‘Edie, don’t. Don’t go there. His aunt gave us a fright and she’s sent him here to make things okay between us. That’s what the people round here do. That’s all there is to it.’

‘I don’t like him. Can’t you make him go away?’

‘Let’s let him do what he’s come to do and then he’ll go. Irma Arnone’s pride will be restored and we’ll have water and power and he’ll have no reason to come back.’

I didn’t like it, but it made sense.

Joe flashed the beam of the torch around the cellar. To the left of the wine vault was a smaller archway, smaller than a door. ‘You coming?’ he asked.

I was hardly going to stay in the cellar on my own, in the dark.

We had to duck to get through the arch. Beyond were more steps, this time cut into the rock, leading sharply downhill. I followed Joe closely. There was nothing to hold onto and the rock was razor-sharp. Darkness settled behind us, cold and cloying. Ahead, I could hear a weird shifting sound, like some giant creature flopping about in a cave.

It wasn’t far, only a few yards, although the steps were steep and sharp and the passage small and narrow and then Joe whispered: ‘Wow!’

We were standing on a natural shelf, in a cavern. Half the base of the cavern was rock, the other half was water; the sea. At the far end, some way away, the cavern opened to the elements; it had a small, shallow mouth, and beyond was the sky. A lovely turquoise light, pure and magical, spilled inside.

Joe passed the torch back to me and stepped down onto the cavern floor. The rock was jagged and he walked tentatively. His body hunched, arms outstretched, taking care to balance.

The further he moved away from me, shrinking from me, the larger I realised the cave was. I was transfixed by the dancing reflections of the water on the rocks.

When he reached the cave mouth, Joe turned and waved to me. ‘There’s a landing stage! You could get a boat in here! This must be how they brought supplies from Porta Sarina to the villa in the old days!’