‘What if it was the same person who killed the cat?’ I asked. ‘What if someone is trying to make us go away?’

Joe shook his head. ‘We don’t know that anybody killed the cat, Edie. And how could the two things possibly be connected? It’s vandalism, no more than that. It’s not the end of the world.’

It wasn’t, but still, it was a horrible thing to happen.

We called the car hire company, who told us to take photographs of the damage and make a report to the police. We did. The following afternoon, a representative came to collect the damaged car and brought us a replacement, Fiat Two. He told us we should be more careful about where we left it. We would have to pay the excess. Another expense to add to our list.

Joe was in a bad mood for a couple of days after that. He spent some time bashing at the old concrete walls of the swimming pool with a sledgehammer. Then Liuni came and the two of them climbed into the attic, to make repairs to the feeder tank. From the room below, where I was giving the kittens their milk, and taking pictures of them with my phone, I could hear the men’s voices. I couldn’t understand what they were saying because they were speaking Italian, but they were animated, united in anger about something.

When Liuni left, I suggested we go for a swim. Clouds had formed over the sea, obliterating the blue sky and the sun, but the weather was hotter than ever and humid. The air was full of tiny black flies. My skin felt slippery and dank and the joints in my bad leg were more painful than they’d been for weeks. We went to the decked area. Joe took off his boots and dived straight into the sea. He swam out towards the horizon, his arms chopping through the water, his head disappearing from time to time behind the bulge of a wave.

I changed into my swimsuit and then jumped into the water, hoping it would refresh me, but after the first delightful shock of cold, even the sea seemed viscous and gloopy. The darkening sky was reflected in the sullen water, the waves were black that day with none of the twinkle and spray that I’d come to love. I felt unaccountably nervous of whatever creatures moved beneath me – it was nothing more than anxiety about Joe’s mood and a reaction to the changing texture of the sea, but I could not bear it and, after ten minutes or so, swam to the steps and pulled myself out onto the decking. I sat on the towel, holding my knees and, moments later, Joe’s head appeared at the top of the steps. He leaned down and shook his head, spraying water like a dog, then came to sit beside me.