The stall-keeper called out to her. When she said she didn’t understand, he switched to English. “You want? Last fish? Good price, huh?”

“I’m sorry. Staying at a hotel,” she said and walked on. As she did so, she pictured herself at that market, learning to bargain with the stall-keepers, buying fresh fruit and veg and fish every day. It was a tempting daydream until she reminded herself that she had a life back in England, a son to raise, a grandmother to comfort.

At last a distant clock chimed the hour, and she crossed the bridge back to the palazzo. Alas, the furniture inside did not match the grandeur of the exterior, and the first two people she addressed did not speak English. Finally, a young woman was called, and Caroline explained what she wanted. As Luca had suspected, the records from long ago were stored in a separate building. This involved crossing the Rialto Bridge and heading towards the less desirable part of the city, then climbing several flights of stairs from a dingy courtyard. More translation was needed, much waving of hands, and then an elderly man suggested she leave the certificate with them.

“No, sorry,” Caroline said. “This is not leaving my hands. Too important. Can you make a copy and check with that?”

He finally agreed that he could, then indicated the search might take a few days, maybe a week, maybe more. He shrugged. “Is very old document . . .”

The frustration boiled over. “Listen, please,” she said. “It is very important that I know whether this place belongs to me. There is someone who would like to take it from me if I can’t prove I own it. Please help me.”

Of course, no Italian man can resist the words “please help me” from a lady. He gave her a tired smile. “For you, signora, I will do my very best. Come back tomorrow, eh?”

So she had to be content with leaving a photocopy with Signor Alessi and agreeing to meet late the next afternoon. The weather seemed to have set in for the day, so she gave up, went back to the pensione and fell into a long afternoon nap, no doubt encouraged by the wine she had drunk at midday. The rain had worsened by the evening, so she made for the closest restaurant: a small cramped room, seemingly populated by students from the nearby university, where she was pleasantly surprised by the quality of the seafood risotto.