Penny slid the single piece of paper out of the envelope and unfolded it. Sharon hung on her left shoulder, Charlie on her right. The three of them read it together.

‘YES!’ screamed Charlie. ‘YES, YES, YES!’

‘Oh my goodness,’ said Penny, looking up. ‘We did it. WE DID IT!’

Sharon looked from Charlie to her friend. ‘You did it?’

Penny nodded and leapt up to her feet. ‘WE. DID. IT!’ she screamed, lurching to Charlie for a hug, and then to Sharon, and then the three of them were hugging all together and jumping up and down and screaming over and over, ‘We did it!’

Penny pulled away. ‘I can’t believe it! I really can’t believe it.’

‘Can’t you?’ said Charlie. ‘Because I can. Look what you did to this place, babe. You really made something of it. You made it next level. I knew we’d get the award. Honestly. I really had a feeling.’

‘Have you got any idea who? When?’ Penny turned to Sharon to explain, ‘Nobody ever knows who the inspectors are, what they look like, nothing. You can’t prepare for it. You only find out afterwards if they liked it.’

‘I have no idea who it could’ve been. There was a woman in maybe two months ago who asked a lot of questions about the specials, like really specific questions, but I just thought she was one of those people who’d once read a Nigella cookbook and so wanted to show off what she knew. But maybe it was her?’

‘Well god bless her,’ Penny said. ‘Praise be!’

‘Are you going to tell him, then?’ Charlie said. ‘Go call him!’

Penny wished Francesco was here to see the letter himself. She’d have to photograph it and send it to him. Maybe that would be enough to make him reply.

‘I hope it doesn’t give him another heart attack, though,’ Charlie continued, and Penny realized they were talking about her uncle.

‘I’ll call him now,’ Penny said, suddenly deflated. She thought this was her excuse to finally get through to Francesco, but she’d have to call her uncle first. ‘He’ll be over the moon.’

He was.

In Bologna, Francesco was taking an afternoon passeggiata with a friend through the arches of the town centre when his phoned beeped. The terracotta-coloured buildings hummed golden in the afternoon sun, holding in the heat of the day to make it feel warmer than it was. Lucia had welcomed him back to the city he had been born in with open arms, but she knew her oldest childhood friend was deeply sad.