“Come and sit beside me.” She returns her limpid gaze to Ben, gesturing to a chair. “We have so much to catch up on.” Her voice is a purr. It’s all such a cliché and the sort of scene I’ve seen Ben act out often enough now to find quite funny. When I look up though, I see that Ben isn’t looking at her – he’s looking at me, and there is something odd in his expression. I wonder if he caught her disdainful glance.

Ben hesitates.

“Oh don’t mind me, Benedick,” I say cheerfully. “I’m just here for the food.”

He gives me a glare that tells me he knows I’m laughing at him, and he doesn’t appreciate it. But before he can respond, Klaus appears at my elbow.

“There you are!” he exclaims, leaning in close. “Ursula and I had to get away from this lot. Fil’s guests this evening leave a little to be desired.” His eyes linger distastefully for a moment on Simone.

“What do you suggest?” I ask.

“Join us for a picnic, of course,” Klaus responds promptly, flashing me a grin that shows off his white teeth to their best advantage. “We’re down by the fountain. Ursula sent me for wine and to fetch you.”

“In that order, I expect,” I say, and it’s Klaus’s turn to laugh.

His lips are close to my ear. “Your only mission is to find dessert.”

“You have come to the right woman for the job,” I reply. “Rosa won’t have let us down, I’m sure. Take this for me, will you?” I hand him my laden plate, and he bows slightly.

“I am, as always, at your service, Bea,” he drawls.

“So chivalrous,” I call over my shoulder, already making my way back to the kitchen.

Once inside I find that I have not misjudged the situation. Though she is nowhere to be seen, Rosa has left neat rows of home-made cannoli laid out on the side. The shells of fried pastry are as pretty as a picture, stuffed with sweet, creamy ricotta, their ends dipped in dark chocolate and delicate green pistachios. I take a plate and begin filling it.

“What are you doing?” Ben’s voice makes me jump and I swing round.

“I’m getting some dessert,” I say.

“For you and Klaus?” Ben asks casually, strolling over and swiping a cannoli from my plate.

“Yes,” I reply. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be practising the art of seduction out in the garden?”

He leans back against the counter, his arms folded. “What do you mean?”