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‘Signor Petersen?’

‘Oui, c’est moi,’ I said, disorientated.

‘Buongiorno, I’m calling from the Pensione Albertini, about your reservation?’

‘Ja, ja,’ I said, jamming a finger into my other ear.

‘I have done my best, but I’m afraid that I cannot bring your reservation forward at such short notice. My apologies.’

‘My reservation?’

‘Your change of plans. You are now arriving in Venice tomorrow night?’

‘No, no, not at all. Not for three, four days yet.’ That was our plan, a train across the Alps then one night each in Verona, Vicenza, Padua then on to Venice. ‘When did he, I mean I, when did I call?’

‘Perhaps fifteen minutes ago.’

‘By telephone?’

Pause for the lunatic. ‘Sì…’

‘My reservation was for one single and one double room. Which did I ask to rearrange?’

‘The double room.’

‘For tomorrow?’

‘Sì, tomorrow. But we spoke about this just fifteen minutes —’

‘Did I by any chance say where I was calling from?’

‘I don’t understand …’

‘And you’re sure it was a Signor Petersen?’

‘Sì.’

Albie! It must have been Albie calling, tampering with my itinerary, trying to use our hotel reservation to save money. They were on their way to Venice after all.

‘Well, grazie mille for trying.’

‘So we will in fact see you in Venice in four days’ time as we had previously arranged?’

‘Sì, sì, sì. In four days.’

‘Splendid.’

‘You’ve been very helpful. Auf Wiedersehen! Ciao!’

I was some way from the newsagents now, the Soft Mints warming in my grip, unpaid for. A fugitive! I checked the departure board. Boarding commencing. Checked my pockets. Phone, passport, wallet, all I would need. In my hand luggage, a phone charger, a book, a tablet computer and a history of the Second World War. I stepped back onto the concourse, saw Connie, saw some stairs leading to a raised balcony above the lounge. I climbed the stairs and watched her, unseen.

I watched her for fifteen minutes as departure time approached, eating my way through the contraband Soft Mints, a real bandito. I watched her quite, quite full of love, despite her palpable irritation and impatience at my absence, and I came to a decision.

I would not lose my wife and son.

If the notion was unacceptable to me, I would not accept it. I would not return to England now and spend our last summer slowly dismantling our home, watching Connie separating herself from me, dividing us in two and making plans for a future that did not include me. I refused to live in a house where everything I saw or touched — Mr Jones the dog, the bedside radio, the pictures on the wall, the cups from which we drank our morning tea — would soon be allocated, mine or hers. We had been through too much together, and it was not acceptable, and neither was it acceptable to have my son wandering the continent in the belief that I was ashamed of him. It could not, would not be allowed to happen.

I finished the stolen mints. There’s a saying, cited in popular song, that if you love someone you must set them free. Well, that’s just nonsense. If you love someone, you bind them to you with heavy metal chains.

95. final call for the heathrow flight …

Connie was standing now, anxiously looking for me, left and right, no doubt thinking, this is strange, this isn’t like him at all, always there two hours before departure, laptop in a separate tray, liquids and gels in a Ziploc bag. Well, not any more, my love! The new me dialled her number, watched as she groped in her handbag, found the phone, glared at the screen, picked up …

‘Douglas, where the hell are you? The gate is closing in five—’

‘I’m not catching the flight.’

‘Where are you, Douglas?’

‘I’m in a taxi. In fact I’ve already left the airport. I’m not going back to England.’

‘Douglas, don’t be ridiculous, they’re calling our names—’

‘Then get on the plane without me. Make sure you tell them I’m not coming, I don’t want to inconvenience anyone.’

‘I’m not getting on the plane without you, that’s insane.’

‘Listen to me, Connie, please? I can’t come back until I’ve put things right. I’m going to find Albie first, and apologise face to face, and then I’m going to bring him home.’

‘Douglas, you have no idea where he is!’

‘Then I’ll find him.’

‘How can you find him? He could be anywhere in Europe by now, anywhere in the world …’

‘I’ll find a way. I’m a scientist, remember? Method. Results. Conclusion.’

I watched her now as she lowered herself back into the seat. ‘Douglas, if you’re doing this to … prove something … to me … well, it’s very touching, but it’s not really the point.’

‘I love you, Connie.’

She spanned her forehead with her hand. ‘I love you too, Douglas, but you’re tired, you’ve been under a lot of strain, and I don’t think you’re thinking straight …’

‘Please don’t try and talk me out of this. I’m going to go on alone.’

A moment passed, and she stood. ‘Are you sure that’s what you want?’

‘I am.’