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‘You don’t look old enough to have a son that age,’ he remarked. ‘But in less than a decade, he’ll certainly be old enough to travel the globe to continue his studies, his work. If he’s serious, he’ll need a mentor, someone who has years of expertise in his specialty. I can help. I know people.’

‘Thank you,’ she said, feeling choked.

‘It would be my pleasure. What does his father think?’

She turned away. ‘I must go,’ she said, looking at her watch.

‘Oh, no, must you?’

‘Er, yes, I’ve finished for the day.’ As much as she loved talking about Caravaggio, this was too much; she didn’t know how to talk to him about her own life, her son.

‘Won’t you have a coffee with me? Or perhaps a walk?’

‘I start work at the bar at five.’

He glanced at his watch. ‘Then you have nearly two hours. Please. A coffee… or do you drink now? Perhaps a cocktail?’

‘Haven’t you got work here? The royal visit…’

‘It can wait. My gosh, Valentina!’ He said her name as though it were a battle cry. ‘We have years to catch up on.’

There it was, she thought, once the waitress had brought their drinks, watching his smile break fully. As they sat at the outdoor café looking out at the sea, her heart felt as though it was splitting along the cracks that had formed all those years ago as that beautiful bright face warmed what she thought must be cold scar tissue in her heart. Who would have thought that just his smile could hold such power.

Valentina was only now beginning to recover from the shock of his presence, the confusion of his words. Beautiful, he’d called her. Breathtaking. Her? She felt drab in cleaning clothes, and she unconsciously smoothed her skirt with clammy hands. How was it that she was sipping a lemonade in the sunshine opposite the only man she had ever loved?

‘Tell me about you, Valentina. All the years I’ve been away. I want to hear about your life.’

She looked down, shaking her head. ‘No, you can see how my life is. Very ordinary and colourless. You first. How is your wife?’

He shrugged, looking momentarily tense and then something in him relaxed and he shrugged off his jacket, rolled up his shirtsleeves and loosened his tie. ‘My marriage has been a tremendous disappointment, if I’m being totally honest. We’ve actually separated now. It’s recent, but it was a long time coming.’

She hadn’t expected that, knew it was wrong to feel the spike of pleasure at hearing this.

‘It was my failing, Valentina, not Delia’s. We were never a good match, had nothing in common. But I failed her through lack of care, lack of consideration, lack of companionship. I allowed her parents to push us into a marriage I never really wanted.’

Valentina knew this sentiment all too well, though she hadn’t thought it could happen to people older than she had been.

‘She is not interested in the royal artworks?’

He gave a laugh that sounded not only ironic but sad. ‘No. She would have preferred me to work alongside the royals themselves, because that would mean access to the kind of social circles she might only dream of. In fact, I think she’d feel rather cross right now to know I’m on a mission that will bring me into the orbit of the royal family. She’ll never forgive me for not bringing her.’

‘She was your wife for a long time. Why didn’t you?’

He sipped, staring out towards the sea. ‘Two reasons. I’d already left our marriage before I asked to make this trip. Our separation was so new I didn’t feel we could have made this visit together. But…’

Valentina waited, surprised by his honesty. ‘But?’

‘The second reason. Which is selfish and I’m embarrassed to say aloud.’

‘It’s only me,’ she offered.

‘Only you. Little Valentina who used to hang on my every word.’ He sighed. ‘The second reason is that Malta is mine.’ He gave a brief chuckle, looking awkward. ‘It holds a very special place in my heart. When I was here before, it was a time of such rage and torment and death, and yet I can’t remember a time in my life when I felt more alive. The colours, the smells, the food, the people, the role I was playing, and yes, even the danger of it… it all made me feel so connected to this place.’

‘Do you not love your home?’

‘I do. My actual home is a wonderful old building in a place called Somerset. It stands three storeys and was built in the 1700s. Ivy… do you know what that is?’

‘The holly and the ivy…’ she began to sing and then laughed self-consciously. She barely recognised the sound of her voice so happy, let alone singing.