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She sat back on her heels and looked at him. ‘I don’t know, Peter, maybe something that fills me with a tiny bit of optimism. Or maybe you might surprise me by saying that you won’t leave. That Lawrenz will not return from France. That⁠—’

‘Valentina,’ he began, gripping her arm more tightly. As she looked down at it, he let go as if stung. ‘I can’t say any of those things.’

‘You could. You⁠—’

‘You just insisted I be honest,’ he said, looking injured. ‘I don’t know what you want me to say.’

‘Something brave, like the pilot I remember,’ she snapped, then stood, gathering up the last of the picnic things. ‘Come on, Danjel,’ she called.

‘Aren’t you going to stay and watch the sunset?’ Peter asked, his tone just short of a bleat.

‘I can see this anytime, Peter. You forget, I’m stuck here. These sunrises and sunsets are about as beautiful as my life will ever be. I have nothing more to look forward to than another forty years of sunsets right here. So you go home to your lonely life, with all the freedom in the world. And I’ll see you next time some coincidence brings you to Malta, although I can’t imagine you needing to come again. Danjel! Let’s go.’ She walked away.

‘Isn’t Peter coming?’ Danjel asked her, after running to catch up.

She took her son’s arm. ‘No, darling. He’s got things on his mind,’ she said, and kissed his cheek. She used to kiss the top of his head, but she couldn’t reach that any more.

Soon Danjel would be leaving her too.

Peter watched the retreating figures of Valentina and Danjel, feeling deeply stung by her words.

He turned back to the horizon and watched the sun’s light disappear. The setting sun had turned the limestone of the city above him a burnished pinkish orange. It reminded him of a sunrise at the height of the war, when he’d stood alongside his military superior, both of them injured, smoking a cigarette and watching another savage day dawn, another day of battle that neither of them could participate in. A decision had been made that morning that had changed the trajectory of his life, stopping his days as a fighter pilot for good. And that’s all it had taken; someone saying something to make him think along a different path.

He didn’t know what Valentina wanted of him. Well, that wasn’t strictly true. He imagined she wanted him to whisk her away from here, but that would create a mountain of fresh problems. But did that matter? Life always had obstacles; it was how one approached them that mattered. There was usually a way to get past them, as long as you weren’t too risk-averse to face them head on.

Valentina’s problems began and ended with Lawrenz, so before she could create any sort of new life, she first had to find the courage to walk away from him. But that was easy for him to say. Even with Valentina’s parents gone, there was pressure on her to remain in her marriage, for better or for worse. She was Catholic. Her community would frown upon her if she left, even if they knew how Lawrenz hurt her.

Peter let out a growl under his breath, looking out at the Mediterranean that had once tried to swallow him.

It was Valentina who wouldn’t let that happen. That young girl had run the length and height of the city to ensure he was saved. And now it was his turn to save her – he mustn’t let her be swallowed by the life that was not of her making.

He shook his head helplessly. Was he just being benevolent? He barely knew this woman, not really. Was it even his place to step in?

But he’d kissed her. He’d kissed Valentina like a man in love, and opened them both up to this impossible situation. Why had he done that, when he’d just freed himself from a complicated marriage? There was a child involved, for goodness’ sake. What was wrong with him?

It was obvious. He was in love with her.

Peter sighed, letting that sink in. Aren’t you meant to be a dashing hero? The man who flies directly into the face of danger, of fear… of death? Make it right, he told himself, as he stared into the darkening skies.

Back home, Valentina sat alone at the kitchen table, nursing a coffee and feeling as low as she could recall since Lawrenz had gone. The high of seeing Peter again, of their lovely picnic with Danjel, had made the drop in mood so much worse when she’d discovered that her hero just couldn’t seem to give her what she needed.

The problem, she realised, was that what she wanted was an impossible dream. Could she even articulate it? It wasn’t necessarily to live happily ever after with Peter – that might be nice, but she wanted so much more than that. She wanted something for herself – something besides being a wife and a mother… something akin to what the Queen had suggested might be possible for her. A world outside of Valletta and everything she’d known.

After all the excitement of the last week, it was only to be expected that there’d be a ‘coming down’ from the joy. Or was that just an excuse she was giving herself? Once Peter left in a day or so, what was her life going to feel like? She’d glimpsed her heaven, tasted it, touched it… and now hell was approaching again. Lawrenz would return eventually, and she knew exactly what that looked like.

Valentina lifted her cup to sip the cold coffee and then banged it down noisily. Do something to help yourself, a voice screamed in her head.

What can I do? she asked it. What power do I have?

Are you waiting for a man to change your life? the inner voice jeered. How has that gone so far for you? Peter left you once and he’s about to leave you again… and both times he’ll have broken your heart. Are you hoping he’ll carry you away in his arms? He won’t! He doesn’t know what to do, so he’ll do nothing. Do you think he would have even kissed you if you hadn’t moved all the pieces on the chessboard to make it possible?

He made the move though, she recalled.

But only because you’d made it safe, made it possible, gave him all the signs that you wouldn’t push him away, the voice said. He might be fearless in a cockpit, but he doesn’t know how to commit.

Peter must have frustrated his wife, Valentina thought, feeling a flicker of sympathy for her, though it didn’t last. She suspected Delia had never loved him enough to really try, or maybe she didn’t know how he needed to be loved.

Valentina knew. She was sure she did, but first she needed to stop hoping that he would solve her problems. He didn’t know how to say what he wanted or what he felt. And right now, she was still another man’s wife.