She paused for thought, rocking with the train as they rumbled over points, watching the landscape change to apartments and office blocks, billboards advertising private medical care and vodka. She hadn’t deliberately withheld the news about the interview during phone conversations since she’d been here. It was more that she’d wanted to talk about Italy, starry nights and happy things. She replied: I’m on my way to a job interview in London. Should be home this evening. x

A pause in communications. She wondered whether he needed time to absorb the information or if he was just busy. Finally, as the train slowed for Victoria in a grey, tunnel-like closing in of buildings and glass, she received: Have you decided to return to the UK permanently? x

She answered honestly: Don’t have a choice from mid-September. The rules say I can’t stay in Italy past then and I’ll need income. Living in Italy would require a longer-term strategy. x She grabbed her bag as the platform glided up alongside the window and the train jerked to a halt, making passengers already on their feet stagger. When the doors opened, she joined the flow of people alighting. Victoria Station’s roof of curved metalwork and transparent sections seemed lower than usual and the announcements about trains and security boomed too loudly. She halted, hunting out her phone again despite the tuts and tsks of hurrying commuters forced to skirt her. She reopened the conversation with Piero and texted: Thinking about you, too. x, then she rejoined the noisy flood, jostling elbow-to-elbow through the chrome barriers then picking up speed as she plunged from the station into an even noisier London, hustling along the crowded streets to Lower Belgrave Street.

She found Headley Whiterow in a gracious Edwardian building of tawny brick with bow windows behind black railings. At the top of the steps Zia was buzzed into a white and grey reception area. A young guy with brown curly hair showed her to Elise’s office.

‘I’m so excited about this!’ Elise cried, long blonde hair and short skirt making her look like a little girl who’d got into her mum’s clothes and make-up. From that effusive greeting to her introductions around the bright, comfortable offices, everything about the Headley Whiterow setup seemed perfect. Even the directors Tim and Aneka, who welcomed her in a conference room of squishy leather chairs and a walnut table, seemed as if they’d be good to work with.

‘Elise speaks highly of you,’ said Tim, taking off his jacket, perhaps to demonstrate that they were already comfortable with her.

‘We trust her to handpick exactly the right person for the role in our highly effective team,’ added Aneka, who wore enormous black-framed glasses as if she were an emoji of someone trying to look clever.