Horrible as both Ursula’s problems and Zia’s redundancy had been, at least Zia was no longer tripping over Brendon.

‘But Brendon’s still calling you,’ Ursula observed now. ‘Any chance of a reconciliation?’

Zia wrinkled her nose. ‘No, I was having doubts about us before he got caught in the act. He says he’s sorry but I suspect he’s only after forgiveness so he can feel better about himself. Unfortunately, I don’t find cheating easy to forgive. I only stay polite to him because if you and Stephan get back together, we’ll end up back in the same friendship group.’

Ursula sighed mournfully. ‘Don’t know if that will happen either.’ Her second sigh was longer and more mournful than the first. ‘I would have chucked myself into Devil’s Dyke without your shoulder to cry on these past couple of months. I’ll so miss you if you go away. You’re my rock.’

Perturbed by Ursula’s frequent descents into woefulness since her marriage hit trouble, Zia hesitated, chest tightening at Ursula’s anxious expression. Her friend’s emotional state was a worry. Ursula had scarcely come out of her room when she’d first moved in, until an understanding doctor and a little medication – plus a heap of TLC from Zia – had persuaded her that life was worth living. Privately, Zia cursed Stephan for refusing to attend couples’ counselling. Instead he occupied the marital home like the moral high ground, dishing out judgement on his sorrowful wife. ‘It’s not even definite that I’m going,’ she hastened to reassure her. ‘Maybe I’ve romanticised my whole history into something it’s not. Perhaps Lucia Costa was Mum’s midwife so she named me after her. My dad might have just worked at the local Italian restaurant and Gran assumed his nationality from that.’

Ursula’s forehead remained crumpled. ‘But you look Italian with your golden skin and shiny dark hair. I bet we discover your dad’s an Italian millionaire. He’ll spirit you off to his empire in Rome and it’ll be Ferraris and Armani all the way.’

Zia rolled her eyes. ‘Ha. More likely I’ll spend a bit of my redundancy payout on a holiday in Sorrento. You can come too.’

‘It’s a deal,’ replied Ursula, but without the grin Zia had hoped for.

They flicked through files in silence for several minutes. Then Ursula managed a half-laugh. ‘This seems to be correspondence relating to your grandparents selling their Spanish house. There’s a letter about the buyer asking for a price reduction and someone’s written, “Fat chance!” at the bottom.’

‘Gran, I expect.’ Zia giggled, taking the paperwork to see for herself.