Outside, the storm clouds were growing heavier. Flickers of thunder rumbled above. The peninsula seemed to be holding its breath. The sea had flattened, its surface barely moving. The light was weird, bright and artificial; the villa, the trees, the headland, all of them looked unreal.

I walked across the garden and saw something hooked over the branch of a tree: a fringed leather bag – Valentina’s. ‘Don’t let me forget this,’ she’d said and I’d promised I wouldn’t, but when Vito turned up, Valentina’s bag had been the last thing on my mind.

57

I found Joe in the stables. I told him about the bag and that we had to return it to Valentina as quickly as possible.

‘We’ll go now,’ he said.

We crossed the gardens together. The storm clouds were expanding, lightning deep inside them, flickering; it seemed as if they were preparing to explode. We heard the distant rumbling of thunder. Joe grabbed the car keys and together we ran to the parking area.

When we reached Fiat Two, it was on a slant. Two of its tyres were flat.

‘Two?’ Joe said, incredulous. He leaned down. ‘They’ve been slashed. Jesus! What the fuck’s going on?’ He stood up and walked round the sports car parked beside it. ‘The Alfa’s fine. We’ll have to go in that.’

‘What if the storm breaks while we’re out?’

‘Then, my darling, we’ll get wet.’

The moon was bright behind the clouds as we drove around the Arnones’ cottage and headed out along the coast road. Lightning flashed over the sea, licking its surface. The Alfa Romeo’s engine roared. Joe took the bends very fast. I clutched Valentina’s bag on my lap.

There was no wind that night, but still I was buffeted by hot air. The road felt bumpy beneath us.

Joe jolted the steering wheel from side to side.

‘What is it?’ I asked.

‘Something doesn’t feel quite right.’

I didn’t pay much attention. My mind was full of those young girls; Gina, Anna, Matilde. They danced through my mind.

I held onto the top of the car door as we rounded another corner and the car lurched.

‘Sorry,’ said Joe, ‘I took that one a bit fast.’

I gripped the door tightly. My hair was blowing across my face. I gulped at the air.

Without moonlight shining down on it, the town of Porta Sarina was dark, its narrow roads malevolent. I couldn’t see into its shadows, didn’t know what might be lurking around the corners that the Alfa Romeo’s headlights didn’t reach. It was a relief when the vista opened up and we saw the harbour lights, lightning jittering above the sea.