From the landing window, I could see Joe crawling through the sea across the bay towards the floating dock. He was a long way away and it was unnerving to be in the villa with no other living being nearby. All around me, I sensed movement, whispers as if the shadows of the people who’d inhabited the villa were there with me; generations of DeLucas.

The child Anna used to play marbles here, on this landing. She’d told me she liked to come up here, out of sight of the adults downstairs who were always encouraging her to play the piano for them, or sit with them, which she found boring. She preferred to be alone. She’d sit on the landing, beside this very bookcase, and line up her collection of marbles according to her favourites, as if they had personalities. I’d played similar games with inanimate objects as a child. Had Anna imagined her dead brother and sisters here with her when she played?

As this exact question troubled me, I heard a gentle rumble, unmistakably the sound of a small glass ball rolling over the floorboards. I stepped back, against the wall, afraid that I’d inadvertently summoned the spirits of Anna’s lost siblings. I didn’t want to tread on a marble or step on the outstretched hand of an imaginary child.

Feeling light-headed, conscious that it was my overwrought state that was seeding these psychic fantasies, I hefted the awkward suitcase into the nearest bedroom and changed into a pair of shorts and a jumper. Then I ran back downstairs and out into the garden.

The sunset was lighting up one side of the villa, turning it red as if it was on fire. The kitchen was at the back of the villa and immediately beyond was a paved courtyard and behind that was the overgrown lawn and the derelict swimming pool. Wooden trellising supported an ancient vine with a trunk as thick as my thigh, a vine that had been trained to climb up and over the courtyard, giving it shade from the sun and some protection from the rain. Beneath the vine was a sturdy wooden table, covered with fallen leaves, desiccated grapes and bird droppings. Joe and his friends had moved three of the chairs earlier so they could drink their beers in the sunshine.

Joe and I could eat out here, this evening, I thought. We would have to eat together because the alternative, being in separate rooms inside the old villa was untenable to me. I couldn’t be alone in this place, in the dark. The very thought made the hairs on my body prickle, brought the whispers of the villa’s ghosts closer. I was so uneasy that I contemplated going back to the decking to find Joe, but I was afraid I might lose my way in the gloaming and accidentally wander into the graveyard of the still-born.