‘Yes,’ Christa said, very firmly. She looked up at her father, searched for another word and found it. ‘Please.’

She smiled again. She was gorgeous, Athena thought, and suddenly found she was blinking back tears. Nikos was holding his little daughter’s hand with pride. With tenderness. With love.

‘Ice cream, Papa?’ Christa asked and Nikos nodded. He hadn’t taken his eyes from Nicky.

‘Introduce us,’ he said.

‘This is Nicky,’ she said, trying to find the right words. And then, because she didn’t want him to get the wrong idea-even if there was no denying the wrong idea was right-she added quickly, ‘Nicholas.’

‘Of course,’ he said. Non-committal. ‘And the dog?’

‘Oscar.’ She turned away-fast. ‘I’ll buy Christa a cone. Would you like one?’

‘No. Thank you.’

It took time to get the cone. There were people queuing ahead of her. Then she thought she should have asked Christa what she wanted. But somehow…she knew. Strawberry.

And she was right. ‘Pink,’ Christa said with huge pleasure. She looked at the bench where Nicky and Oscar were seated. ‘Sit,’ she said.

Nicky smiled and shifted, just slightly, so there was room for Christa to sit between him and Oscar.

Athena thought, I’m going to cry.

She was not going to cry.

Still Nikos said nothing. Neither did she. Words were too big. Or too small. There was nothing to fill this silence.

Finally Nikos found words that might do. For now. Filler words. ‘It’s good to meet you, Nicholas. Is Oscar your dog or your mother’s?’

‘Mine,’ Nicky said and she thought, great question. Generally shy, discussions of Oscar made Nicky blossom.

‘How old is he?’

‘We’re not sure. He was in our street one day when we came home. He was dirty and really, really hungry. We took him to the animal shelter ’cos Mama said someone might be looking for him, but no one wanted him so we got him back. I called him Oscar ’cos Mama told me she had a dog called Oscar when she was little. Before my Mama’s mama died.’