Two weeks later, and Grace could barely believe her own eyes. The view before her as she stepped out of the aeroplane in Italy was breathtaking. On the horizon, rising majestically over the rooftop of the airport, were lush green hills dotted with traditional white brick houses nestling amongst cypress trees and olive groves. The warmth from the dazzling morning sun as it drenched the bare skin on her arms was like a balm for her soul, instantly uplifting and lightening her mood as she near glided down the staircase and onto the tarmac.

And it was incredible how she had stopped counting steps. She had first become conscious of this as she walked to the departure gate at London’s Heathrow, having stopped off in duty free to treat herself to some new make-up, a pair of sunglasses, a couple of bikinis and a divine, coconutty-smelling sun cream especially formulated for redheads with fair, freckly skin, figuring she might get to do some sunbathing … when she wasn’t busy searching for Connie’s relatives, of course. Her counsellor had said this might happen: that once she was distanced from her everyday life and away from what her subconscious detected as constraint – in other words, caring full time for a controlling mother was grinding her down – then she might flourish and no longer seek the security of counting steps. And so she was delighted to discover that he had been entirely right in his prediction.

Grace felt unencumbered and free for the first time in a very, very long time, certainly since she had moved back into her childhood home after the break-up with Matthew. But that was in the past and she was determined to focus on the here and the now in glorious, sumptuous, romantic and stunningly beautiful Italy. She was here for six days and fully intended on making the most of this wonderful, generous gift that lovely, kind Larry and Betty had given her. Not to mention the generous gift that Jamie was giving her by minding Cora – which reminded her, she must call him to make sure all was OK. Or should she? Jamie had been adamant last night when he came round to wish her a good trip that she should not call, saying he wanted her to have a proper break and would be in touch if disaster struck, which was extremely unlikely given that he was an experienced nurse. And, well … ‘I could always confiscate her telly remote control if she gives me too much grief,’ he had added to lighten the mood when Grace had wobbled and very nearly started unpacking her suitcase, worried that Cora would just be too much for him with her continuous calls for attendance throughout the nights.

After collecting her suitcase, Grace headed to the arrivals section of the airport where she was due to meet Ellis before travelling with him to the little Airbnb townhouse they were to share whilst here in Venice overnight. Betty had told her all about it being right next to the water with a tiny balcony, and Grace couldn’t wait to get there and see it for herself. Then tomorrow afternoon they were going to take the train to Santa Margherita to see where Connie had lived in the powder pink villa on the hillside. Betty had said the train trip looked like the nicest way for them to travel, as they’d get to sit back and enjoy a picture-postcard tour of the Italian scenery along the way.

The rest of their time in Italy would be spent talking to neighbours and going to the jeweller’s in Portofino too. She had also stumbled upon the name of the powder pink villa from a photo of Connie standing by the majestic front entrance where there was a ceramic name plaque mounted on the wall. Casa di Donato. So they would ask around until they found somebody who knew exactly where the villa was. And there were still lots of diaries that hadn’t been read yet, which Grace had painstakingly copied onto her laptop, so a long train journey would provide the perfect opportunity to read through them.

Walking through the crowd, Grace experienced a moment of anxiety when she couldn’t see Ellis, but then her face broke into an enormous grin of relief on spotting him looking every inch like a suave local in shades, chino shorts, loafers and an open-necked striped polo short with the sleeves rolled up, accentuating his caramel-coloured tan. Somehow, he looked different, standing here in the airport in Italy. Sort of radiant and more handsome, but then Grace supposed somewhere as beautiful as Italy would make everyone and everything seem more attractive and airbrushed. Plus she was relaxed and happy and that always had a wonderful effect on her perception.

Ellis was holding up a piece of black card with the words Grace Quinn Benvenuta a Venezia printed on in purple ink.

‘You made it, Grace,’ he said, his American accent sounding even stronger when mingled with the lyrical Italian language being spoken all around them as the other travellers greeted their loved ones. Waggling the card in the air, Ellis stepped forward to embrace her with a kiss on each cheek. Grace reciprocated, liking the quick burst of citrusy lemon scent that emanated from him and filled her senses. It was rejuvenating and upbeat, and much like her current mood.

‘I did, and thanks for the lovely welcome,’ she said, touching the card in his right hand, thinking what a sweet gesture it was.

‘Ah, this! Well, I figured … when in Rome—’

‘Do as the Romans do,’ she said, laughing, and then added, ‘but we’re not even in Rome.’

‘Sure, I know that, even if I do spend most of my time in the auction house peering through a magnifying glass authenticating valuable artwork,’ he laughed along, making his shoulders bob up and down and his hair flop into his toffee-coloured eyes. ‘But we are near enough to Rome; it’s the same land mass at least.’ And as he tilted his head and gently tapped her arm with the piece of card, Grace couldn’t help seeing and thinking how attractive he was, and it made her stomach do a little flip. Do I fancy him? But then she quickly pushed the thought away for she wasn’t one of those women. The Perky Yoga One had been one of those women. Matthew had told Grace that he had ‘been honest’ with the Perky Yoga One right from the start, telling her that he was in a relationship and engaged to be married, but it ‘hadn’t put her off’. For crying out loud. And Ellis has a girlfriend, a very confident, trusting one, as I’m not sure how I would feel knowing he was having a holiday with another woman in Italy, aka quite possibly the most romantic place in the world. And as if to confirm this, a man strumming a ukulele strolled up to them and started singing.

‘Per gli amanti’ and then translating in English, ‘for the lovers’, at which point Grace felt her whole body flush, right from the tips of her toes up to the top of her head, even making her scalp tingle. Especially when Ellis played up to the man’s assumption by swiftly taking her in his arms and tilting her backwards into a classic embrace, making her left leg pop up like they do in the old movies she loved so much. And for one breathtaking moment, Grace indulged herself in a teasing role-play by smiling and laughing to the clapping crowd, who clearly thought they were a properly loved-up couple.

‘Come on, you,’ Ellis grinned, his face mere millimetres from her as he eventually let her go. Then, after hoisting her suitcase onto a nearby trolley, the moment vanished, leaving Grace feeling discombobulated … Ellis might be out of bounds, but there was no harm in a little flirtatious fantasy inside her head, was there? ‘Let’s find the speed boat.’

‘Speed boat?’ Grace gasped, feeling another frisson of excitement. She’d never been on a speed boat. The ferry from Holyhead to Ireland as a child one cold Christmas was the extent of her sailing experience, and so there really was no comparison.

‘Yep, that’s right. The water taxi will take us from here to Venice. The dock is at the end of that covered walkway over there.’ And he indicated with his head in the direction they needed to take.

‘Well, fancy that!’ Grace beamed, popping on her sunglasses and falling into step alongside Ellis as he led the way through the crowds.