Ben looks torn between irritation and amusement again. “Oh, you’re doing it right,” he says, his fingers toying gently with mine. “I suppose I just hoped that if there was going to be any flirting it was going to be … well, with me.”

“Oh,” I say.

“I know the picnic didn’t go to plan,” he says, “but I think we need to give it another chance.”

I consider this for a moment. “A good experiment should always leave a margin for error.”

“So we can try again?” I think the smile Ben gives me is actually a little relieved.

“All right,” I say. “We can shake on it again if you like.”

Ben tugs a little at my hand and we’re standing very close together now. I pull back to look at his face, finding my eyes are on a level with his mouth. My brain empties and for a second something electric snaps in the air around us; what little distance there was between us seems to be fast disappearing, and I feel Ben’s arm close around my waist.

“Oh, I think we can do better than that,” he murmurs.

There’s a breathless beat as he bends his head towards mine. An outbreak of voices and laughter comes suddenly from the pool and breaks the tension. I pull away from Ben, surprised to find my breathing slightly ragged.

“Let’s go back,” I say.

“As you wish.” He is, I notice, also a little flushed, but he holds out his hand to me and as we walk back his easy charm slips seamlessly back into place.

We reach the pool to find that Hero and Filomena have joined the others. Filomena is dressed in paint-and plaster-spattered overalls; Hero is pink-faced and frowning.

“Look at you all having a lovely time,” Hero complains, “while I’m stuck inside with Signora Giuliani, conjugating verbs.”

“Your father would not be best pleased if I allowed you to abandon your schoolwork,” Filomena points out gently.

“I still don’t think it’s fair,” Hero says.

It’s difficult for her, I think – the three-year age gap between us can feel so big, and I know she sometimes feels excluded from our group.

“It’s much too hot to be studying,” she sighs. “I wish it would rain.”

“Rain,” Ursula repeats dreamily. “I remember rain.”

“It’s boring and hot,” says Hero again. “Oh, I wish that something would happen.”

Filomena is watching Hero and her expression is understanding. “Well, then there is nothing else for it,” she says, squeezing the girl’s arm. “Tonight, we must have a feast for Jupiter, God of thunderstorms, in the hope that we appease him and bring rain.”

Hero gasps.

“Truly, Filomena?” she says, her eyes bright. “A feast for Jupiter? Will there be a ritual? A blood sacrifice?”