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Dedication

To the readers joining me on this escape to a rocky plateau above a sun-drenched valley in Italy. Our journey begins on page one.

Chapter One

Zia Chalmers backed out from the storage space on all fours, dragging a cracked brown suitcase. ‘Ouch!’ She rubbed her burning scalp where she’d caught her ponytail on the frame of the tiny access door. ‘One of the benefits of an attic flat is the eaves storage. You just have to be size zero to access it.’

Ursula, lounging on the carpet of Zia’s spare room – currently Ursula’s room – peered at the suitcase. ‘How long’s it been there?’

‘Six years, since Gran died. I should have sorted through it then but I was twenty-four and felt too young to be left alone in the world, let alone clear Gran and Pap’s bungalow ready for sale.’ A perfunctory swipe at the dust then Zia sprang the suitcase’s old-fashioned clasps with a phut! The hinges groaned as she threw back the lid and paused to absorb buff folders jammed beside faded red document wallets. A blue and white quilted beach bag took up one corner. She patted it. ‘I found this on top of a wardrobe. It’s full of Mum’s letters but reading them felt intrusive so I stuck it in here.’

Ursula frowned down at the jumble. ‘Will looking through this stuff upset you?’

Zia shrugged. ‘Maybe, but if I want clues about my father it’s the only place I can think of to look.’ She toyed absently with the beach bag’s zipper. ‘Gran and Pap always denied knowing his name. It wasn’t a popular subject because they didn’t like Mum being a single mother and a “free spirit”, as Gran called her. We visited them in Spain when I was a kid but I think they were duty visits for Mum. Shame, because Gran and Pap were wonderful after she died.’ She blinked away the memory of her shocked ten-year-old self clinging to Gran.

Ursula laughed. ‘They might have had old-fashioned values but your Gran was mischievous and kind and Pap was really smiley. I loved going home from uni with you on the holidays. It made my homesickness a bit better.’ Ursula’s own family was back in Ireland. She’d come to England for her degree and stayed. Zia’s closest friend, Ursula was as blonde as Zia was dark, a beanpole where Zia was curvy, an arty and unconventional tattoo artist whereas Zia had a corporate client relationships role in asset finance. Nevertheless, they found the same things funny, loved the same books and movies and completely got each other. When Ursula and her husband Stephan hit a rocky patch, Zia had instantly offered Ursula somewhere to stay.