They spent the rest of the evening at the task, picking at their overcooked meal absent-mindedly as they puzzled over the letters. By midnight their bullet points filled the back of an A4 envelope.

Weary eyes burning, Zia ran her gaze down the list. ‘So, this is what we have.’ She used her fingers to mark the points. ‘Gran and Pap thought Mum was doing something wrong but shared her grief over Tori’s death.’ Another finger. ‘Harry suffered guilt over her death. Probably Tori is the second Victoria Chalmers. Mum had been to a place called Montelibertà in Umbria, Italy and fetched me from this woman, Lucia Costa.’ She reached the last finger on that hand as she came to the final point. ‘Just after Mum and I moved to the Midlands, Lucia went to Exmouth looking for me but no one told her where I was.’ She paused to rub tired eyes. ‘This is like a TV drama.’

Ursula grabbed another letter and read aloud from it. ‘Then in 1999 Harry says, “Oh, Vicky, that bloody Lucia Costa turned up again after all these years! I told her I knew no more than I had when you first moved away. BLOODY woman!”’

‘And the last few letters from him are asking why Mum’s not answering his letters any more,’ Zia rounded out. ‘He sounds so sad. The very last says: “I didn’t tell Lucia where you live, Vicky! Why would I betray you now? I’ve kept your secrets all these years.”’

She laid down the letter, blood rushing in her ears. ‘Holy shit. What did Mum do?’

Chapter Two

Piero Domenicali swung his silver Alfa Romeo into the rocky gap that formed the entrance to his property, Il Rifugio, passing the turning to Lucia and Durante’s place, Bella Vista. Parking in the shade of the cypress trees as June in Italy prepared to burst the thermometer, he yanked off his tie and flung it on the seat. When he’d knotted the blue silk this morning, he’d indulged in a sneaking hope it would win parental approval and help him strike some miraculous bargain: ‘Look, Papà, I’ll wear a tie and you accept I don’t want to sell my home … but I’m willing to sell the vineyard.’

The miracle hadn’t happened. Salvatore had talked persuasively, lifted supplicating hands, hugged Piero and acknowledged the sacrifice he was asking his youngest son to make. Big brother Emiliano had followed suit. Of course, his father and brother wanted to accept the deal and sell everything; Emiliano’s home was safely down the hill in the town of Montelibertà and Salvatore planned to buy a smaller place and spend much of his time travelling. It was only Piero’s home and that of Lucia and Durante that the Binotto group were insisting on buying before they’d commit to buying the family vineyard.