‘Thank you,’ I said as he carried an extra chair to the table and set another place for himself. ‘I really hope I’m not disturbing you. And that Valentina doesn’t mind me gatecrashing her special supper with her father.’

‘Quite the opposite – she’s absolutely thrilled. Although I warn you, she keeps calling you my girlfriend. Just ignore her; she’s forever trying to matchmake her poor old Papai! Sáude!’ he said as he lifted his glass to mine.

‘Sáude. And happy birthday,’ I toasted him.

Valentina appeared through the door and brought another bowl to the table, placing it shyly in front of me.

‘Hello,’ she said. ‘Papai said your name was Maia; it’s a pretty name. And you are pretty too, don’t you think so?’ she added, turning to her father as she sat down between us at the table.

‘I think that Maia is very pretty indeed,’ Floriano agreed gallantly. ‘And this supper looks delicious. Thank you, querida.’

‘Papai, we both know it’s burnt and will taste horrible and I don’t at all mind if you want to put it in the dustbin and we have chocolate instead,’ Valentina replied pragmatically, eyeing the gift I had brought with me. ‘I’m not a very good cook yet,’ she shrugged as her dark eyes turned to me. ‘Are you married?’ she asked me as we all lifted our forks tentatively to start eating.

‘No, I’m not, Valentina.’ I suppressed a smile at her blatant interrogation tactic.

‘Do you have a boyfriend?’ she continued.

‘No, not at the moment.’

‘Then perhaps Papai can be your boyfriend?’ she suggested, as she put a forkful of food to her mouth, chewed it for a few seconds then unceremoniously spat it out into her bowl.

‘Valentina! That was disgusting!’ Floriano chided her harshly.

‘Like this is.’ She indicated her bowl.

‘Well, I rather like it. I’ve always been fond of barbeques,’ I winked at her.

‘I’m really sorry. You don’t have to eat it, either of you. But at least there’s a very good thing for pudding. Why are you here, Maia?’ she asked me, changing the subject without even pausing for breath. ‘Are you helping Papai with his work?’

‘Yes. I’ve translated your father’s book into French.’

‘You don’t sound French and you look Brazilian. Doesn’t she, Papai?’

‘Yes, you’re right, she does,’ Floriano agreed.

‘So do you live in Paris?’ Valentina asked.

‘No, I live in Switzerland, on the shores of a very big lake.’

Valentina rested the palms of her hands under her chin. ‘I’ve never been away from Brazil. Can you tell me about the place you live?’

I did my best to describe Switzerland to her. When I mentioned the snow that fell so heavily in the winter, Valentina’s eyes lit up.

‘I’ve never seen snow, except in pictures. Perhaps I can come and stay with you one time and make the snow angels you said you used to make with your sisters when you were a little girl?’