Yara took my hand and we sat together, both of us mourning the tragedy of the situation.

After I wrote down my address, telephone number and email on a piece of paper that Yara had handed to me, she walked me outside to the waiting car.

‘Goodbye, senhorita. I’m glad that all was resolved between you and Senhora Beatriz before it was too late.’

‘It’s all down to you, Yara. Beatriz is very lucky to have had you as a companion.’

‘And I her,’ Yara countered as I climbed into the car.

‘Please promise to let me know when . . .’ I couldn’t bring myself to say the words.

‘Of course. Now, you go off and live your life, senhorita. As perhaps you have learnt from your own family’s story, every moment of it is precious.’

Taking Yara at her word, back at the hotel I checked my emails with far more anticipation than usual. And managed a smile when I saw that Floriano had replied. Paris was wonderful, he said, but he needed an interpreter to help him with his bad French.

I have also discovered something you should see, Maia. Please let me know when you will be arriving.

I laughed to myself as I read this, for he wasn’t asking me whether I would arrive, but when. I called down to the concierge and asked them to check whether there was availability on a flight from Rio to Paris, and they called up ten minutes later to tell me there was only room in the first-class cabin. I gulped as I heard the cost, but then agreed and asked them to book the seat. And felt Pa Salt, Beatriz and Bel cheering me on.

I then left the hotel and went deep into Ipanema, back to the market, and bought a number of ‘unsuitable’ dresses that the former Maia would have been horrified at. But this was the new Maia, who thought that, just maybe, she was loved by a man, and she wanted to please him and look her best.

No more hiding, I told myself firmly as I also purchased two pairs of shoes with a heel to them and walked along the road to a pharmacy to test out some scent, something I hadn’t worn for years. I then bought a new red lipstick.

That night, I went upstairs to the hotel roof terrace to catch a last glimpse of the Cristo as the sun began to set. Sipping a glass of chilled white wine, I thanked Him and the heavens for bringing me back to myself.

And as I left Rio early the next morning with Pietro, I looked back at Him, high above me on Corcovado Mountain, feeling with a strange certainty that I’d be back in His embrace very soon.

50

‘Hello?’ said a familiar voice at the other end of the phone line.

‘Ma, it’s me, Maia.’

‘Maia! How are you, chérie? It seems an age since I heard from you last,’ Marina added with a hint of reproach in her voice.