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She finally drew back. Her eyes were closed, her mouth slightly open as though savouring something before it was gone from her taste. ‘All these years and you’ve never kissed me like that.’

A smile creased at one corner of his mouth. ‘That’s because we don’t feel enough for each other. But I felt that. Goodbye, Delia. I want you to be happy.’

‘Will you miss me?’

‘No,’ he said, deciding to be honest. ‘Because I can’t miss something I’ve never truly had.’

‘Can’t you give me something?’ she bleated, looking downcast.

‘I did – that kiss, Delia. I meant it. I want you to go to Gordon with my blessing, and I hope he kisses you ten times more passionately to show you that you are loved and desired.’

She nodded, her eyes welling again. ‘I think I shall miss the sight of you.’

He shook his head. ‘I’m a mirage, Delia. Gordon is real.’

‘I wonder who is real for you, Peter,’ she said, reaching to touch his cheek again.

He shrugged. ‘I’m going to pack.’

‘I think I shall go to the back garden. I don’t want to see you leave.’ She paused, meeting his gaze. ‘And then I’ll call Gordon.’

He nodded. ‘Promise me you’ll call him first, before speaking to your mother. Wait until you and Gordon are settled on your plan, because she’ll try to derail you, Delia. But you’re in control now. Go find love.’

‘Will you?’

He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Maybe there’s someone out there for me, but it doesn’t matter. I was always just fine alone.’

‘All right. I shall call you at the club as you say.’

‘Don’t rush.’

‘Yes, all right. I have a lot of correspondence to make with all my various committees.’

‘Tell them nothing until you’re ready, Delia. Give a white lie if you must. Those people thrive on gossip. I’m immune to it, but I don’t want you feeling embarrassed. Our decision today is mature and brave and worthy of us. And now you’ve got a chance to live a happy life in the arms of someone who adores you.’ He kissed her on the cheek and went upstairs, hearing the back door of the house closing as he did so. He looked down from the window on the second landing to see his wife pulling on her gardening gloves and a straw hat again, then walking slowly down the back path and out of his life. He wondered if she was crying. He hoped not. He was not worth crying over.

He packed fast. He didn’t need much, never had, and within half an hour of dissolving his marriage – verbally, at least – he was walking down the hill towards Bath Spa railway station.

There was a fresh battle going on in which the city councillors were at war with each other about the need to restore the city after the wartime blitz. Bath had been singled out by the Germans in 1942 for what had become known as the Baedeker Raids as revenge for bombings in Germany. The Luftwaffe had wanted to descend on all the cathedral cities to break the spirit of the British. Bath, with its long history going back to the Romans, had been an obvious target with its significant cultural and historical landmarks.

Its glorious Georgian architecture, the houses in the grand crescents and the famous Circus were destroyed. Queen Square, the Francis Hotel and the Assembly Rooms all suffered badly too. And because these grand buildings of such historical heritage were synonymous with the city, there was now a struggle; a push and pull between the need to restore, or to rebuild in the modern style.

The city was slowly finding its feet again despite this, and the milder weather helped, so for some hardy people there were picnics in the park as he strode by. The further he moved away from Delia and towards the train that would whisk him to London, the more Peter felt as though invisible chains around his heart were falling away like a ship slipping its mooring, heading out to open sea. In front of him on the horizon there was nothing but space, with perfect freedom and possibility all around him.

And he knew exactly in which direction to head.

THIRTEEN

APRIL 1954

Valletta, Malta

Valentina Falzon walked next to her son, who was controlling a football with his feet while also keeping up a stream of conversation: could she see the monster’s head in the cloud over there, and wouldn’t it be great for them to travel to Rome, and might he someday become a top football player and play for Floriana in the Maltese First Division?

She answered each of his queries with full consideration as they made their way towards the meeting point where he would be leaving for a football match today. ‘Well, you would surely want to play for Valletta, wouldn’t you?’

He looked at her with scepticism. ‘They don’t win much.’

She laughed. ‘They will.’