‘OK, I was sick of the subject,’ he ground out. ‘But from a couple of fucking oblique hints, I’m supposed to figure out my lover’s withholding vital information that could save my home?’

Zia flinched. Regret washed over her. ‘You’re right. I should have persisted. I could give you a contact—’

‘Brendon?’ he spat incredulously.

‘I was thinking of Elise,’ she replied evenly. ‘But, on second thoughts, in case I ever end up working for her, I think you should identify the right company yourself.’

‘Yeah, because I’m definitely on my own,’ he snapped. Then his phone rang and he snatched it up from his workbench. After a steadying breath he began talking to someone about a garden arbour. When, instead of drawing the conversation to a speedy conclusion, he turned his back and asked after the caller’s wife and family, Zia, heart like lead, took it as her invitation to leave.

Hollow and trampled, she dragged herself back to Bella Vista. She found Fiorella and Gerardo gone, meaning she had just over an hour to service two cottages. The Villino Il Pino guests had already arrived but she didn’t have time to introduce herself and go through what they needed to know. She armed herself with linens and cleaning things and subsumed her misery in a whirlwind of work.

The guests arrived full of questions and she had to fake a smile as she responded with information about the supermarket and went off to research whether there was a synagogue in Montelibertà.

Intending to ask, but calmly this time, for an explanation as to why Piero had blabbed to Gerardo, she returned to Il Rifugio after a few hours … only to find the Alfa Romeo absent and house and workshop shut up. She sent him a text asking to talk. By the time she fell into bed that evening she felt as if someone had filled her veins with ice.

No answer from Piero.

It was odd to be alone in bed. Tonight, for the first time she’d locked the apartment door, probably a reaction to Gerardo calmly walking in and looking through her things. Sleepless, the hot darkness seemed to press on her and the only sound was the hum of cicadas outside. For the first time it annoyed rather than soothed her, getting inside her head, a constant creaking she couldn’t switch off.

She checked her phone, the screen creating a brief oasis of light. Nothing from Piero. She settled back onto her pillows, her thoughts pulsing as incessantly as the cicadas.

Shame was a cold companion. She’d taken her hurt out on Piero without even acknowledging how much he must want her to stay to have gone behind her back. She should have listened to his explanation. Been calm and clear about why his high-handed piece of meddling had been worthy of Brendon at his worst. Sickening disappointment had been inevitable but furious accusations had not.