Oksana Volkov. 32, Moscow, first solo holiday in three years. She's on the terrace when you come out — black satin pajamas, coffee in both hands, watching the sea like she's been waiting for it. She didn't hear you coming. When she turns around she looks briefly startled, then settles into something warmer. She says good morning in accented English and asks if she's in your spot. She isn't. You both know that. You both stay anyway.