As luck would have it, Jeanie was already down in the hotel reception when Harry made his entrance that evening. After a few quiet days, lying low about the place, she was waiting at the desk in order to let Bernardo, the manager, know that she planned to leave Madeira on the Sunday flight. It was finally time to go home, she had decided, and face the music. Pop the bubble and return to real life, tail between her legs. If Bernardo ever got off the phone, that was. He put a hand up to indicate he had noticed her standing there, and made an apologetic just-a-moment sort of a face, but didn’t seem in any hurry to wind up the call.

Jeanie leaned against the cool marble counter, listening to Bernardo’s acquiescent, polite voice, hearing the sound of the lift bell ding-dinging as it reached the ground floor and the tinkling of the ornate fountain that splashed behind her. Her mind drifted to thoughts of dinner later on – perhaps she would brave it down to the restaurant tonight, rather than hiding away in her room again; exchange a brisk please-don’t-talk-to-me smile with Luis, to show that she was over the experience and not looking to repeat it, and then tuck into a pleasant meal, gazing out at the sunset, knowing that the countdown to her departure had begun.

All of this was going through her head as she stood and waited; and afterwards she couldn’t have told you what prompted her to turn round at that precise moment – some sixth sense perhaps, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end – but turn she did, just in time to see Harry, her Harry, striding through the main doors.

Her breath caught in her throat and she blinked twice, quite overcome at the sight of him there in the hotel. For a moment, she thought she must be imagining things – that he was some kind of mirage, with his wheely suitcase and that rather battered Panama hat he liked to wear in warmer countries, the one she’d always teased him about. But no, it was really him – as tall and straight-backed as ever, glancing around for a single moment, before orienting himself and striding towards the reception desk. Towards her.

‘Harry!’ she cried joyfully, making a beeline for him, her shoes clacking as she crossed the floor. ‘Oh, Harry!’

He saw her and his face changed from trepidation to relief, all the way into a smile. ‘Hello there, stranger!’ he cried as she rushed up to him, and then his arms were around her, tight and strong, and there was the most enormous lump in her throat. ‘Jeanie,’ he said, sounding every bit as emotional as she felt. It was the longest time they’d been apart in fifty years and she was only just realizing now how much she had missed him. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.