She folded my fingers over the charm and nodded, to show that I should keep it. It was an old gift, cheap, second-hand, but still, coming from someone who, not so long ago had pointed a gun at me, it meant a great deal and I was grateful.

52

Joe was up at dawn. I, exhausted by my adventures the previous night, didn’t stir from my bed in the hayloft until he woke me with coffee. It was bitter and dark and smoky. Everything was going to smell and taste of smoke for the next few days.

I turned the plastic key ring between my fingers.

Joe sat beside me, rubbing his eyes. He was coughing a good deal.

I patted his back. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Tired,’ he answered, ‘but we need to get on. We’ve got a lot of clearing up to do.’

I stared into my coffee cup.

‘Where are we even going to start?’ I asked.

‘We’ll take one room at a time.’

‘It’ll take forever,’ I said, ‘and everything’s filthy. We don’t have any paint. We don’t have any money, we’ll need special stuff for cleaning the curtains and the upholstery and…’

‘Hey,’ Joe said, ‘we’ve got water. We’ve got soap. We’ll manage.’

His voice was upbeat but I heard a weariness behind the words. He was struggling to muster enthusiasm for all the work that lay ahead too.

We finished our coffee and headed back towards the villa, me trailing behind. I had the strongest feeling he knew what I was thinking and was trying to get ahead of me so he wouldn’t hear me when I said: ‘Joe, I don’t want to do this any more.’

He stopped then. I saw his shoulders slump. He turned slowly and looked at me through bloodshot eyes.

‘We can’t stop now,’ said Joe. ‘We’ve done so much already. The gardens are almost finished and you’ve worked so hard inside the villa. If we stop it’ll all have been for nothing.’