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‘I’m sure Stella does. It’s a mother’s way. Valentina will be upset, but her mother will take care of her.’

He nodded. ‘Bye, Maria. Thanks for everything.’

‘You’re welcome. Thank you for risking your life for the people of Malta.’

‘Stay safe.’

She nodded and allowed him to kiss her cheek.

‘I’ll go to the Camilleris now to say farewell.’

He had done just that, catching Valentina’s parents in the small bar.

‘We will be sad to see you go,’ Stella had said in halting English, and Peter, now armed with the new insight from Maria, knew Valentina’s mother was probably lying but remained polite. ‘Is it for good?’

Blunt, he thought, but he knew she did not have the full range of the English vocabulary at her disposal to be more diplomatic.

‘I think so,’ he said, no wiser than she was. But it was surely what she needed to hear. Her dark eyes blinked once in acknowledgement.

It was Enriku’s turn. He gripped Peter’s arms. ‘We shall miss the food,’ he said, crunching his fingertips to his lips in a gesture of eating.

‘I shall make sure your family still receive food,’ he said, trying to make himself understood using simple words.

They both smiled in comprehension. ‘Thank you, thank you,’ the couple murmured together.

‘Say goodbye to the boys for me.’

They nodded. Stella pointed up the hill. ‘Our daughter will likely be at the cathedral tomorrow.’ She gave him a meaningful nod, making sure he heard her.

She knew about Valentina’s feelings all right.

Peter held her gaze. ‘I will see her then, after my work at the base, and tell her I’m leaving.’ Suddenly he couldn’t wait to be gone to London. ‘Goodbye. Keep yourselves safe,’ he said, and he had left, knowing he had a more difficult conversation ahead of him. He’d tried to rehearse what to say as he made his way to the cathedral, but everything sounded hollow in light of what he’d learned.

And now here he was, facing Valentina, his words hanging in the air.

‘What do you mean, leave?’ she said, her pretty face crinkling with confusion.

Tell her. Be direct. He could hear Nurse Maria’s voice and almost feel her hand shoving his back. ‘Er, well, I am returning to London,’ he said, and cleared his throat, glad to have those words out.

There was a horrible silence as though the whole world had stopped momentarily, and then all the sounds of Valletta returned. ‘What? Why?’ Her eyes, usually so vivid, had gone dull, her mouth downturned.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I’ve been recalled to England to help train new pilots. I don’t know much about the role, but they need me to start soon.’

‘How soon?’

‘Tomorrow.’ It wasn’t quite that soon – probably later in the week – but he was being emphatic, clear, as requested.

With that word, her features shut down even further.

‘But you can’t leave.’

He smiled, remembering the request to be gentle. ‘I have no choice, Valentina.’ In this he was being truthful.

‘But why now? You’re injured.’

He could see tears welling in her eyes, and he felt terrible that he was causing this pain. How dim he had been. How selfish too, to have been so carelessly preoccupied with the novelty of having an adoring young student to motivate after so long at war. He would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that her imagination and love for art and history had been an enjoyable repercussion of his death-defying acts in the air. Not only a hero for Valletta, but now one who inspired its youth.

‘I’m so sorry, Valentina. I don’t mean to upset you,’ he said, hearing how cold he sounded. He wanted to put an arm around her, and if this had been yesterday he might have, but not today, not now his eyes had been opened.