A huge blast of wind strikes the rooftop and, as Cara starts towards him, there is a tremendous echoing crash and she screams. She covers her face and screams again. In that brief moment the scene around her dislimns, past and present collide, and it is as if she stands once more on the landing of the old town house in Rome. Joe is facing her. He’s laughing, protesting at her foolishness: ‘Cara, bellissima Cara, where are you going, Cara?’ His arms are stretched towards her, detaining her, and she raises her handbag as a shield between them. He pretends to be frightened of her anger, throws up his arms in mock defence, ducking back against the banister. There is a splintering, cracking sound, the banister disintegrates and he is falling back. His hand flails out, catches the railing, but it breaks off as he grasps it. Gracefully he topples backwards into the stairwell. She screams his name, rushes forwards, hears a sickening crack, and his shout abruptly cut off. Standing precariously by the broken banister, looking down from the top landing, she sees him three floors below. His neck is crooked at an impossible angle and a pool of blood is spreading from beneath his head. She leaps down the stairs, her bag still clutched in one hand, her case in the other, and crouches to look into his sightless, half-open eyes. A door opens at the end of a passage behind her, she hears voices, and then she is running; running away into the hot, noisy city.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Sam hears Cara scream, sees her collapse down on the rooftop. By the time he reaches her she is curled up small, huddled against the wind, screaming a name over and over again. He drops to his knees, gathers her shaking body into his arms and sits holding her, utterly unnerved.

‘Cara, what is it? Are you hurt?’

She shudders, wails quietly, and then her eyes roll up and she becomes limp in his arms.

‘Cara,’ he calls. ‘Cara?’

There is no response. He forces himself to stay calm, to control his panic. The squall is on them now. The sun has set and in the noise of the wind and the rain he can’t even tell for sure that she is breathing. Sam lays her flat, bends to her face and listens for breath. He feels it on his cheek and, sitting back, he places a finger on her neck; she has a pulse. He looks around the roof and sees that the crash had been caused by the hatch blowing shut in the wind. He is berating himself, cursing, even as he says out loud, ‘We can’t stay here.’