‘Unless you refuse to sell your land.’ Durante stuck out his chin.

Lucia gave her husband a look. ‘He’s in a horrible position,’ she chided.

Piero groaned. ‘There’s certainly no good choice. Talking to Zia last night I began to hope we might have enough leverage to stop the sale. But today I imagined telling Papà that. It would be hard.’ He raised his hands and let them drop.

Durante looked as if he might cry. ‘We should be making plans for the cottages next year but how we can we? Lucia wants to try running courses – maybe a week in June and one in September. Some tourists like writing holidays or painting holidays so why not ceramics? But we’d need to start advertising in September. Get it on our website.’

The printer stopped and Durante reached for the sheaf of papers it had churned out then passed them to Lucia.

‘If only there was another buyer for the vineyard on its own,’ she said drearily, picking up the top sheet of paper. Then she froze, her mouth dropping open. The sheet began to shake in her hand. ‘Zia,’ she breathed.

‘What? What, Lucia?’ demanded Durante.

Piero regarded Lucia with concern, not liking her pallor and the blank shock in her eyes. ‘I saw Zia in your gazebo on my way here. What’s the matter?’

But Lucia was already scrambling out from behind the desk. Almost sending Fiorella and her tray of coffee flying in the doorway, she ran from the room.

Piero and Durante exchanged glances then set off after her.

Chapter Six

Zia had finished her bottle of water and needed a new coat of insect repellant against the late afternoon bug patrol. That’s why she’d returned to the cottage, she told herself, not because Piero had made her feel as welcome as a turd at a pool party.

But when she stalked into Villino Il Pino she found Ursula on the sofa with red-rimmed eyes, clutching her phone. Ursula gave a huge sniff. ‘Steph’s just phoned in a filthy temper. That bloke – you know, the white knight who brought me home from the hen party? – turned up at our house.’

Ire forgotten, Zia let the bag of letters slip from her shoulder and thud to the ground. ‘What the hell for?’

Ursula wiped her eyes. ‘To ask if I was OK. He’d got to hear that another girl in the club that night had something put in her drink and woke up naked under the trees in Preston Park.’

‘No,’ Zia breathed, feeling sick as she plumped down beside Ursula. ‘Was she …?’