It took Zia a moment to understand that this was more than a philosophical non sequitur. She glanced out at the flower gardens surrounding the house and realised Fiorella was right. Already weeds were daring to take root in the gravel and dead heads spotted the rose bushes, probably because Durante had had other things on his mind in the past week. She groaned. ‘I’d better remind myself how to look after plants.’ In her childhood, Zia had helped Vicky thin carrots or trim climbers but Joyce and Alf had employed a gardener so Zia’s horticultural education had ended there.

Fiorella left and Zia awaited the new guests. The couple for Villino Il Tasso arrived promptly, but the others, a French family, were late. Zia had barely used her schoolgirl French since her GCSEs so laboured along with Google Translate to show them around Villino La Quercia and respond to the enthusiastic questions about the region. She was, at least, able to tell them a little about the vineyard they overlooked, which seemed to satisfy their interest.

Finally, she escaped to the supermarket, buying lots of salad because it would be simple to prepare and flexible around interruptions. She was beginning to get the idea that being the sole person responsible for Bella Vista could be a tie.

All day she itched for updates on Lucia but refused to pester Durante, imagining the effect if all of Lucia’s big family – which included Zia, if you were precise – kept bugging him for information.

Piero turned up earlier than she’d expected, freshly showered and bearing a picnic. Zia suddenly realised how exhausted she was and flopped onto a terrace lounger in the shade. ‘You’re awesome.’

He squeezed onto the lounger with her, which he accomplished by pulling her into his lap and curling about her. ‘That’s very true.’ Though he joked, his smile was dim.

‘What?’ She pulled back to look up into his face, taking his sunglasses off his nose so she could read his dark eyes.

He sighed. ‘Durante telephoned. Lucia’s scan showed a peptic ulcer, hence her pain. Then the situation worsened abruptly this afternoon and she was rushed into surgery. He’s waiting for news but obviously scared stiff.’

Fear rippled through Zia too. ‘Is she in danger?’ She fought to keep her voice even.

A tiny hesitation told her she wasn’t going to receive much comfort. He said, ‘We don’t really know anything, yet.’ But he held her closer. Cuddling up was uncomfortably warm, though it was early evening, but Zia didn’t want to detach herself from his reassuring heartbeat.

As a distraction from wondering how poor Lucia was faring, she asked him how things were going at Tenuta Domenicali.