This misunderstanding now cleared up; Joe was greatly relieved. The old woman put a hand in her pocket and withdrew a handful of bits and pieces: a manky handkerchief, some string, what looked like pony nuts, a metal screw. From this mishmash, she extracted a dirty business card, its edges frayed and curled, which she handed to Joe.

‘Vito Barsi,’ the old woman said.

‘From Vito’s pizzeria in Porta Sarina?’ Joe asked.

‘Si! Si! Vito! Si!’ She patted Joe’s hand.

‘Vito’s her nephew,’ Joe explained. ‘He used to come and help Signora Arnone’s husband with odd jobs around the villa. He’ll know how to get the electricity going.’

The old woman nodded, her wrinkled old lips pursed as if she’d decided everything was now resolved. She was even crazier than she looked if she thought I’d let any relative of hers anywhere near the villa.

‘Dammi il fucile,’ she said, holding out her hand to me.

‘She wants her gun back,’ Joe translated, unnecessarily.

‘Well, she can’t have it! She’s crazy!’

‘She didn’t mean us any harm, she was only trying to protect the villa.’

‘Joe! Stop being so reasonable!’

The woman interjected, addressing me directly, speaking very slowly. ‘Mio marito, Gabriele, è solo in casa.’ She pointed up the hill and made the gesture of an old man, hunching over a stick. ‘Ha la demenza,’ she said to me. ‘De-men-za.’ She twirled a finger to her temple.

‘You should have thought of that before you came charging down here pointing your bloody gun at us!’ I told her.

‘Give her the gun,’ Joe said. ‘It’ll be okay now.’

‘Just because her husband’s old and sick…’

‘It’s okay, Edie. Really. It’s okay. Give her the gun.’

Reluctantly, I stepped forward and held the gun out to the old woman. She snatched it from me, slung it over her shoulder. She gave me one last, dismissive look, smiled fondly at Joe, then she turned and stomped away.

We followed her back through the villa, out of the front door and then all the way along the drive and out of the gates. I pushed the gates shut behind her, threaded the chain through either side and fastened the chain with the padlock.

‘Don’t let’s ever forget to lock them again,’ I said.

‘We’re safe enough with her at the top of the hill acting as lookout.’

‘I bet she’s the reason for the salt and the bloody sheep horn,’ I muttered. ‘I bet she’s the bad luck they wanted to keep away.’

17

Joe and I walked back to the villa. I wrapped my arms around myself. My teeth were chattering.

‘Here,’ Joe said. He took off his jumper and offered it to me.

‘No, it’s okay.’

‘Take it.’