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M a bulldozes me to my language class in the afternoon, desperate to get rid of me and my ‘incessant questions’.

But when her lawyer friend wasn’t able to find a loophole and Pa confirmed he can’t free up any savings in time, the idea of having pretend conversations about giving directions and ordering taxis feels.

..as pointless as ordering milk for a bar that’s about to be repossessed.

Ma practically hands me over to Kenzi at the school entrance and disappears around the corner at lightning speed.

‘What happened at the swap last night? Your mum looked angry...did she find out about the debts?’

Was that only last night? So much has happened in so little time. I take a long breath and, as we slowly climb the stairs, I tell Kenzi the short version of the fallout from Bertolli’s visit, and the hospital showdown between Ma and Nina.

When we reach the second floor, Kenzi stops to hug me. ‘Sounds intense. But things are finally out in the open now, right?’

I nod into her shoulder and spot Mas-si watching us from the classroom doorway. ‘You two –’ He stabs a finger at Kenzi and me – ‘fourth floor, immediatamente .’

Uffa. What now? I straighten up and look at Mas-si. ‘Umm, have we done something wrong?’

He drops the serious face in an instant, clearly incapable of keeping up an act despite his love of drama. ‘The advanced teacher is back and you two have been promoted. Congratulations!’

‘Evviva! More Italian classes.’ Kenzi slow claps, her voice flat and sarcastic but Mas-si, oblivious, shoos us up to the fourth floor like a proud father.

I notice it though. And I feel for her. I know it annoys her – being seen as Moroccan first, even though she was born and raised here. Frustrating though it is, she has little choice if it will boost her chance of getting citizenship.

‘Just think,’ I joke. ‘It’s only for a few more weeks, then you’ll be back at school.’ But it’s a jolting reminder that I’ll be gone too. Back to Scotland. Back to Isla. And away from Kenzi, who has become a bigger part of my life than I ever expected.

She swats my arm. ‘ Grazie mille , Livia. That really cheers me up.’

I laugh to mask the ache in my chest. But the sound dies in my throat when we reach the top floor. From this height, I get a perfect view of the bar from the stairwell window. And of Giulio standing outside it...

Talking to a girl.

Correction. Laughing with her. A girl in loose jeans and an oversized hoodie, who still manages to look...glossy. She has her back towards me, but I know who she is. And when she turns, there’s no mistaking that profile...that perfectly pert little nose...

Flaminia.

My hand grips the banister when I see the helmet in her hands. My anime helmet – at least, the one I’ve come to think of as mine. She’s putting it on...fastening it under her chin.

‘You coming?’ Kenzi asks, her voice snapping me back to reality.

‘Yeah.’ I tear my eyes away from the window. But even as we step into the new classroom, the image of Giulio and Flaminia lingers and there’s a weird lump in my throat. Is this why she called him at the Pasquino statue? To set up this...date?

The new teacher is waiting for us. She’s efficient, no-nonsense, and dives straight into the lesson.

And for the first time, I’m actually challenged – and it feels good.

The pace is fast and I’m keeping up, even when one horrible, distracting thought just won’t leave me alone; Flaminia pressed close to Giulio on the Vespa, feeling the vibration of his laughter through his back – I can picture it so clearly, because I’ve been there too.

Did I imagine our almost kiss? Am I really just the cliché foreign girl everyone thinks I am?

After class, we pass the window again. My eyes automatically find the bar. No Vespa. No sign of him. Does that mean they’re still together?

Sofia and Ren are waiting for us in the stairwell.

I swallow hard and force a greeting past the lump in my throat.

Ren has a large tote bag filled with Tupperware containers, the corners jutting against the fabric of the bag.

Of course. The language swap. With everything that’s been going on, I forgot it was on after class.

I chew the inside of my cheek. Is there any point doing it now? I say as much after I bring Ren and Sofia up to speed with the latest developments, but Sofia just scoffs.

‘I set up a page for it. People are organizing meet-ups themselves – turns out, that’s the beauty of it. The only way to stop it now is to actually close the bar.’ She claps a hand over her mouth, realizing what she’s just said.

Kenzi herds us out. ‘Hey, the swap is fun. People are enjoying it, and I’m actually improving my English. Even my family seems impressed, which never happens.’ She shrugs. ‘May as well go out in style, right?’