I glanced behind me. Joe was trying to keep Vito in the kitchen but Vito was flailing. Joe wouldn’t be able to hold him back for long. Valentina and I reached the door and were halfway across the road when Vito came crashing towards us, blood streaming down his face. Joe stumbled behind. His shirt was torn and there was blood on his cheek too.

‘Hey!’ Vito called drunkenly. ‘Valentina! What you doing, baby? What d’you think you’re doing?’

‘Leave me alone!’ she called.

‘Baby! Angel! Come on! Come to Vito!’

‘She doesn’t want you!’ I yelled at him.

Vito roared in anger, grabbed a wine bottle from the table on the terrace and threw it. Valentina screamed and we both ducked, our hands over our heads. The bottle hit the side of the Alfa Romeo with an awful thunk and bounced back onto the road. It shattered and wine frothed over the tarmac like blood. The men from the table at the terrace pushed back their chairs and huddled round Vito, trying to restrain him.

While all this was going on, something moved in the periphery of my vision; something small and quiet emerged from the darkness; Francesco. He cycled up to the Alfa Romeo, put one foot on the ground and looked around him, taking in the scene. He dropped the bike, jumped over the driver’s door and slid into the seat. He leaned across to open the passenger door and called to his mother. Valentina crawled into the seat beside him. He started the engine. The engine roared, smoke plumed from the exhaust and Francesco drove the Alfa Romeo away. It all happened in five seconds, maybe ten and then the car was gone; and all that was left was a grey trail of exhaust smoke, hanging above the roadway.

On the terrace outside the restaurant, everything went quiet. Vito stopped raging, the men fell silent, I went to Joe and we stood together, listening to the sound of the Alfa Romeo’s engine fade. Up above, thunder rumbled, like applause.

‘Scusi! Scusi!’

It was one of the men from the terrace. He put something in Joe’s hand: a set of keys.

He pointed to an old car parked a few yards away and made the motion of driving with his hands.

Joe began to ask a question but the man snorted with impatience and waved us towards his car. Behind us, Vito was becoming noisy again, arguing with the other men.

‘Come on,’ said Joe.