This is part of me, and I am part of it . . .

Instinctively, I began to run along the beach, my toes clenching to take hold of the slippery sand and support me as I threw my arms out to either side in a moment of sheer exhilaration. I came to a halt, panting and doubled over, laughing at my uncharacteristic behaviour.

I left the beach, crossed the road and began to walk deep into the city, noting the mixture of colonial and modern buildings forced to become stablemates along the streets due to changing architectural fashions.

I rounded a corner and found myself in a square where vendors were already setting up an early morning fruit and vegetable market. Stopping at a stall, I picked up a peach and the young man behind it smiled at me.

‘Please, take it, senhorita.’

‘Obrigada,’ I said, and walked away, my teeth piercing the tender, succulent flesh of the fruit, my footsteps halting as I looked up suddenly and saw the white figure of the Cristo yet again hovering above me.

‘That’s what I’m going to do today,’ I announced to myself.

Suddenly realising I had no idea where I was or how far I’d strayed from the hotel, I simply followed the sound of the waves, and, like a homing pigeon which already had a map of the area imprinted upon it, I eventually found my way back.

I ate breakfast upstairs on the terrace, and, for the first time since Pa had died, found myself with an appetite. Arriving back in my room, I saw there were a number of messages on my mobile. I took the decision to ignore them, not wanting any form of reality to spoil the exhilaration I’d felt so far this morning. However, I did see an email in my inbox, the sender of which attracted my attention. It was from Floriano Quintelas.

My dear Senhorita D’Aplièse,

My publisher has told me the surprise that you are here in Rio. It would be my pleasure to meet with you in person and perhaps to take you to dinner or lunch to say thank you for your translation work on my book. My French publishers have high hopes that it will sell very well. Or perhaps you simply wish to see my beautiful city through a true carioca’s eyes. My mobile phone number is at the bottom of this email. And if I am honest, I would be most offended if you did not contact me during your stay.

I am at your disposal.

With kind regards,

Floriano Quintelas

The email made me chuckle; due to our various communications over the past year about The Silent Waterfall, I had already gleaned he did not like to waste words unnecessarily.

So, I thought, would he contact me if he was in Geneva, and I’d offered to show him the city?

And would I be offended if he did not?

The answer to both questions was yes.