I texted them both to say I was fine and I’d email them all with my news soon, then, mirroring my earlier thoughts with decisive action, I left the hotel and walked into the heart of Ipanema. I found a supermarket and bought two bottles of the best red wine they had and some chocolates for Valentina. I walked through the bustling square, where a night market was attracting the locals, and made my way to the street where Floriano lived.

Climbing the steps, I was faced with the choice of five buzzers. I pressed the first one and got no reply, then the second and the third. Pressing the last one and receiving silence, I was just about to turn tail and retrace my footsteps back to the hotel when I heard a shout from high above me.

‘Hey, Maia! Press the top buzzer and I’ll let you in.’

‘Okay,’ I called out to him. And a few seconds later, I was at the already open door to his apartment.

‘We’re in the kitchen,’ he shouted as I entered. ‘Go up to the roof terrace and I’ll see you there.’

I did as I was told, noticing a definite smell of burnt food pervading the downstairs rooms. I stood looking out over the terrace at the sun setting behind the hillside which housed the favela. Finally, Floriano appeared, sweating slightly.

‘Sorry about that. Valentina insisted she wanted no help heating up the pasta dish that Petra had helped her make earlier for her to serve to me tonight. Sadly, she turned the gas onto full power and I’m afraid it’s a burnt offering for my birthday supper. I’ve left her in the kitchen to plate it up, but she wants to know if you would like some too. I think I could do with some help to chew my way through it,’ he admitted.

‘If you’re sure there’s enough, then yes, I’d love to stay.’

‘Oh yes, there’s plenty,’ he said as he noticed the bottles of wine and the chocolates.

‘To wish you a happy birthday,’ I said. ‘And also to say thank you for all the help you’ve given me.’

‘That’s sweet of you, Maia, I appreciate it. I’ll go and get another wine glass and see how the cook’s getting on downstairs. And tell her that we have another guest for supper. Please, sit down.’

He indicated the table as he left and I saw that it had been spread with a white lace tablecloth and carefully set for two. In the centre of the table, taking pride of place, was a big homemade birthday card, depicting a man with stick arms and legs, and bearing the caption, ‘Feliz Aniversário Papai!’

Floriano eventually returned, carrying a tray with a wine glass, extra cutlery and two bowls of food. ‘Valentina has ordered us to begin eating,’ he said as he set the contents of the tray on the table and proceeded to open a bottle of the wine I’d brought.