He hadn’t reacted to her face. Nikki moved again, placing herself squarely before him, grimly determined, daring her good luck not to last.

‘I didn’t mean to,’ she said.

‘Of course not.’

‘I do apologise,’ Laura said, catching up with them. ‘I hope you’re not hurt.’

He gave them both a brilliant grin that seemed to light up the whole world. Laura had never seen a grin like it. It was life enhancing.

‘I guess I’ll survive,’ he said.

‘And it’s left a dirty patch in your shirt.’

He studied the shirt which was already the worse for wear. ‘How can you tell?’ he asked plaintively.

Nikki giggled. He directed his grin at her.

Laura watched him carefully, wondering if this was really happening. Other people flinched at the sight of Nikki, or became elaborately kind, which was almost worse. This man seemed not to have noticed anything different about her.

‘I’m Laura Gray,’ she said, ‘and this is my daughter, Nikki.’

‘I’m Gino Farnese.’ He engulfed her hand in his. It was a big hand with a powerful, muscular look that suggested some kind of hard manual work. Even through the gentle handshake she could feel the strength.

Then he grasped Nikki’s hand, giving her the same courtesy as her mother, and saying solemnly, ‘Buon giorno, signorina. Sono Gino.’

‘What does that mean?’ the child asked.

‘It means, “Hello, young lady. I am Gino.”’

Nikki frowned. ‘You’re foreign,’ she declared bluntly. ‘You talk funny.’

‘Nikki!’ Laura exclaimed. ‘Manners!’

‘It’s true. I’m Italian,’ he said, not seeming to be offended.

‘Are you any good kicking a football?’ Nikki demanded, keeping him to important matters.

‘Nikki!’

‘I reckon I’m pretty useful,’ he said, adding warily, ‘as long as my opponent doesn’t get too rough.’

She bounded away, calling to him, ‘Come on, come on!’