Fireflies flickered like defective fairy lights. The rosemary-scented evening was windless after another blazing August day. Nearing the house she caught the familiar undulating wail of woodworking machinery. Though her heart faltered she continued across the paving towards the workshop beyond the house, moss springy beneath her flip-flops. Little was visible down the valley but lights from Tenuta Domenicali and a darker dusk where the mountains awaited dawn to once again reveal their majesty.

The workshop doors were rolled back and she stepped hesitantly into the light, pulse racing. Piero, wearing his protective gear of red ear protectors and a white dust mask was guiding timber through the planer, a fountain of sawdust being caught in mid-air by the extractor. Neeeeee-oowwww. His torso flexed as he leaned into his task. Neeeeee-oowwww. He turned to add the machined piece to a stack and froze as he caught sight of her. For several seconds he stared. Then he pressed a switch and the machine rumbled into silence. He pulled off the mask and hung the ear protectors around his neck. ‘Anything wrong?’

A couple of steps further into the room and then she halted again. ‘Lucia’s OK, if that’s what you’re asking.’ She watched his shoulders relax a notch. ‘I came to tell you something.’

He waited. The mask had left tracks in the stubble either side of his mouth.

She licked suddenly dry lips. ‘Gerardo has repeated his offer to acknowledge paternity to the authorities but this time with no fee attached.’

He made no reply.

‘So,’ she went on doggedly, aware he was making this hard work. ‘I thought you ought to know he’s done it. Thank you if you put him up to it but I won’t be taking him up on his offer. I don’t want to owe him a favour. Sooner or later, he might try to call it in.’

Still Piero said nothing.

She stepped close enough to catch the smell of his skin. ‘I’m sorry I was so unreasonably angry. I’ve come to hate men trying to control me and I viewed your attempt to help in that light. I overreacted.’ She ground to a halt.

After a few seconds he gave a nod. ‘OK. Excuse me. I have a schedule. I wish you happiness, Zia,’ he added. Then he restored mask and ear protectors to their proper places and switched the machine back on.

Stung, she wheeled about and strode back to Bella Vista, using her phone as a torch as darkness threw down its cloak. Her cheeks burned. Why the hell was Piero behaving as if he had the moral high ground? It had been like talking to the wood he’d been working. Was he one of those people who reacted to being in the wrong by shutting down their emotions? Yet she remembered all the times she’d read his feelings in his eyes, in bed together, laughing over a meal.