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‘Any time.’

‘I’ll have to bring Nick’s family here and show them that I’m not as clueless as they seem to think I am.’

Aidan frowned. ‘Is that really what they think of you?’

I shrugged.

‘And Nick used to be married to that overconfident one? Sophia?’

‘Yep.’

‘And he didn’t tell you she was coming?’

I shook my head. ‘Do all men lack basic communication skills?’

‘I couldn’t possibly speak for all men,’ said Aidan.

I took a step closer toFortitude. There was something very strong and powerful about the 550-year-old woman in the painting.

‘So, are you going to tell me, then?’ I said. ‘About what happened. Why you left.’

‘Ah, yes,’ he said softly, standing so close behind me now that I could feel his breath on the back of my neck. His voice was sending tingles down my spine.

Focus, I thought to myself.

‘So I think we got to my mum’s diagnosis?’

I nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘I found out that the disease is usually passed down via the mother and while both men and women can develop the condition, men go on to have symptoms more often.’

I swallowed hard. Was Aidan losing his eyesight?

‘That’s when things started not adding up,’ said Aidan. ‘Neither Mum nor Dad mentioned that maybe I should get a test, and when I brought it up, they brushed it off. Said their doctor had told them it wasn’t necessary, that it was very unlikely I’d have it and that since I couldn’t do anything about it, there was no point in knowing unless I started developing symptoms.’

‘That doesn’t sound right,’ I said.

‘Exactly. Which is why I contacted my own GP and arranged the test myself.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me any of this at the time?’ I asked.

We’d shared lots of things. Our disastrous relationships, our aspirations, our failures. So why not that?

‘I should have said something,’ said Aidan.’ I wasn’t used to talking about my feelings. I know it felt like I was, because it came more easily with you. But that was very unusual. And I went to tell you loads of times, but something always stopped me. I thought that if I did have the gene, it would mean an end to everything. You wouldn’t want to have children with me, for a start, would you?’

‘Aidan, we’d been together a month. Having children wasn’t even something we’d thought about, let alone discussed.’

‘I’d thought about it,’ he said, looking at me in that intense way he had.

I swallowed hard.

‘Now we go to see more Botticelli,’ announced Francesca grandly.

Keeping Francesca in my eyeline, my mind was whirring. He’d seen a future for us. He’d thought as far ahead as children, something I hadn’t dared consider. So what had gone so wrong?

‘This isPrimavera,’ said Francesca, coming to a stop. ‘Spring.’

The painting had a dark background but was bursting with colourful details: fruits, flowers, trees and plants. Francesca explained that in the centre of the painting was Venus, the goddess of love, set back from the others, and above her head, a blindfolded Cupid shoots his arrow. When the small crowd in front of us dispersed, Aidan and I stepped forward to take a closer look.