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hospitality,’ he said, ‘but it’s time I put my son to bed.’
    ‘Stay and have some more wine,’ I said, reaching across the table for the bottle. I didn’t want him to take Jamie away.
    Neil said: ‘We normally finish with a Limoncello as a digestif . You’d be most welcome …’
    Alexander shook his head. He took a number of notes out of his wallet and put them on the table. May and Neil made a token protest, but he waved it away.
    ‘Thank you, all,’ he said. ‘It was a very pleasant evening.’
    He stood up, and as he did so he rested his hand on the bare skin of my upper arm and squeezed. He touched me for a moment; it was merely a ‘goodbye’ less formal than a handshake, less intimate than a kiss, and perhaps it was also a small gesture of solidarity. Either way, it moved something in me. It was only a tiny movement, like a leaf falling to the ground, but it was the first time in months that I felt myself relax a little. My body softened as if something hard and solid had been released from inside, and with the exorcism came a sense of relief. I wanted to sigh and lean forward and rest my head in my arms. I smiled up at Alexander.
    ‘Good night,’ I said softly.
    Alexander took the child in his arms, a bundle of skinny limbs, cropped hair and shoes that seemed far too big for his ankles, and he said good night.
    I watched him cross the garden and the hotel foyer, Jamie’s hand swinging like a flower in the wind beside his father’s thigh. The maître d’ opened the glass door into the hotel and Alexander passed through with a nod of thanks. I watched the light of the lift enclose them and the doors close behind them.
    May topped up our glasses and then put the empty bottle upside down in the cooler. We were quiet for a few moments.
    Then May said: ‘Poor little lad. He should’ve been tucked up hours ago.’
    ‘He’ll be OK,’ Neil said. ‘He’ll be right as rain in the morning.’
    He scraped some semi-molten wax from the base of the bottle that held the candle with his fingernail and moulded it between his fingers.
    ‘Alexander seems a decent sort,’ he said.
    May picked up her cardigan and pulled it around her shoulders.
    ‘Didn’t you think it was a bit awkward when Jamie saidthose things about his mother leaving? I didn’t know what to say.’
    ‘I expect it was Grandma Whatever-her-name-was putting ideas into his head,’ said Neil. ‘Some people always have to find someone else to blame.’
    May nodded. She glanced at me and glanced away again.
    ‘It’s a shame when families break up like that. Especially when there are little ones involved.’
    ‘Perhaps it’ll sort itself out in time,’ said Neil.
    ‘Perhaps. He didn’t want to talk about the wife though, did he?’
    ‘Maybe he’s been so hurt by her he doesn’t feel he can talk about her,’ I suggested.
    ‘Well, that’s a possibility, certainly,’ Neil said.
    ‘Definitely,’ said May.
    There was silence again. It felt as if our little private table-island were adrift, miles from anywhere.
    May pulled her cardigan tighter across her chest.
    ‘It’s a bit cooler tonight,’ she said. ‘Do you think the weather’s turning?’
    ‘Oh, I doubt it,’ said Neil.
    We all watched the candle flicker and die in the slightest of breezes and, as it did so, a chill ran through me.
    ‘Ooh,’ said May, giving me a little hug. ‘I felt that. Did somebody just walk on your grave?’

CHAPTER SIX
    I WAS UP early the next morning and in the pool by 7 a.m. Each time I reached the far end I promised myself that, when I turned, Alexander would be there, watching, but he wasn’t. There was no sign of either him or Jamie; only one of the gardeners was out, cleaning the paths. After thirty lengths I gave up and went back to my room to shower, and then May and I had a good breakfast of bread, cheese, fruit and coffee before queuing up in the foyer for the tour. Next to the volcanic Mount Etna, Taormina was the most famous