Just for a moment she thought wistfully how great it would have been to have a dad who was a wonderful, positive presence, as some lucky people had. The nearest for her had been Alf, a kind and loving man but divided from Zia by generations. It was as well to face facts, though. The man who’d provided fifty per cent of her DNA was weak and self-orientated. Her instinct was not to rely on him in any way. She said, ‘Let’s go back to pretending you don’t know who I am.’

Gerardo, looking surprised and maybe relieved, mumbled, ‘OK.’ In moments, Zia heard the front door snick closed behind him.

Durante popped his head into the office and raised enquiring eyebrows. She gave him a smile as she sank back into her chair. ‘We’re not going to have anything to do with one another. I don’t know how to feel.’

His old smile flickered, replacing the careworn frown he’d worn since Lucia had fallen ill. ‘Your feelings will settle, no? You want ice coffee?’

She smiled at his gesture to make her feel better. ‘Absolutely! Let’s make it with hazelnut milk for a treat.’

The three of them – her, Lucia and Durante – settled in the shade outside to enjoy the cooling drink. Zia talked over Gerardo’s unexpected appearance with the kindly couple she was finally letting herself think of as her great-aunt and uncle.

Lucia, plainly wishing Zia could see Gerardo a little more as they did, offered tentatively, ‘He has a tendency to take the easy way out of situations and is capable of selfishness … but also of kindness to those he loves. He doesn’t always think how getting what he wants will affect others. If he told you he’s sorry then he is. He’s realised he was wrong.’

In the privacy of her mind Zia added, or someone has persuaded him to apologise to make me feel better. It could have been Fiorella or Roberto.

Or Piero had been at work again, maybe trying to make amends. For several days a need had been growing in Zia to end the horrible cold silence between them. This could be a good excuse. The damage was done between them but if she extended an olive branch – she had a whimsical vision of snapping one from the olive grove as she passed – it would make his proximity more bearable. After dinner that evening, without questioning herself too closely on why she’d showered and put on her red-flowered dress, she picked her way slowly through the trees towards Il Rifugio.