‘Don’t listen to me,’ she insisted. ‘I shouldn’t have mentioned it. Have a snooze, have a night out with Jules, and when you’re back tomorrow call me and I’ll take you on an adventure. Okay? Promise me you’ll still think about Antwerp?’

‘I promise,’ I said. ‘Okay.’

I was lying, of course.

I dozed right through until the hotel phone rang. Jules was in reception, wondering where I was.

‘Oh, crap,’ I said groggily. ‘I lost track of time. Give me ten minutes, okay? No. Fifteen.’

He seemed quite mad by the time I got downstairs.

‘I hate waiting,’ he said. ‘Even for colleagues as charming as you.’

‘It’s like I’ve disappointed my dad,’ I muttered.

‘We’re late is all,’ he replied. ‘Anyway. Come on.’

He walked fast, which is how I could tell he was still pissed off, and it made me think of Patrick (again!), how every morning he’d say, Ready, ready, chicken jelly? And even when I wasn’t ready he’d sit and read a leaflet or look at the trees until I was. Patrick never once stormed off ahead of me, treating me like a naughty tween. Even when we were fighting, like now, he wasn’t emotionally withholding or nasty. Jules was kind of … mercurial.

‘Hey,’ I said. ‘I can show myself around the city if you’d prefer. I’m sorry I was late.’

‘Thank you for finally apologizing.’ His words were clipped. And then, softening, he added, ‘It’s fine. Let’s walk to the other side of the water to work up an appetite, and then we can have dinner. Okay?’

‘Okay,’ I said, but I could tell he was still shaking off his anger.

We walked in silence for a while, heading through the underpass to the other side of the river so that we could see where we’d come from light up as it got darker. The odd after-work jogger sprinted past, and parents with kids on an evening gelato run meandered by. I smiled at an older couple strolling arm in arm.

‘It’s a very romantic city,’ I said as a pensioner grinned at me before turning his attentions back to the wife he was clinging to. ‘People seem happy. Like they have the time to do as they please. Does that make sense?’

‘Absolutely,’ he agreed. ‘I’m very proud of where I am from.’

‘It reminds me of the harbour in Sydney. The water and the view. The people.’

‘I’ve been to Australia only once,’ he said, and I smiled as I took a breath to seize on this commonality with him. ‘It’s beautiful there, but it’s very far away.’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I was there recently, actually. I loved it.’

‘Not as much as here, surely?’ He looked out to the water admiringly.