As they finally reached the urban area of Blanes, he directed her to an open-air car park not far from the beach, close to his parents’ summerhouse. The neighbourhood put her in mind of a secret island, a bunch of little white houses surrounded by tall blocks of flats which hid them from plain view to outsiders, yet the narrow streets were sunny and full of life. The scent of the sea pervaded the air, mixed with other various smells reminiscent of beach and summer. Elated, she made a mental note to come back some day.

They arrived at a cul-de-sac narrower than the other streets and walked into a small shop which vaguely resembled a cobbler’s. Inside it proved to be larger than it looked. It was heavily populated with all sorts of tools, small machines and appliances. A narrow corridor mad...

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