“Come on then,” he says. “Let’s get you delivered to Leo in one piece. He was most concerned about you; said he didn’t want you left waiting alone. Said you were a well-bred and sheltered young lady.” He snorts. “And I’m the King of England.” He looks at me, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. “I’d even go so far as to say you were quite enjoying yourself.”

“I certainly enjoyed the part where your feet went up over your head before you hit the platform,” I say sweetly.

Ben shakes his head. “You caught me by surprise,” he mutters, and then turns on his heel.

I follow him outside to a battered car that looks like it’s held together with nothing but rust and hope. Ben throws my bag on to the back seat and I slide into the passenger side. He starts the car and we shudder away from the station and out into the night.

In the darkness around us, barely anything is visible; the weak arcs of light from the car headlamps achieve little except to attract every moth within a one-mile radius. The sky is still overcast and only a few of the more robust stars are on display, while the moon drifts in and out of sight as the breeze moves the clouds across its reassuringly familiar face. It’s funny that after all this travel the same moon hangs suspended in the sky – as though that, too, should somehow be different. The roof of the car is down and the air slipping past me is cool, carrying a sharp smell of pine needles.

I shiver a little, though whether it is from the temperature or the excitement I’m not sure.

I glimpse a rough blanket folded on the back seat beside my bag. As I twist and lean over to get it I’m forced to clamber about a bit. Ben grinds the gears rather dramatically.

“Car troubles?” I ask sympathetically, dropping back into the seat. “If it helps, I think you might be trying to change up too quickly.”

“The only problem I have is you flailing around while I’m trying to concentrate,” he snaps.

“I’m cold,” I say. “I needed the blanket.” I drag it around my shoulders, welcoming the warmth it brings.

We travel on in silence, which is fine by me – I am happy just to sit and strain my eyes against the darkness for any clues about our whereabouts. I am in Italy, I think, as Ben hums beneath his breath and the car heaves itself along. I am really here; it is really happening.