‘Well, maybe we can do some of both,’ I conciliated. ‘I happen to love Disney films too.’

‘Well, I’m not even coming with you, because Papai is going to Paris tomorrow for his book and has some work he needs to do before he leaves. So I’m going to stay with avô and vovó.’

‘You’re going to Paris?’ I asked Floriano in surprise, experiencing a sudden, irrational stab of fear at the news.

‘Yes. Remember the email I sent you a few weeks ago? You’re invited too, don’t forget,’ he said, smiling at me.

‘Oh yes, of course,’ I said, recalling his message.

‘I’m not,’ Valentina said, pouting. ‘Papai thinks I’ll get in the way.’

‘No, querida, I think you’ll get very bored. Remember how you hate it when you come to my readings and book signings here? The minute we arrive, you’re tugging on my arm asking when we can go home.’

‘But they’re here, not in Paris. I’d love to go to Paris,’ Valentina said wistfully.

‘And one day,’ replied Floriano, leaning towards her and kissing her on top of her dark, shiny hair, ‘I promise I’ll take you. Right,’ he said, ‘your grandparents will be here any minute. Have you packed your case?’

‘Yes, Papai,’ she said obediently.

‘Maia, while I clear up breakfast, would you mind going with Valentina and checking that she has enough clothes and a toothbrush for the next two weeks?’ Floriano asked me. ‘She can be a little . . . haphazard with her packing.’

‘Of course,’ I agreed, and followed Valentina down the stairs and into her tiny bedroom. Everything in it was pink – walls, duvet cover, and even some of the teddy bears that sat in a row at the bottom of the bed. As Valentina gestured at me to sit down and hauled the case onto the bed for me to inspect its contents, I smiled at the cliché, finding it comforting at the same time. Pink seemed to simply be part of a little girl’s genetic make-up. It had been my colour of choice too.

‘Everything I need is in there, I promise,’ said Valentina, folding her little arms defensively as I opened the lid. Barbie dolls, DVDs, colouring books and loose felt-tip pens had been stuffed inside. As had one T-shirt, a pair of jeans and some trainers.

‘Do you think you might need some underwear?’ I ventured.

‘Oh yes,’ Valentina said, going to a drawer. ‘I forgot about that.’

‘And maybe these pyjamas?’ I suggested, reaching for the ones Valentina had obviously thrown on the floor when she’d dressed this morning. ‘And perhaps some more clothes?’

Ten minutes later, I heard the intercom buzz and Floriano’s footsteps coming down the stairs.

‘They’re here. I hope you’re ready, Valentina,’ he called from the corridor.

‘I don’t want to go,’ she said, looking up from the pictures she’d been showing me that she’d coloured in.

Instinctively, I put an arm round her small shoulders. ‘I’m sure it’ll be great fun. I bet your grandparents spoil you rotten.’