Ben smiles, a real smile this time. “That’s wonderful,” he says. “You’ll be wonderful, I’m certain.”

“And you could come with me,” I say again.

“And do what?” Ben asks. He turns and walks restlessly away, before turning back again. “Look, I’ve been offered a commission in Spain. It’s an important one, one that could mean big things for me. You have your life to live, Bea, and I have mine. I don’t want to go back to England, but you should.” He gives a small smile. “It’s the rational thing to do.”

A sense of numbness is spreading through my body; it’s as though his words are coming from far away.

“I know that,” I manage. “I understand it logically, but I – I don’t feel rational about you.”

I find myself suddenly swept into a kiss that is frantic, wild. It’s a kiss that says so many of the things I’ve been struggling to find the words for. It’s ferocious, all-consuming and almost painfully intimate. It feels as though I’ve been stripped back to something shining and elemental. As if I have shared my whole self with Ben, and he has shared his whole self with me. Our bodies coil around each other as if that’s what they were made for, as, I suppose, they were. It’s a kiss full of longing, of tenderness, of sorrow, and by the time we break apart I am trembling.

“I don’t feel rational about you either,” Ben says finally. “But that doesn’t change the facts. We always knew it was just for the summer. That’s why we put the rules in place.”

“You must not, under any circumstances whatsoever, fall in love with me,” I say dully.

“Right.”

“You’ll go to Spain, will you?” My voice is bitter; I fling the words at him angrily. “And what will you do there? Paint? Flirt with women? Ignore what’s happening in the world around you? It’s not just me you’re running away from, you know. You’re burying your head in the sand, too afraid to look at what’s going on. You’ll take a commission from whoever pays you, no matter what they stand for. Don’t you see that these people, all these rich patrons who will happily have dinner with a dictator – they’ll hurt the people you care about. Ursula and Klaus. Gert and Lili.” He flinches at that and I wonder if I’ve hit home. “You’re afraid,” I say, and to my surprise my voice is steady. “Too afraid to stand up for what you want. What you believe in. Do you think I care about your background? Do you think I wouldn’t fight for you, defend you? You’re a coward. You’re a coward and you’re turning your back on something that could be real.”