‘The person you want to beat the most.’

‘Yes,’ she says. ‘I hate her.’

‘That’s a bit harsh.’ Poor Céline, whoever she is. Knowing Léa as I now do, I certainly wouldn’t want to face her over a net. ‘Now go get your swimming stuff ready. We’re meeting Jorge at the pool, remember?’

She skips off towards her bedroom and I walk to mine. I gather my towel and swimsuit into a beach bag and check my phone, relieved to see there’s no message from him cancelling on me. My stomach does a little hop at the thought of seeing him again, at having a day by the pool with some adult company.

Despite the low regard he’s entitled to hold me in after my behaviour so far, it seems he isn’t averse to spending some more time with me too, and the thought is a pleasant surprise. I just hope he doesn’t ask too many questions. Part of me wants to explain my obsession with the Chevalleys that night in the jazz club, and to tell him about my trip to Reichenbach, about seeing Daniel in the garden, a question in his eyes as he looked up and I turned and fled. I want to ask Jorge why I did that; I want him to solve this whole mess for me and stop the jitters that ripple through me when I think of Daniel potentially being my father, and of Julia possibly being the woman who’s living my life. But I don’t want to admit to the extent of my snooping in Julia’s things, of finding the letter from Anna Meier, because I don’t want to see dislike or pity or anger in his face. I want to see the smile he gave me as we sat around a table with his friends in the jazz club, the crinkles around his eyes as we laughed about Swiss washing rotas.

He’s not there when we arrive and I busy myself sorting the children out. I apply sunscreen to Luca as he tries to wriggle from my grasp, set out the towels on our chosen patch of grass and pile discarded clothes into a vaguely neat heap by my beach bag. I’m content to sit at the edge of the pool as Luca and Léa take it in turns to throw themselves in – Luca, curling himself up in a ball to create as much splash as possible; Léa holding her nose with one hand and jumping arrow-straight into the water. It’s warm and the cloudless sky is a delicious shade of blue. A slight breeze in the air keeps it from getting too hot. It should be sublimely relaxing, but my blood can’t settle. My mind’s on a treadmill.