The waterfront, that had looked so appealing from the other side of the bay, was, close up, as scruffy and run down as the rest of the town. The street facing the harbour was lined with bars and the pizzeria, Vito’s, was at the far end. A teenage boy was sweeping the terrace outside. He was dark haired and slender with heavy eyebrows; obviously Valentina’s son. He concentrated on his work, pushing the head of the brush under the tables, making a pile of dust. His expression was serious, as if he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

‘Ciao,’ said Joe as we drew near.

The boy looked up. ‘Ciao,’ he replied.

His eyes were dark and sensitive, wary, his arms wiry and tanned. He still had the narrow shoulders of a young boy, yet he worked with the diligence of a man.

Joe walked on, but I stopped to watch the boy.

He was only a little younger than Daniel would have been if he had lived. How wonderful it must be to have a teenage son; Valentina was lucky. If only I’d had the chance to see Daniel grow up! If only Anna hadn’t taken all that potential joy from me.

A wave of grief took me by surprise and in its aftermath I wondered if anyone had ever posted a picture of Daniel on the memorial wall: Anna or her mother? I couldn’t bear the thought of that: Daniel’s picture, out here, in this hot, distant little town, so far from home.

Valentina’s son was beside me, concern in his eyes. ‘Stai bene, signora?’

‘I’m fine. I’m sorry. Ignore me.’

‘American?’

‘English.’

He looked at me, still worried.

‘Really, I’m okay,’ I said.

‘I could fetch you some water.’

‘No. I don’t want anything.’ I smiled reassurance. From some distance away, Joe looked back over his shoulder to see where I was. ‘Joe over there used to be friends with your mother. We’re going to come here for pizza one day,’ I told the boy.

‘It’s the best pizza in town.’

‘That’s what we heard! I’ll look forward to it. See you again…?’

‘Francesco.’

‘Francesco. See you soon.’

I grabbed the rim of my hat and trotted after Joe, catching him up at the harbour wall. The water was green tinged, glassy, a slick of fuel making rainbows on its surface. Boats rocked at the ends of their ropes. Tiny pink jellyfish were floating around the weedy chains that anchored the buoys. The sun was warm on my skin.