Present Day Luna Hotel Baglioni, Venice Sleeping with a woman for the first time is strange. Waking beside her in the morning is even stranger.
Tom Shaman is coming to terms with this strangeness as he lies on his back staring at the ceiling in Tina Ricci's king-sized bed.
His head's a mess. A real mess.
He urgently needs fresh air and some time to work out what the hell is going on.
While Tina sleeps snugly, Tom carries his clothes to the bathroom and dresses in the light of the shaving mirror.
He takes the room key, quietly shuts the bedroom door and walks the streets for the first time since discovering Monica Vidic's body.
It's already 9 a.m. and he can't remember the last time he'd gone to bed so early and woken so late.
The morning light is as rich as honeycomb. The temperature a comfortable eighteen degrees. Everywhere he looks, couples are sharing coffee, croissants and newspapers at pavement cafes. It certainly seems as though the world was built for two.
He walks along the front of the Bacino di San Marco and doubts there is a better view of the canal in all of Venice. Crafts of every shape and size jockey for position in the waterway – gondolas, ferries, trade boats, a Carabinieri cruiser and vaporetti.
As he prepares to turn left at the Ponte dei Sospiri a funeral boat passes, slowly ploughing its way to the historic cemetery on Isola di San Michele. The flower-laden vessel jolts memories of Monica and the monster who murdered her.
It's not something he wants to dwell on.
He pilots his thoughts back to Tina. A few days ago he hadn't even known she'd existed; now she's assumed a central role in his life.
The first woman he's slept with. He's sure it would have been no big thing for her. But for Tom, it's a landmark. He struggles to define exactly what kind.
One to be proud of? Or ashamed?
He really isn't sure. Years of Catholicism do that to you. They make you uncertain about how you should feel about anything pleasurable, especially sex.
Like most priests, Tom tried hard not to think about being intimate with a woman. And like most of his colleagues, there were times when he failed.
In those moments, he'd imagined such a relationship would start off slow – a warm kind of friendship – and then gradually grow into something deeper and more passionate. He'd never dreamed that he would end up behaving like a hopeless teenager and losing his virginity in a drunken one-night stand.
But then again – if he was honest with himself – he hadn't been that drunk. Tipsy – yes. Loose and uninhibited – certainly. But so drunk that he couldn't have stopped himself? No, not at all.
And now? In the full glare of the morning light – what did he think now?
Need it be a one-night stand? Is that what she wants? What he wants?
He can't answer any of the questions. It all seems so horrendously confusing. And to think he'd spent years counselling parishioners on their marital problems. The thought brings a smile to his face. How hopelessly unqualified he was.
But Tom has no regrets. None at all. Whatever happens next, he knows it is all part of the new person he is becoming. A person who, overnight, has allowed a complete stranger into his life. And in giving her the most precious thing he'd had left, he's allowed her to become an intimate player in his new life.
But for how long?
The question haunts him as he meanders back towards the hotel.