And the afternoons Riccarda and I spent in a darkened room, on a low white bed nearly as big as the room it was in, playing, naked, for hours. Free with each other as we had never been before, like children. Tickling and nipping, wrestling, laughing, splashing white wine on each other’s skin and kissing it off. I had never known that kind of freedom, never been so aware of my body being so full of pleasurable places. Riccarda’s body was golden all over, and almost perfect; but she thought her firm breasts were too small for her hips. She had a slim waist and resembled a figurine when she was naked. ‘When you’re dressed,’ I told Riccarda, ‘you look like a queen. When you’re naked you are a goddess.’

Then the call came that broke our enchantment. Her son and her husband were arriving unexpectedly in Rome that evening. She had to leave Lilla’s place right away. I don’t know how they found out or what she had told them she was doing in Rome. Oh, yes, she was attending Lilla’s exhibition, that was true; she’d done the photographs for the catalogue. I knew Riccarda had to leave soon, to join her husband and son in Tunisia, but they weren’t meant to be in Rome: we were supposed to have had three more days together. I had a fixed booking on a flight back to London that I couldn’t change. I would have to buy another ticket.

I didn’t say much. What could I say?

Riccarda must have seen my euphoria turn to misery. She suggested I stay on with Lilla in Rome, but Lilla, too, was preparing to leave for Venice.

‘Where’s your friend … Marco?’ Riccarda asked. ‘Can’t you join him for a few days?’

I shook my head.

‘He has his own plans. I’m going back. No point in staying on without you.’

She offered me money, to travel in Italy, or for a ticket home. I didn’t take it.

‘It all happened so fast,’ she said when we parted. ‘I’m confused.’

I wished I could talk to Marco, confide in him. Have one or two days more with him by the lake. Or tell him to come back to Rome: he might, on his motorbike. But I didn’t call him. I couldn’t bear to tell him what had happened, it would be like putting myself at his mercy. Instead I spent a day in Rome alone with Lilla. I couldn’t change my booking; I couldn’t find another cheap flight, and I couldn’t afford a full fare.

Lilla drove me to the station to take a train back to London. ‘Typical of her,’ she said. Somehow I knew it wasn’t the first time she’d been left to look after one of Riccarda’s lovers.