Still, the interlude had dispelled Zia’s negativity about their mission and she found herself once again delighted with Italy and curious to discover what history she might have with Montelibertà. They unpacked the car and Zia swapped her ‘interview dress’ for shorts and a bandeau top. Driving over, apart from meaning they’d have a car while they were here, had allowed her to pack generously in case she chose to prolong her stay. Ursula had taken all three weeks of her remaining annual leave and they’d planned that she’d fly home if Zia wasn’t ready to go at the end of it.

Villino Il Pino’s rooms were painted white and the small windows were edged with stone. Its floors were terracotta, beautifully cool to bare feet, and crisp white sheets covered the beds. Ursula appeared in the doorway of Zia’s room, brandishing her phone. ‘Just got a text from Durante reminding us copies of our passports have to be taken for the authorities.’

Knees turning to jelly, Zia dropped onto a corner of the bed. ‘Potentially a turning point if Lucia notices my full name.’

Ursula came to perch beside her, legs long and smooth. ‘I could take the passports and try and shrug off questions … but you want information, don’t you?’ Her eyes were sympathetic but also puzzled.

‘I do but it’s scary. You’re being fantastic with my dramas.’ Zia hugged her friend’s willowy frame, breathing in the smell of the high-factor sun lotion she used on her pale skin.

Ursula hugged her back. ‘Sure, you know I love a good puzzle.’

‘How about I take the passports and play it by ear?’ Zia suggested.

Though looking faintly disappointed that Zia wanted this tricky moment under her control, Ursula agreed, ‘Sure,’ and passed hers over.

The late afternoon sun blazed as Zia followed the dusty pathway past the olive trees, climbing the steps to the terrace and knocking on the door to the main house. Durante answered, his fringe of hair wafting like grey candy floss. ‘Ah, you have the passports. Grazie. Lucia buys printer ink now so I scan now and print later. OK?’ He led Zia into the cool interior of the house to a small office where a well-used desk looked spacious enough for two. It was old-fashioned but the black printer-scanner and streamlined aluminium computer were bang up to date.

Durante opened the first passport – Ursula’s – and slid it under the scanner lid. The machine hummed and sighed into action. ‘You like Villino Il Pino?’ He flashed one of his ready smiles. ‘You like Italy?’

‘I love both,’ Zia answered promptly. ‘I’ve been to Italy often but never to Umbria. It’s beautiful.’