They had never formally discussed Salvatore’s entry into the business, but Fabrizia brought him in anyway, and Alessio did not challenge her. After a while Alessio would have agreed, had his daughter ever asked him, that his new son-in-law was a remarkable salesman. The takings of the shop which he supervised went up noticeably, and Alessio himself asked Salvatore to come and apply these skills in the other shops, which went on to see an improvement too.

The warmth that had grown in their working relationship now came into their personal lives. Alessio went for dinner with Fabrizia and Salvatore and bought them expensive gifts for the house. Salvatore returned these favours, inviting his father-in-law to join them at a restaurant he liked, where he introduced him to the proprietor – a Southerner from Naples – with pride. He bought Alessio a new briefcase, made of supple leather from Florence, and had his initials engraved on the flap in handsome gold lettering.

Fabrizia was pleased by this flowering of friendship, and over the months that followed the wedding she and her father returned to their earlier closeness. Alessio even permitted himself to make a remark about grandchildren, and how he felt ‘just about ready’ for a grandson. As he said this, he thought even if he ends up being called Pasquale, but he did not say this, of course; he just smiled at the idea.

Then he noticed one morning that Fabrizia seemed upset about something. She was moody and snapped at a customer, which was something for which he would normally have told her off. But now he held back. Something was wrong.

Fabrizia’s mood seemed to pass, but a few days later he came upon her sitting in her office, her head sunk in her hands.

‘There’s something wrong,’ he said, resting his hand on her shoulder. ‘I can tell. There’s something wrong.’

She did not look up. She was silent.

‘You can confide in your father, surely?’ he said. The thought occurred to him, with a sudden feeling of dread, that she was having difficulty becoming pregnant. Perhaps there was not going to be a grandson after all?

He wanted to say something reassuring to her but he could not find the words, and so he remained silent, as did she. But he felt, through his hand upon her shoulder, that she was sobbing, quietly and privately.

Salvatore seemed unchanged. Perhaps it is easier for a man to come to terms with this, thought Alessio. Or perhaps he is just braver; and his admiration for his son-in-law increased. He now found himself embarrassed by the memory of his earlier opposition to Salvatore, and marvelled at the young man’s ability to rise above it, to forgive him for his barely hidden hostility.

Then one evening Fabrizia came to Alessio’s house. She let herself in with her key and found her father in his sitting room, his feet up on the leather footstool in the shape of a pig which his wife had found for him and which was one of his favourite mementos of her.