Zia held her breath. Finally hearing the truth was like standing on the high diving board and wondering whether you really wanted to launch yourself into thin air. The slap of the water when you landed could really hurt. She licked her lips. ‘Who was Gerardo?’

Lucia gave a watery smile. ‘Gerardo is my nephew. We have always had a special bond. Tori came to Montelibertà when she was eighteen. School was finished for her for a while and she wanted to travel. She worked in a bar where many tourists go and she met Gerardo. He was also eighteen.’

Vaguely, Zia registered Piero’s still presence. Like Ursula, he’d assumed the role of spectator.

‘Tori fell in love. Gerardo … for him it was different.’ Lucia gave a pained smile. ‘It is uncomfortable to tell you this but she knew he did not love her. She told me. Also, his parents would not accept a future for him with a British girl with no shared religion or background. Gerardo learned English at school but my brother Roberto and his wife, Fiorella, knew little. His parents felt she would take his mind from his work as a printer’s apprentice. He had to be up early, not staying out late to meet Tori when the bar closed. The family needed him to earn his wages because they were not rich. He was also attached to the university in Perugia, studying at home and attending exams.’

‘That’s a heavy workload,’ Ursula observed.

Lucia agreed. ‘He did not finish at university. Gerardo was the second of eight children. They wanted him to help his younger siblings, not romance a girl who would return home at the end of the summer.’

‘So, your nephew Gerardo’s my father?’ Zia whispered, closing her eyes against a dizziness that threatened to overwhelm her. ‘I can hardly believe I finally have the information after thirty years of wondering. That makes you my great-aunt. And there are grandparents and uncles and aunts and perhaps cousins?’

Durante stirred. ‘If you are Zia-Lucia, the daughter of Tori, then yes, Gerardo Costa is your father.’

Was it fanciful or did she catch a whiff of doubt in Durante’s voice? ‘Either Gerardo Costa is my father or he isn’t. Either Tori was my mother and the second Victoria Chalmers or she wasn’t. I need to be sure.’

‘Durante.’ Piero finally spoke. ‘Do you know the birth date of the baby Zia-Lucia? From memory, not from Zia’s passport.’

Durante screwed up his face in thought. ‘She is born in autumn, the year of the first regional football championship, Campionati di Eccellenza. I remember. I like football a lot then and support team Deruta.’ He glanced at Lucia for confirmation. Though her mind was spinning, Zia noticed their closeness, the way they automatically turned to each other.