Valentina’s gaiety was forced. She was using laughter and chattiness to deflect her anxiety and instead it put Joe and me on edge. We tried, and failed, to make light-hearted conversation during the first part of the drive, but after a short while we all gave up and looked through our windows, in different directions.

We had crossed the ravine and were approaching the tunnel when Valentina’s phone rang.

‘Vito,’ she warned.

Joe muted the volume on the radio and we all went quiet.

Valentina spoke to her husband. ‘Ciao, Vito! Yes!’ she said in an artificially cheerful voice. ‘Yes, I saw the midwife, everything’s fine. The baby’s as big as she should be, healthy. Yes, we’ll be back in good time, don’t worry. It would be great if you’d…’

We were sucked into the tunnel and her signal fell away.

Valentina looked at the face of the phone; its blank screen. ‘Come on,’ she said, to the phone. ‘Come on!’

‘You won’t get a signal in the tunnel, Mama,’ said Francesco. He had removed one of the earbuds.

‘Vito’ll think I’ve cut him off on purpose.’

‘Call him back when we’re out of the tunnel and tell him where we were.’

‘I can’t, I…’

The tiny arch of daylight at the other end of the tunnel was looming larger now.

I reached in front of me. ‘Give me the phone, Valentina, I’ll tell Vito what happened. He won’t have a go at me.’

‘No,’ she said, ‘no. It’s best he thinks we’re on the bus. He’ll go mad if he knows we’re in a car with you guys.’

‘Why would he go mad?’

‘He just would, wouldn’t he, Ciccio?’

‘Yeah,’ Francesco mumbled.

In the seat in front of mine, Valentina was shrinking, becoming smaller. Beside her, I could sense Joe’s anger, although he didn’t say anything. ‘It’s easier for me, well, for both of us, if I don’t do the things that make Vito mad,’ Valentina finished in a little voice.

Francesco was staring out of the window, concentrating on the music from his phone, making a point of not listening to his mother so he did not have to hear her humiliate herself to us.

Valentina’s phone rang again the second we were out of the tunnel; Vito must have been pressing redial over and over.

‘Ciao!’ Valentina said cheerily. From my position behind her, I could hear Vito’s voice coming through the phone speaker as he bombarded her with questions. ‘It was the tunnel,’ she said, ‘we’ve just come through the tunnel. No, no, no, of course not. No. No!’ She covered her eyes with her free hand as if she was trying to protect them.

It was hard for her to get a word in edgeways through the torrent of questions Vito was firing at her.