‘Where have you been, chérie? Your friend has to board the launch immediately or he will miss his flight.’ Marina gave me a quizzical stare before turning her attention to Floriano. ‘It’s been a pleasure to meet you and I hope we’ll be seeing you back at Atlantis soon. Now, I’ll leave you two to say goodbye.’

‘Maia,’ Floriano said as Marina left us. ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing, nothing . . . Look, Christian is waiting for you. You’d better go.’

He opened his mouth to say something, but I abruptly left his side and walked in front of him along the pier towards the launch, giving Floriano no choice but to follow me. Christian handed him into the boat and started the motor.

‘Adeus, Maia,’ Floriano said, his eyes full of sadness. The launch began to move away from the pier, and the engines churned noisily.

‘I’ll write to you!’ he shouted to me above the roar. Then he said something else which I didn’t catch as the launch sped away from Atlantis. And from me.

I walked miserably back towards the house, berating myself for my childish behaviour. I was a grown woman, for God’s sake, and should be able to cope with what I had known from the start was this inevitable parting. Rationally, I knew it was a knee-jerk reaction to my past, the pain of the parting with Zed still – after all these years – burning laserlike into my psyche.

Marina was waiting for me in front of the Pavilion, arms crossed and a frown on her face.

‘What was all that about, Maia? Had you two had an argument? Floriano seemed like such a nice young man. You hardly said goodbye. Neither of us knew where you were.’

‘I had . . . something to do. Sorry.’ I shrugged, feeling like a petulant teenager being told off for bad manners. ‘By the way, I’m going into Geneva to see Georg Hoffman. Is there anything you need?’ I asked her pointedly, changing the subject.

Marina looked at me, and I saw something that resembled despair in her eyes. ‘No thank you, dear. Nothing.’

She walked away from me, and I felt as ridiculous as I knew my behaviour had been.

Georg Hoffman’s offices were situated in the business district of Geneva, just off the Rue Jean-Petitot. Georg’s office was sleek and modern, with huge floor-length windows giving an aerial view of the harbour in the distance.

‘Maia,’ he said as he stood up from his desk to greet me. ‘This is an unexpected pleasure.’ He smiled as he ushered me to a black leather sofa and we both sat down. ‘I hear you’ve been away.’

‘Yes. Who told you?’

‘Marina, of course. Now, what can I do for you?’ he asked.

‘Well . . .’ I cleared my throat. ‘I suppose it’s two things really.’

‘Right.’ Georg steepled his fingers. ‘Fire away then.’