‘Oh, that’s fantastic,’ Grace said, excitement bubbling inside her. At last, she was going to find out about the real Connie from someone who actually knew her.

*

Nonna Maria didn’t look like a traditional Italian granny. And certainly not like the image Grace had held in her head since first hearing about her. Dressed head to toe in expensive-looking designer clothes, topped off with a jaunty Gucci logo silk scarf at her neck, lacquered jet-black big hair and enormous Versace shades, Nonna Maria was the epitome of glamorous chic from a golden era. She had an ageless face, which had clearly had many aesthetic treatments, giving her a near flawless complexion and tautness befitting a much younger woman. On the seat beside her was a soft tan leather tote nestling next to a white bichon frise sitting on a little fluffy cushion.

‘Hi Grace, Ellis,’ Georgie said, standing up to give them each a kiss on the cheek when they arrived.

‘Good to see you again,’ Tom smiled as he introduced them, in Italian, to Nonna Maria and then asked in English if they’d like some gelato. ‘It really is the best you’ll ever taste,’ he said persuasively, handing them each a menu.

‘Get the peach cup. Two scoops; they make it from peaches picked on the mountainside,’ Nonna Maria instructed in English, with a very breathy but regal-sounding Italian accent, as she reached a bony, diamond-jewelled hand out to clasp Grace’s forearm.

‘Oh, um … yes please. I’ll go for the peach cup in that case.’ She grinned up at Tom as she settled into a seat, not daring to disagree with the formidable-looking Nonna Maria.

‘Same for me too, please,’ Ellis nodded, taking the chair beside her.

‘I’ll organise the ice cream and leave you all to chat,’ Georgie offered, then dashed off inside the café.

‘So you want to know about Connie?’ Nonna Maria said, getting straight to the point.

‘Yes please,’ Grace replied, finding her phone inside her bag so she could make some notes.