She sped over the cobbles, dialling Ursula as she went. Ursula, though sounding surprised, said, ‘I’ve finished FaceTiming Steph so I’ll come straight down. Can you walk to Via Virgilio so I can find you?’ She’d been Zia’s bestie for too long to ask a load of questions. She just did as she was asked.

Questions would no doubt come later.

Piero could have tossed some euros on the table and raced after Zia but decided it might be better to put a stop to Nicoletta’s game, especially as she’d dropped down into Zia’s vacated chair and was looking around as if for a waiter.

Not enjoying the frankly curious gazes from fellow patrons of the café, Piero sat down too. ‘What the hell are you playing at?’ he hissed.

Nicoletta turned beseeching eyes on him. ‘We were going to be married, Piero.’

‘No, we weren’t,’ he reminded her brutally.

Her eyes dropped. ‘But you know how I hoped …’ She gazed down into her lap. A tear dropped onto her light blue dress and made a darker spot. It was followed by another.

She could have mopped the tears at source and Piero knew she could be a drama queen but his heart softened. He and Nicoletta had been together for two years. He’d considered himself in love with her at one time, gauging ‘in love’ by experiencing the strongest feelings he’d so far felt for a woman. The passion had faded and marriage had been far from his mind but Nicoletta had been hurt.

‘You’re visiting Montelibertà?’ he probed gently.

She shrugged. ‘Living here again. My job in Milan’s gone. The economy’s bad in the north and I couldn’t afford to keep my apartment while I looked for another job. I hope to get work in Montelibertà because my sister says there are still tourists.’ She flicked a glance under her lashes at the word ‘tourists’ as if she expected him to look embarrassed. She must have heard Zia speaking English because she didn’t stand out as non-Italian on looks alone.

‘You’re living here?’ he repeated, not sure how he felt about the news.

A fresh tear rolled down her cheek and hit her dress. ‘With my sister.’

That explained a lot. There was a healthy sibling rivalry between them and it would rankle with Nicoletta to have to be beholden to her.

A waiter took her order for espresso, eyeing her tears with interest. Piero didn’t ask for a fresh cup for himself but found it hard to be so rude and unfeeling as to leave Nicoletta to cry into her coffee alone. He felt guilty about Zia but was sure that when he explained, she’d understand.