They did so, with her sitting and him lying with his head on her leg.

‘I could stay like this for ever,’ he said blissfully.

‘Me, too.’

‘It’s how we used to be.’

‘And now we’ve got it back,’ she murmured. ‘How could we have been so careless?’

‘We never will be again. In future we’ll-’ he made a vague gesture ‘-discuss things rationally.’

She chuckled. ‘Shall I give you lessons in that?’

‘Oi, cheeky!’

‘Rationally!’ she mocked. ‘You wouldn’t recognise rational discussion if it bopped you on the nose.’

‘OK, you may have to give me a few lessons, but we’ll get there. I’m not going to lose you a second time just because-Oh, hell!’

The last remark was jerked from him by the ringing of the telephone.

‘If that’s Sandro, just let me speak to him for five seconds,’ Francesco begged.

‘It won’t be, I promise.’ Celia reached for the phone, which was on a small table at the end of the sofa. ‘Hallo? Ciao, Mario.’

Suddenly she sounded pleased, and Francesco’s head rose from her leg in query.

‘Journalist,’ she mouthed. ‘He was there this afternoon.’

‘Then he should have talked to you this afternoon.’

‘He did. Mario, it’s not a good time…oh, I see…when’s your deadline? All right, just five minutes, as long as you promise me a great story. And Sandro, of course…he had a great time, so he told me afterwards…oh, yes, green with envy…my turn soon. But I may jump from a helicopter, or a balloon. That way we cover the whole range…yes, you can say that. And there’s one other thing-’

After a few moments she hung up, aware that something had changed. It wasn’t just that Francesco’s head had vanished from her leg. The atmosphere was suddenly spiky and dangerous.

‘What is it?’ she asked, feeling for him.

‘You just said that to make a good story, right? About jumping? You’re not going to do that.’

After a brief silence she said, ‘Are you asking me or telling me?’ Her voice was quiet, but suddenly it had an edge.

‘Cara, please! Let’s not go into this again. We said it would be different this time. You’ve had your fun. You’ve turned me white haired with fear often enough-’

‘Had my fun?’ she echoed, aghast. ‘Is that how you see it?’

‘I’ve heard you call it fun.’

‘Among other things. Sure, it’s fun, but that’s not why I live as I do. It’s because I won’t be pigeonholed as “disabled”-by you or anyone else.’

‘All right,’ he said, making a belated attempt to stop the world disintegrating a second time. ‘But you’ve done those things, and I’ve put up with-accepted it. Surely it’s time to-that is, we’ve talked and I thought you understood-’

‘You mean, you thought I’d given in,’ she said slowly.

‘I thought you’d seen reason-No, I didn’t mean that-’

‘Why not? It’s honest. I don’t mind you saying things like that. What I mind is your assumption that if I dare to disagree with you I’m off my head. Well, I do disagree, and it’s time you saw reason.’

With disaster looming on the road ahead Francesco tried-he really tried-to avoid it. But stark terror was taking him over again, as so often in the past, making him forget everything he’d learned.

‘It isn’t reasonable for you to carry on like this,’ he snapped. ‘One day you’ll get killed. Am I supposed to just shrug and say, “Oh, well, it doesn’t matter?” If I protest it’s because I love you.’

‘But with you love becomes control,’ Celia cried. ‘It’s not just dangerous things, it’s everything. You never felt that I had the right to my own life.

I won’t be treated as someone who can’t do what other people take for granted. Above all I won’t have you telling me what I can and can’t do. Oh, God, why are we talking like this-again?’

Her voice rose to a shriek as the truth hit her. It struck him, too, in the same moment. Aghast, they regarded the ruin that had come upon them so suddenly.

‘Look,’ he said at last, ‘let’s forget this. We don’t know what we’re saying. Before the phone rang-’

‘We were living in a fool’s paradise,’ she exclaimed in despair. ‘But it couldn’t have lasted. This was always going to happen.’

‘I won’t admit that loving each other is a fool’s paradise,’ he said stubbornly.

She gave a bleak little laugh. ‘It could be-for some people. Shouldn’t we just admit it?’

‘That’s a terrible thing to say. It’s like saying there’s no such thing as love.’

‘Perhaps it’s just one of those things I can’t do the way other people do,’ she said bitterly. ‘Maybe you were right about that, and it’s time I listened. Diving in water or out of planes-fine! But a normal human relationship is beyond me-because it has to be on the terms I lay down, and they’re too harsh for other people. Or maybe just too selfish. After all, what have I said? That you’ve got to let me do what I want all the time? Even I can hear the selfishness in that, but anything else suffocates me.’

‘Don’t talk like that,’ he said violently. ‘You’re not selfish. It’s just that I-Oh, let’s just forget it.’

‘How can we when it’s always there?’

She turned away to hide the fact that she was beginning to cry, and he immediately reached out, trying to hold on to her.

‘Cara, please-’

‘Let me go.’

She pulled herself out of his grasp and turned away, not heeding where she was going. The next moment she’d collided with the doorjamb and reeled back.

‘Celia-’

‘No, no. I’m all right.’

‘You’re not all right. Your lip’s bleeding. Come here.’

She seemed ready to fight him, but then she gave up and let him lead her to the sofa and make her sit down.

‘It’s nothing,’ she said. ‘I often bump into things.’

He shook his head. ‘No, you don’t,’ he said in despair. ‘I’ve never seen it happen before. It was my fault. I’m so sorry-’

‘It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t push me. It was an accident. Francesco, please, please-why must you take every little thing to heart?’

‘I don’t know. It’s just that-’ He shook his head, as though by this means he could clear his confusion. ‘I’ve always been that way, but suddenly I became worse, and it’s grown out of control and made a monster of me.’

