Suddenly I feel hands on my back and my brain is purged of thoughts for a few, empty moments when all I can feel is the unpleasant, bristling sensation of water up my nose and in the back of my throat. It can only be two or three seconds until I emerge spluttering to the surface to see the kids laughing at me and a sheepish Jorge standing on the edge of the pool where I’d been sitting.

‘What the…’ A choke in my throat ends my sentence and it’s just as well. I cough and breathe deeply as my heart rate begins to slow again.

‘Sorry,’ Jorge says, but I see from the smile twitching at his mouth that he isn’t at all. ‘I couldn’t resist.’

I glare at him, wanting to both punch him for nearly drowning me and hug him for turning up. ‘Right,’ I say when I can speak again. I struggle to stop my mouth twisting into a smile. ‘Come on, kids!’ I lunge at the water and spray an arc of it onto his legs. He jumps back, but not quickly enough to avoid his shorts being soaked. He stands there laughing as Léa and Luca take my lead and soon he’s so drenched he may as well be in the pool.

‘Okay, you asked for it.’ He strips off his sodden T-shirt and it lands on the ground with a heavy thwack. He jumps in the water, sending a tidal wave over our heads, and then all four of us are having a water fight, flinging our hands through the pool so spray hits our faces and we can hardly see. Léa leaps on Jorge’s back to try and push him under, Luca’s tugging at his arm, I’m splashing his face and he’s gasping for air, begging us for mercy. And then I’m laughing, unable to stop, my stomach aching with the effort, and it feels so good, so familiar, like revisiting an old friend I haven’t seen in years and years. I need this. I’ve so needed this. Maybe Patrick was right: laughter is one of the most important things of all.

After five minutes I’m exhausted. I haul myself out of the pool and sit on the edge again, the sun prickling my skin as it dries.

‘You wound them up nicely, they’ll be knackered later,’ I say to Jorge when he joins me on the edge. He’s tanned and lean, and I’m aware of my own less-than-toned belly and the ugly tan lines from my first trip to the pool when I underestimated the strength of the Swiss sun.

‘You’re welcome.’ He grins.

‘No work today?’

He shakes his head. ‘Now the festival’s over I have a couple of weeks off. I’m staying here this week, then I’ll head into the mountains with a few friends next week.’