I stared pleadingly at Joe. The heat from the oven was overbearing. My skin prickled. ‘If we don’t go now…’

But it was too late. We heard a crash and turned to see Vito pushing aside chairs as he strode through the restaurant towards us. I made an attempt to stop him but he barged past me. His breath was foul with alcohol and tobacco.

Valentina stood at the entrance to the kitchen, half sobbing, half pleading with her husband to calm down. Vito pushed her aside with no regard for her pregnancy. All his focus was on Joe.

‘You can’t stay away, can you!’ he snarled at Joe. ‘You just can’t leave my wife alone.’

‘She shouldn’t be working in the kitchen in this heat,’ Joe said calmly. He took a step back, away from Vito but closer to the oven behind him. It belched out searing air, the wood inside burned white. The casing must be blisteringly hot. Don’t lean on it, darling, I thought. Don’t burn yourself.

‘Don’t you tell me what my fucking wife should be doing.’ Vito moved closer to Joe, the muscles on his arms tensing. Joe took another step back.

‘Joe, careful!’ I called.

‘She’s my wife,’ Vito snarled, jabbing his finger into Joe’s chest. ‘She does what I tell her to do, that’s how it is!’

‘Don’t you touch him, Vito,’ Valentina said. Her voice was steely.

‘You stay out of this, baby.’

Joe’s back was almost touching the oven now. I took my eyes off him for a second, looking around for something I could use as a weapon but Valentina was quicker than me. She picked up the pizza paddle and lifted it.

‘How many times do I have to tell you to leave her alone?’ Vito asked Joe, his fist clenched, his arm raised. ‘How many times do I have to punch you before you get the fucking message…’ and then he was silenced as Valentina swept the paddle round, slamming the metal tray into the side of Vito’s head. He fell sideways, down onto the floor.

‘I told you not to touch him!’ Valentina screamed, the paddle clattering on top of her husband.

Vito groaned, doubled over in pain, his hands clasped to his cheek. Blood was bubbling between his fingers.

‘I told you!’ screamed Valentina.

Joe was trapped between Vito and the oven. He caught my eye ‘Get her out!’ he called to me. ‘Quick!’

‘Not without you!’

‘Get her out!’ Joe cried again.

‘Come on!’ I told Valentina. I took her arm. Vito was still hunched, staggering, grabbing at Joe’s legs with a bloodied hand. Joe kicked him away.

‘I can’t go without Francesco!’ Valentina cried.

‘You can phone him from the car. We’ll pick him up!’ I tugged her arm and at last she moved. We hurried through the empty restaurant, bumping into the furniture as we went.