‘You’re not a monster,’ she hastened to say.

‘No, just a man it suffocates you to live with. And perhaps even I am beginning to see why. I guess I’ve turned into a bully again, haven’t I?’

‘Francesco, please, I never said you were a bully-’

‘Not tonight. But the last time-when we broke up.’

‘You remember that?’

‘I remember every word. I’m even glad now that you said it.’

‘It was cruel and untrue-’

‘No, it was cruel and true. Which means it wasn’t cruel at all. It needed saying. You’d been thinking it for a long time and biting it back-’

‘No-’

‘Celia, carissima, you’ve always been honest to the point of brutality, and I mean that as compliment. Don’t weaken now. That night-when we came home after your dive and we quarrelled-you didn’t say bully like someone who’d just thought of it. You said it like someone who’d been suppressing it for ages. If there’s anything to regret, it’s that you didn’t say it before. We might have-‘

He broke off. The thought was too painful to put into words.

‘Yes,’ she said huskily. ‘We might have managed better. Who knows?’

In the silence he reached out his hand and touched her hair very gently. She turned her head at once, so that her cheek brushed his palm, and for a moment they stayed like that, aching with memory.

He was almost sure that he felt a touch of moisture on his hand, but he didn’t ask if she were crying. He was afraid of breaking the spell.

‘Celia…’ was as much as he dared to say, in a voice no louder than a murmur.

She raised her head so that she was facing him, and he couldn’t believe that she was blind. It was all there in her eyes-everything they’d had, everything they’d lost. And he knew that it must be in his own eyes, as well. She couldn’t see it, but surely she would know? Because she knew everything.

He longed to comfort her, to promise that he’d make everything all right for her. But how could he when what was wrong was himself?

He’d dreamed of finding a miracle, but now, reluctantly, he had to recognise that there were no miracles. The time had come to free her for the better life she would find without him.

‘Carissima,’ he said softly, ‘let us talk.’

‘Not yet,’ she said in a muffled voice. ‘Please, not yet.’

So she knew. Of course she did. Perhaps she’d come to Naples for him, hoping that they might have a second chance. She’d never told him that, but a thousand things had made him hope. Now he knew hope was futile, and so did she.

‘Not yet,’ she repeated.

‘No,’ he murmured. ‘Not yet. We can have a little more time.’

A little time to hope for the miracle that would never happen. A little time before the pain would have to be faced. Finally.

He went into the bathroom and came out with a damp flannel to clean the graze on her lip. A tiny bruise was just beginning. Now it didn’t seem right that they were almost naked.

‘I’ll get dressed,’ he said.

But then he dropped his head and lay his lips against her breast. She drew a shuddering breath and tried to clasp her hands about his head, but he rose quickly and left her. After a moment she, too, moved into the bedroom to get dressed.

‘Perhaps I should go now,’ he said heavily.

Before she could reply the doorbell shrilled.

‘I’m not expecting anyone,’ she said. ‘Would you go?’

Outside her front door he found a man in his fifties with an eager, nervous look.

‘Does Signorina Ryland live here?’ he asked. ‘I was told she did.’

At the sound of his voice something happened to Jacko. He’d been curled up peacefully, but suddenly his head lifted and he was alert with his whole body. A soft ‘Wuff!’ escaped him.

Francesco ushered him in. Celia emerged to face the newcomer, frowning slightly.

‘Signorina,’ the man said earnestly, ‘I am Antonio Feltona, and I have come to beg you to grant me a favour.’

‘Feltona,’ she murmured, then her brow cleared. ‘Jacko was yours, wasn’t he?’

‘That’s true. Then my sight came back and I no longer needed a guide dog.’

‘And they gave him to me because I need someone with his experience in this city,’ she recalled. ‘Have you come to make sure he’s all right? Here he is.’

As she spoke Jacko leapt up, yelping with delight, and hurled himself on his old master. Antonio dropped to his knees and embraced the eager dog, cooing affection into his ears.

‘That’s what’s been wrong with Jacko all this time,’ Francesco murmured.

‘Something has been wrong?’ the man asked.

‘Only that he’s seemed a bit listless, and not very happy,’ Francesco explained.

‘Yes,’ Signor Feltona said, rising. ‘My family loves him, and he loves us. When I regained my sight it seemed natural for him to be given to someone who needed him, but I think he was too old to make this move. And so I have come to ask you-to plead with you-to let us have him back.’

‘What?’ Celia was thunderstruck.

‘I know it will be hard for you, but there are other dogs.’

‘Not for me,’ she said, agitated. ‘It’s his years of experience that make him valuable to me in the way a young dog couldn’t be. No, I’m sorry. I can’t do without him.’

‘Please, signorina, won’t you even think about it for a while?’

‘No, there’s nothing to think about. I’m sorry. It’s out of the question.’

Celia turned and fled towards the kitchen door, her hands outstretched to prevent another collision. She just managed to avoid the wall, but it was a near thing.

It distressed her that Francesco should have seen this happen. After all she’d said about independence. How he would gloat!

But then his hands were on her gently, his voice in her ear.

‘Steady, carissima. Just a little to your left. Just here.’

He edged her through the door into the kitchen and towards a chair.

‘Sit down and I’ll pour you a drink.’

She sat, trying to understand what was happening to her. She’d always been proud of her own confident efficiency, but suddenly she was swamped by fear. It swept over her in waves, making coherent thought impossible. Instead of giving calm consideration to the proposal, she’d blurted out her terrified resistance.

She felt a glass pushed into her hand and drank it without asking what it was. It was brandy.

‘Thanks. I needed that,’ she said huskily. ‘Poor man. I didn’t mean to shout at him.’

‘It’s not like you to lose it,’ he said gently.