May agreed with her and then, as she enjoyed the breeze from the Arno and the sight of Florence’s distinctive skyline drawing ever nearer, allowed Miss Light’s chatter to flow over her.

Only as their carriage rolled into the bustling piazza did she realize that Miss Light’s subject of conversation had turned to Mr Thaddy. ‘Can you see him, May?’ she asked as their carriage rocked to a halt on the piazza’s cobbles. ‘I can’t, and it would be so unlike Mr Thaddy to be late.’

For a moment or two May couldn’t see him, either, and then a group of tourists moved away from where they had been watching workmen redoing the cathedral’s facade in white-and-green marble and she had a clear view of him. Dressed in a cream cutaway jacket, white flannels, a flamboyantly patterned floppy silk bow-tie and a straw boater, he was in conversation with a well-dressed Italian.

For a few seconds, enjoying being able to look at Mr Thaddy when he was unaware of her doing so, May didn’t draw Miss Light’s attention to him. Below his boater, his dark hair curled low into his neck and, against sun-bronzed skin, his blue-black immaculately trimmed pencil moustache gave him an even more Italian look than that of the man he was speaking to.

She drew in a quick little breath, aware, for the first time, of the similarities between Mr Thaddy and Eddy. At twenty-three, Mr Thaddy was only three years older than Eddy and both of them were tall, dark-haired and, although Eddy wasn’t sun-bronzed, he had such a naturally olive-tone to his complexion that it was a Wales family joke that dear Eddy didn’t look at all English. Just as she was wondering if she was destined to go through life being attracted only to men who looked Mediterranean, Miss Light closed her parasol with a snap, saying triumphantly, ‘There he is! Mr Thaddy! Mr Thaddy!’

He waved in acknowledgement, ended his conversation and, with loose-limbed ease, strode across to them.

‘I am so looking forward to this, Mr Thaddy,’ Miss Light said as they entered the cathedral’s vast, impressive interior. ‘I can’t tell you how foolish I feel for not already being familiar with this particular sculpture.’

‘Then I hope it will not disappoint.’

When they were ten yards into the cathedral he came to a halt and gently turned her around.

‘Now, Miss Light. Look upwards and to your left.’

Miss Light did so, drew in her breath and said, ‘Oh, I am glad you have pointed him out to me. You are quite right in that he looks very bored and also, I think, rather lonely, positioned as he is away from all the cathedral’s other tomb memorials.’

‘That, I think, is because he is not one of Florence’s better-known bishops.’