Fabrizia stared at him, but her mind seemed to be elsewhere.

‘Salvatore …’ she began.

‘Yes?’

‘He’s seeing other women,’ she said, and then she began to sob.

He stood up and placed his arm around her.

‘Surely not?’ he said. ‘Surely you’re imagining this?’

‘He is,’ she sobbed, shaking her head. ‘He is. A wife knows.’

He stroked her hair gently. ‘But have you any proof? Have you?’

It became clear that she did not, and he told her, in a reassuring tone, that she should not assume that just because some Southern men carried on with other women Salvatore would do the same. ‘He is a fine boy,’ he said. ‘I can tell. I can judge the character of men. I know that he is a good husband to you.’

She stared at him. ‘But you …’

‘You should not judge a man on the basis of where he comes from,’ he said. ‘Forget about this. A suspicious wife can drive a man into the arms of another woman. I’ve seen it happen.’

Over the next few weeks, nothing more was said on the subject. Alessio began gently to raise it with his daughter on one occasion, but her look made it clear that she did not wish to discuss it. Then, on a Saturday morning, when they were both working in one of the shops, Salvatore drew up at the front door in an expensive new car. It was a surprise to both of them, and they went out to inspect it. Salvatore smiled and gestured proudly at the gleaming bodywork.

Alessio reflected, later, on what a car such as that must have cost. It was family money, perhaps; there was a wealthy uncle somewhere down there, he had heard. But Fabrizia had different views.

‘Can’t you see?’ she said to her father. ‘He’s stealing the money from the business. He’s stealing the money from you!’

He was shocked by the suggestion and turned on her, accusing her of being unfair to her husband, betraying him. ‘Don’t imagine that everybody from down there is dishonest,’ he stormed. ‘Don’t make that mistake.’

She looked at him open-mouthed. ‘I should not make that mistake?’ she said. ‘I ?’

But Alessio had walked off, dismissing his daughter with a wave of his hand. Fabrizia stood quite still, and then shrugged. She muttered something, but he did not hear what she said, and he was not interested.

Two days later, Salvatore drove off in the expensive car, a young woman in the passenger seat beside him. He was heading south. The husband of one of Fabrizia’s friends, a police officer, saw him as he drove out of town, and told them about it. Fabrizia immediately checked the main business bank account – an account to which Salvatore had been given free access. It had been emptied.

She went into her father’s office.

‘My dear,’ he sighed. ‘I’m so sorry. I tried to warn you, didn’t I? I really tried.’