lena. ‘You’re my father.’

He laughed. ‘Was she never going to tell me?’

‘I think I’ve got a fish!’

‘Let’s have a look. Pull the line in gently and wind it round here. That’s it.’

There were in fact two small fish, pinkish-gold, attached to the sodden bread. Stefan removed the hook from the first and held it up.

‘What shall we do?’ he said. ‘Would you like fish for dinner? It’s a bit small, but we can catch a few more, I expect. You don’t look very sure about it.’

Lena flinched as she watched the un-hooking.

‘Is it still alive?’

‘I’ll say. It’s all I can do to hold on. Shall we put it back in the water?’

‘Will he be all right?’

‘Yes, he’ll be fine.’

He dropped both fish into the sea. ‘We’ll go after some mackerel if you like.’

Stefan threw away the sodden bread and took a different line onto which he tied a small red piece of tin, shaped like a fish, with a hook at one end. They sat together in the stern, with Lena holding the line as the sail filled again. It wasn’t long before she felt a wrench and was able to pull in a silver and blue fish that smacked the floor of the boat with its tail. This one they kept, and two others that followed. Stefan banged their heads on the deck to stop them thrashing, then put them in a basket while he and Lena ate their bread and cheese. After a couple of hours, Stefan turned the boat towards the harbour and Lena, tired out by the wind, rested her head against the oilskin of his shoulder.

On the way back to the via dei Fabbri, when it was starting to grow dark, they went into a café, where they drank tea and ate small, dry cakes. A few minutes later, they stopped outside the window of a fishing shop and Stefan pointed out the seashells on display amid the wooden models of sailing boats.

‘I need to buy a few things in here,’ he said. ‘Come and have a look inside.’

Stefan spoke to the shopkeeper, a man in brown overalls, who opened small boxes that he fetched from shelves behind the counter, while Lena looked at the models. It seemed to take Stefan a long time to find what he wanted. Eventually he came over to where Lena was peering at a lighthouse carved from wood and painted white.