The bus arrived at the Pile Gate, the main entrance to the city walls, and Liv hopped off. A woman dressed all in black and wearing a white headdress sat on a low stool making lace. She had a pile of postcards at her feet for sale and Liv picked up a few and handed over some kuna.

She made her way across a beautiful old stone bridge that was once a drawbridge. The Stradun stretched before her, a long square with shiny limestone paving stones and a statuesque white clock tower. Liv walked along it with her chin raised, taking in the wooden-shuttered windows, arched doorways and a majestic domed cathedral. She felt like Alice stepping into Wonderland.

It felt strange not having to chastise Jake for walking one meter in front of her, or to referee Mack and Johnny’s squabbling. She could turn corners and slip down streets without prior negotiation of who wanted to do what.

Most of the shops were still closed, and there weren’t many people around yet. Liv meandered, looking in windows at handcrafted leather handbags, and chocolate truffles with curls of coconut on top. On one of the side streets, a man stood in a doorway and held out a plate full of crystallized orange slices and caramelized almonds. “You try.” He gestured.

“Hvala,” Liv said and crunched into the sugary orange. “Delicious.” She bought three small bags and asked him how to find Bar Boca.

He pointed toward a narrow street. “Look for the gap in the wall.”

As she walked, a small truck trundled past her with crates of Coca-Cola rattling on the back. Liv glanced after it, her throat suddenly dry. She soon found herself in a tangle of streets with stone walls so tall it was like being in a maze. The paths crossed, and she relied on her instinct to take her in the right direction.

After a while, she saw a person-sized slit in the wall revealing a vertical slice of sparkling teal sea. A small piece of wood read Bar Boca in crude letters.

Liv squeezed through the gap and saw hundreds of tiny steps carved into the rock face, curving down to a paved plateau set out with tables and chairs. Beyond that was a sheer drop where waves crashed against the rocks below.

On a table overlooking the sea, Sven sat talking to another man.

Liv held out her arms for balance and made her way down the steps. She sat at the bar on a stool made out of a beer barrel, ordered fresh orange juice and glanced over at Sven.

He was the epitome of the word chilled, wearing a gray linen suit with battered sandals that displayed his tanned ankles. Liv could see the bluey patterns of his tattoos through his white cotton shirt. He sipped coffee from a tiny cup and silver rings on his fingers flashed in the sunshine.