Ursula, her own woes set aside, cleared things from the seating area and, like obedient children, Zia and Lucia plummeted onto opposite sofas. Durante took the space beside his wife, linking his fingers with hers and staring at Zia with stunned brown eyes. Dimly, Zia was aware of Ursula whispering, ‘Do you want me to go? I could sit on the patio and you call me if you need me.’

Piero, his gaze flicking from Zia to Lucia to Durante, evidently had no intention of leaving Zia alone with his friends. That, together with his insensitivity in the gazebo, made her mutter through numb lips, ‘Stay, please.’ Ursula sank down at her side.

Piero perched on the arm of the other sofa. They were like two teams, staring at one another, the low table between them.

Lucia spoke first. ‘Are you Tori’s daughter?’

The words ripped through Zia, the possibility she hadn’t wanted to face suddenly feeling like the truth. ‘I don’t know,’ she whispered. ‘Am I?’

Lucia’s lip wobbled. ‘Your name …’ She gazed down at the now crumpled sheet in her hand.

Zia cleared her throat. ‘All I’ve been told about my name is that a woman called Lucia Costa was once kind to my mother. From letters, I think she lived in Montelibertà. I’ve been told my father’s Italian but I don’t know who he is.’

Slowly, Lucia’s round, homely face collapsed and she burst into tears. Durante slid his arms around her, cradling her as she sobbed, but he didn’t take his gaze from Zia. His voice was husky. ‘In the past, Lucia loves Tori. Tori lives in Montelibertà for a few months. When Tori’s daughter Zia-Lucia is only a few weeks old Tori brings her to us.’ He shook his head sorrowfully. ‘Tori is changed. Very strange. Upset, frightened.’ He creased his forehead and muttered something in Italian that Zia didn’t catch.

Piero translated, ‘Hysterical.’ Now dawning understanding had replaced wariness in his eyes.

Durante nodded. ‘Yes. She is … she is crazy. She ask Lucia to look after the baby – you – for a short time but she disappear. We do not know what to do so we look after you and wait, two days, three, four, five. Then, Tori’s mother Vicky comes.’

Zia nodded and sipped shakily from her glass, steadied by the alcohol.

Like a hostess remembering her duties, Ursula fetched more glasses and the rest of the wine. Soon, all five of them sat around the low table clutching drinks like the first guests at a party.