She looked more closely. ‘The Maldives are so beautiful,’ she said. ‘The sand is the whitest you can ever imagine and so unbelievably fine. It’s like walking on flour.’

‘Have you actually been?’ I asked, all my embarrassment at having been caught with my little pictures gone. ‘I don’t know anyone that’s been outside Europe. What’s it like?’

‘Well,’ said Clio. ‘I haven’t been to that specific island. The whole country is just lots of tiny islands like this one. I forget the name of the one I went to.’

I couldn’t believe it. Fancy going to somewhere as beautiful as that and then not bothering to remember the name of it. If I ever got a chance to go I’d know the square metreage, the population figures and probably the name of the man who drove the taxi – not that there were any taxis. Boat then.

‘But yes,’ Clio continued. ‘It was just like that. We had one of those little houses on stilts over the sea.’

‘What happens when the tide comes in?’ I asked. I’d often wondered about that. If I were to build a little house on the beach at the end of our road it would be underwater twice a day.

‘I didn’t think about that,’ said Clio and she screwed her face up while she tried to remember. ‘I’m not sure there really was a tide, not like we have here anyway. The sea pretty much stayed where it was. It was so warm, though. It’s literally like swimming in a bath. And the fish! Tiny little darty things in the brightest colours you’ve ever seen and then big ones too. And turtles. I even saw some sharks when we were diving.’

‘You went diving? Scuba diving? Wow! What was that like?’

Clio paused as she searched for words. ‘It’s just incredible. The water is so warm that you don’t need a wetsuit and the reefs are totally unspoiled. It’s just you and the fish and the sound of the coral popping and your breathing in your ears. You must go.’

Yeah right, I thought, but I didn’t say anything because I could tell she meant well.

Clio looked at my other pictures, all postcard sized and framed in cheap frames that I’d picked up from Ikea. She nodded as she identified them in turn. ‘Paris, Sydney, Niagara Falls, Red Square. I’ve not been there. I really don’t fancy it. I’ve never quite trusted the Russians since I read Gorky Park. Have you read it?’

I shook my head, hoping it looked like I’d read loads of books but just hadn’t read that particular one.

‘Well, don’t if you’re planning to visit. So is this like a bucket list?’