Cressa turns to her, and Amara is shocked by how old and tired her face is in the full glare of the light. “I know that none of you understand,” she says. “That you think it’s something I should just get over,” Amara starts to protest, but Cressa raises a hand to stop her. “If you ever have a child, Amara, you will understand what I feel.”

She says nothing, aware of Cressa’s swelling belly, of the new baby she is carrying. They sit in silence, until Cressa starts to heave herself to her feet. Amara tries to help, but Cressa motions for her to stay where she is.

“Do you mind if I have a few moments to myself?” Cressa says. “You can wait here. I won’t be long.”

Amara is not keen on the idea. It’s never too safe at the harbor. But Cressa is looking down at her, eyes pleading, and she cannot refuse. “Alright,” she says. “But not far. I don’t want to be by myself out here for ages.”

Cressa sets off at a swift pace. She looks stronger and more determined than she has done for a while. The sea air was a good idea, after all. Amara holds onto the base of a pillar and cranes her neck round so she can see where Cressa is going. She watches her approach the docks then come to a stop by some amphora that are being unloaded from a boat. Cressa leans against one of the large jars, perhaps taking the weight off her swollen feet. She is looking out to sea, at the heave and swell of the water. Amara does too. The light is dancing on the waves. She looks further out, to where Venus Pompeiiana stands, the water breaking against the heavy stone base of her column. The goddess of love, Amara’s new mistress. She has more respect for her since the Vinalia. It was after her prayers to the goddess that her fortunes began to change. Don’t forget me, Aphrodite, she thinks, staring at the statue. Show me a way out, and the rest of my life is yours.

She glances back to where Cressa was standing and gasps, scrambling to her feet in alarm. A man is remonstrating with her, trying to stop Cressa leaning on his goods, but she is stubbornly clinging on. Amara breaks into a run. The man is shouting; it looks as if he is about to grab hold of her. Amara yells at her to let go, and to her relief, Cressa steps away, but then, in a violent movement, she pushes an amphora over the edge of the harbor wall. Cressa goes with it, pulled so fast over the side, she is almost a blur. She must have tied her cloak to the handle.