When she eventually did die the idea of organizing either a burial or cremation felt like rubbing salt into newly exposed wounds. Both seemed barbaric and cruel. Either burying her in the ground or burning what remained – it didn’t seem fair. I knew she was gone, that only her body was still on earth, but all I wanted to do was take care of her. Fix her.

There’s no mending the dead.

Pia’s parents came to our flat in the end and took the decision out of my hands. Unlike my own family, who for religious reasons always buried, Pia’s family leaned heavily towards cremation. She was their little girl, their child, and I decided to follow their wishes. As a result I’ve had Pia placed on top of the fireplace in an ugly urn ever since, like she’s just another ornament I’ve collected in life. Every time I’ve caught sight of her perching there my chest has tightened, uncomfortable with her remaining confined when she deserves to be free, as free as the wind, as Patrick Swayze would say.

‘On Pia’s birthday, the night we started planning this, I went back home and saw Pia’s ashes sitting on top of the fireplace. I wanted desperately to talk to her, to tell her that we were doing it, we were doing as she asked and all going on an adventure together. So I took her and placed her on the coffee table,’ I say, taking a breath as Zaza reaches across and touches my knee. ‘I sat next to her and I tried to talk. I tried to think of her in there like a little genie or something, sitting there waiting to hear my voice. I couldn’t talk. Nothing was coming out,’ I say, aware of a tear falling. The sight of which sets both Vicky and Zaza off. ‘I suddenly realized that her being trapped in there isn’t something I wanted. Not Pia. She’s not a little genie or even a borrower, she’s Pia. Fun-loving Pia who loved the world and everything in it, who wanted to explore and absorb as much of life as she possibly could.’

I pause, pulling a Tupperware box from my bag.

‘So I’ve brought Pia with me,’ I say.

‘Oh my,’ whispers Vicky.

‘Some of her,’ I correct myself. ‘I know this trip means something different to each of us, that we’ve all needed it for different reasons, but there’s one person to thank for us being here.’

‘Absolutely,’ agrees Zaza, a solemn expression on her face.

I nod and look down at my wife’s ashes. ‘I want to take her everywhere – places we’ve been, places we wanted to go. I want her to be a part of my adventures to come.’