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‘No one would blame you for not realising. All our minds are focused on survival. But I mention it because Valentina Camilleri is quite a special child.’

He nodded. ‘She is incredibly intelligent. She surprised me with her maturity.’

‘This is the problem. Valentina is advanced for her age in so many ways. I’ve known her family for many years, watched her grow. She’s smarter than both of her brothers and all their friends put together. I’m not insulting the boys,’ she said, laughing. ‘They’re perfectly normal, but Valentina is different,’ she said, tapping at her temple. ‘She has ambition too.’

‘But this is all great, isn’t it? Her family must be proud?’ Peter smiled, thinking how proud he’d be to have a child like Valentina one day.

‘In their own way, I suppose, but they have other plans for her – marriage, family. And now here you are, distracting her from all of that.’

The smile faded and his features straightened. ‘But, Maria, I hope you don’t think⁠—’

‘I have no doubt that you have behaved as a perfect gentleman, Peter. But her feelings for you are clear, and you need to be very careful. A teenage girl’s heart is not to be played with.’

‘You think I’m playing with her heart?’ He was astonished, offended even.

‘No. Not deliberately. Not even consciously.’

‘But that’s preposterous. I’ve no involvement with her heart whatsoever. She told me about her upcoming marriage and how she wishes things were different, but mostly we talk about the Knights of Malta, the history of art and Spitfires. I promise you, we have become friends in the most innocent of ways.’ He turned away in frustration, looking at the passersby and wondering how he’d got himself into this situation.

‘Innocent to you, maybe.’

‘What?’ Turning back to face her, he spun on his heel awkwardly, which hurt, and he almost lost his balance.

She reached to steady him. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t mean to shock you.’

‘Well, you have, Maria. I’m… I’m lost for words.’

‘This is not really about you, Peter, but Valentina. She’s young – her head is filled with romantic ideas. She dreams of the future, and I pray all our children of Valletta get to at least try and fulfil their dreams. But she has romantic thoughts about the Knights of Malta and now she’s romantic about the brave Spitfire pilots like you, who fly out to protect us against the enemy. You’re her version of a knight. She watched you fight and then fall from the sky, and clearly she feels a special connection with you. And you’re easy to like, Peter. You look like Apollo with your height and golden hair and your big smile that comes so easily. Half the nurses are in love with you, so why wouldn’t an impressionable, romantic teenager fall in love too?’

He barely heard the compliments, feeling desperately awkward. ‘I had no idea. Truly.’

‘I know,’ she said, a hand on his arm. ‘It’s why I risked this chat. Please forgive me for interfering, but I think it’s a good thing that you’ve been recalled to London.’

‘Yes, I suppose.’

‘Let her down gently, won’t you? Perhaps you might give her something.’

‘Like what, for heaven’s sake?’ He didn’t mean to sound testy, but he was frustrated. He’d always carried himself with an honesty and uprightness he felt he could always depend on to be noticed, and he felt afloat in this situation.

‘A simple keepsake just for her. Perhaps you might tell her it represents friendship.’

‘Right.’ He ran a hand through his hair. She was making sense.

‘Affirm the friendship so she’s in no doubt. Maybe even tell her you’ve received a letter from your wife, who can’t wait for your return.’

He frowned. ‘That would be a lie.’

‘A small one only. It will help Valentina to get on with her life and perhaps not fall into a deep sadness when you’ve gone. But that’s the passion of the young – it has no boundaries or sense. Maybe you’ve forgotten?’ She gave him a kind, sympathetic smile. ‘I haven’t. Every emotion back then seemed so much more dramatic. When I got angry, I raged. When I cried, I was inconsolable. When I was happy, it was like the world was spinning for me.’

‘I can recall being rather self-absorbed,’ he admitted.

‘Well, maybe we Maltese are more dramatic.’ She laughed. ‘And Valentina is Maltese, so her feelings are big and bold. She would run away with you tomorrow and not look back.’

He blew out a breath. ‘Right, well, you’ve opened my eyes, Maria, and I’m grateful for that. I’m sorry to have been so insensitive.’

‘Be gentle with her when you say goodbye. Tell her parents first, if you can; let her mother be prepared.’

‘You think they know about Valentina’s feelings?’