‘I know. That’s what worries me most.’

Everything was done. The funeral was over, the paperwork was in order, and all that was left was to check out of the hotel and head for Miami Airport.

Before starting the journey Helena went to the cemetery, to lay a final offering of flowers on her husband’s grave.

‘I guess this is goodbye,’ she said when she’d arranged them carefully. ‘I’ll come back and see you again, but I don’t know exactly when. It depends what I find when I get to Venice.’

A step on the path behind her made her turn far enough to see a group of people walking past, slowing so that they could see her better. She gave a faint smile.

‘It’s happening again,’ she whispered to Antonio. ‘Do you remember how we used to laugh when they stared at me?’

Her beauty had always drawn eyes, first in her years as a model then, after her retirement, the attention had continued. Her long hair was a luscious honey-colour, and her figure had remained perfect; five feet ten inches, slender but rounded.

Her face was remarkable, with large eyes and full lips that commanded attention. Those generous lips were her chief beauty for they made her smile impossible to ignore, and when held softly together they seemed to be on the verge of a kiss.

That, at least, was what one of her admirers had said. Helena had thanked him graciously, then turned away to hide her chuckles. She could never quite take her own achievements seriously, which was part of her charm. Photographers wanting to convey ‘voluptuous’ had always asked for her, and she was soon known in the trade as ‘Helen of Troy’, which made her laugh even more.

Antonio had enjoyed every moment of it.

‘They look at us and say, “What a lucky fellow to have won the heart of that beautiful woman!”’ he’d said with relish. ‘They think what a wonderful time we must have in bed, and they envy me.’

Then he’d sighed, for the wonderful time in bed had been an illusion. His heart had been too weak to risk physical exertion, and in their two years together they had never once made love. But he’d derived much innocent pleasure from the world’s speculation.