‘You found the kittens!’

‘Yep. Got up early. Couldn’t sleep.’

I hadn’t slept well either but it hadn’t occurred to me to get up and look for the orphaned kittens. I studied Joe’s face for a moment and saw the sadness and tiredness in his eyes and felt a pang of gratitude and something else: respect. I looked away before he had chance to see what I was thinking and took another step closer to him. I leaned over to look into the towel. ‘It’s so small!’

‘Only a couple of weeks old.’

‘Are there any others?’

‘In there.’ He nodded towards a cardboard box on the table.

I pulled back the flap and peeped inside. Two more kittens were curled together, fast asleep, snuggled into one of Joe’s T-shirts. I put my finger into the box and drew back the fabric. One kitten was the colour of a ripened fig, the other mainly black with a tiny white spot on its nose.

‘Where were they?’

‘In the old stables. That’s where my grandmother’s cats used to live. I figured if they were their descendants, they’d probably still be there.’

I stroked the kittens in turn, very gently, with the back of my finger. They were warm and solid; tiny bones beneath the skin; a determined pulse.

‘They’re going to need feeding,’ Joe said. His voice was softer than it had been last night.

‘I’m so glad you found them,’ I said, ‘and they weren’t on their own for too long.’ I tried to convey my gratitude in my voice. ‘How do we feed them?’

‘We’ll have to go into town for milk.’

‘Okay.’

I looked at him tentatively over the top of the box.

‘Joe,’ I said, ‘about last night…’

‘Forget it,’ said Joe.

‘I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for—’

‘Please, Edie,’ said Joe, ‘I don’t want to talk about it any more.’

There were so many things I wanted to say to Joe, but the emotions uncovered last night were still raw and bloody. I didn’t want us to end up shouting at each other again so I nodded and said nothing else. I’d wait until the right time came to raise the subject of the future of the villa again.

We headed off to Porta Sarina soon after. I sat in the back of the Fiat with the box on my lap. The kittens’ eyes were closed and they were quite still. The sun came through the window, beat down on my shoulder. I put my hand over the box to keep its strong rays from the kittens. I promised them we’d look after them; I told them they’d be fine.

As soon as the car was high enough up the hill for my phone to receive a signal, it pinged several times with incoming messages. The first was from Matilde Romano: