When the shutters were open and the villa was airing, Joe and I went outside into the garden. We coughed the dust out of our lungs and picked cobwebs from our hair and clothes. Joe’s face was grey with dirt and mine must have been the same.

‘Is there anywhere we can wash?’ I asked.

‘There’s the sea.’

I followed him through the garden, through a gap in the hedge, past the swimming pool, a tarpaulin that once covered it wrinkled in the bottom amongst dead leaves and dirt, and across the old lawn. At the farthest end, a path wound between overgrown oleander trees to steps that led down to a decked area a few feet above the sea. The rusting skeletons of two sunbeds had been pushed up against the steps. Someone had gone to the trouble of attaching a metal ladder to the far end of the decking in a narrow gap between the rocks so it was possible to climb over the sharp rock face down into the water without scraping one’s knees and elbows. The sea slapped laconically against the scarred face of the rocks.

I held onto the side of the ladder and looked down. The water was crystal-clear, and very deep. Different kinds of fish swam in layers close to the rocks, sunlight glinted in the water, and deeper down, weed the colour of rubies waved its delicate fronds. The sun beat down on my back. The water was enticing.

Daniel would have loved this, I thought, and for the briefest instant I felt him with me, holding on to my hand, looking down into the water.

Joe had come to stand beside me. He looked over my shoulder, almost, but not quite, touching me. I could feel the warmth of his body.

‘Fuck it,’ he said. ‘I’m going in.’

He stepped back, took off his boots and socks, pulled his T-shirt over his head and dropped it on the decking. He pulled down his shorts and stepped out of them. He was wearing dark blue boxer shorts beneath, with a black, elasticated belt. He ran past me, leapt over the steps and somersaulted into the water. He reappeared a way away from the decking, shaking his head, droplets flying from his hair and sparkling in the light. He did not call to me but swam out to sea.

I wanted to be in there too.

Beneath my clothes, I was wearing ordinary, mismatched, comfortable underwear. Fitz had insisted I bring my swimming costume, in case the opportunity to spend some time at the beach arose, but the costume was in my suitcase, which was still in the boot of the Fiat. It would be a long walk to retrieve it.