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‘It’s been neglected,’ Valentina admitted, ‘but Malta is still recovering. Its time will come. For now I’m happy that few bother to visit.’

‘Did you know this used to be known as the Lovers’ Garden?’ Maria asked.

Danjel laughed, while Valentina blushed, hoping Maria wouldn’t notice, though she was sure the older woman was toying with her. Peter was the only one who remained impassive in his expression.

‘I didn’t,’ Valentina said.

‘Oh yes. It was here that military men would meet their local lovers,’ she said, eyeing Peter and Valentina. ‘I’m surprised you never came here, Peter, though I suppose it was mostly sailors who knew about it. It was quite the secret meeting place.’

The innuendo went right over Danjel’s head, Valentina was relieved to see.

‘I come here to read sometimes,’ Danjel said, ‘and to imagine what it must have been like centuries ago when the Knights lived here and Caravaggio was sailing in for the first time.’

Valentina smiled. Her son was just like she had been, dreaming of times past.

‘Caravaggio was on the run,’ Peter said, as Valentina glared at her friend, who seemed to find her discomfort hilarious. ‘I doubt he would have been taking much notice of the glorious surrounds as we are today.’

‘Look, there’s the ferry coming in!’ Danjel stood and pointed towards the wall that surrounded the city. No one got up to join him; they’d all seen it many times before from different vantages. ‘I wonder what it must be like to travel far away,’ he continued, sounding suddenly wistful.

‘Would you like to?’ Peter asked, glancing Valentina’s way. She gave him a look of gentle admonishment as she handed out plates from her basket and unpacked the food. She had fresh pastizzi, still warm, bread and cheese, and the four of them reached for the food happily.

‘Yes, of course,’ Danjel said, almost scornful. ‘I dream of travelling the world.’ He bit into a pastizz.

Valentina turned to him. ‘You’ve never told me that before.’

He finished chewing his mouthful before saying, ‘You’ve never asked me.’ It was a simple comment, delivered evenly.

‘Would you like to study abroad, Danjel?’ Peter asked, tearing off a piece of bread to eat with cheese.

‘Yes!’ he said. ‘I would love that.’

‘Why would you want to leave all this, Danjel?’ Maria asked. She had poured glasses of her freshly made lemonade and now handed them around.

‘Because I am curious about life in other places, and about history.’

‘What do you think you’ll discover?’ Valentina asked, genuinely interested.

‘I don’t know, Mama. Isn’t that the point? I want to learn history elsewhere and about lots of other places – it will make me a better historian, I’m sure. I want to discover more art too… see it for myself.’

‘Danjel, sometimes you speak like someone who is twenty years older than you are.’ Valentina laughed, then looked at him in earnest. ‘So you would feel all right about leaving here?’

Danjel looked as though he didn’t want to answer, but after an awkward pause, he said, ‘Yes, I would leave. But I don’t want to leave you. Perhaps that’s how you feel too, Mama, or…’ He didn’t finish and instead turned to look out to sea again.

Valentina looked Peter’s way. ‘From the mouth of babes,’ he murmured.

‘I know this psalm,’ Valentina said. ‘And how true it is.’

‘Most people your age, Danjel, want to fit in and be like everyone else around them,’ Maria said, sounding amused.

‘Not me. I don’t fit in anyway.’

‘What do you mean?’ Maria looked at him baffled.

Danjel turned and kicked at a stone. ‘I’m not like my friends.’

‘Why don’t you fit in?’ Peter said.

Danjel gave a shrug. ‘I don’t know. I think I’m perhaps too serious at times. My interests don’t…’ He searched for the right word, making a stirring gesture with his hand as he said it in Maltese.