‘I flew to England,’ Lucia went on sadly. ‘I visited Tori’s address in Devon. No one answered at the door. A neighbour said there was a family death.’ Her eyes darkened with pain. ‘I could not lose you from my heart, Zia-Lucia. Were you well? Was Tori still unhappy in her mind? Had Vicky really had permission to take you? I returned a few weeks later and that time a man opened the door.’ She put a hand across her mouth, quivering on the edge of fresh tears. ‘He said his name was Harry, a friend of Vicky, and Tori had died. Vicky was looking after you very well but lived somewhere else now.’

Ursula murmured to Zia, ‘That ties in with Harry’s first letter.’

Zia nodded. ‘Was he kind to you? Harry?’ she asked Lucia huskily.

Lucia shrugged. ‘Yes, yes, I suppose,’ she admitted grudgingly. ‘But he would not tell me where you were and when he shut the door, I cried. A neighbour invited me into her home to drink a cup of tea.’

Zia managed a watery smile at this Englishness.

Lucia heaved a huge sigh. ‘The neighbour agreed Tori had died. She had an illness. I cannot remember the name but it comes to a few women after a baby.’

‘Post-natal depression?’ Ursula hazarded.

Lucia frowned. ‘Perhaps. It was long ago,’ she added apologetically. ‘But it made her ill in her mind. She did not see reality. She had wandered during the night and fallen a long way. That was how she died.’

Wandered during the night and fallen a long way … For a moment, Zia felt as though she might throw up. Her face and hands went cold and clammy. She had to force herself to listen.

Lucia continued. ‘The neighbour said Vicky would care for you well. They knew each other for many years. I went home but I was troubled. Ill in her mind, maybe, but Tori had given you to me to care for and I let you be taken away.’ She had to stop and blow her nose again. ‘Several years later I was at a trade show in Devon. Not Exmouth but Ex …’ She wrinkled her brow.

‘Exeter?’ Zia suggested.

Lucia nodded. ‘I think so. I called again. Harry was not patient, this time. He said Zia was fine, living in another part of the country. I should not to be upset and I should not visit again.’ Slowly, she pushed herself to her feet and opened her arms. ‘Zia-Lucia, I never found you but now you have found me.’

And then somehow Zia found herself on her feet and in a warm, soft, loving embrace.

Despite every crappy thing she’d heard today, it made her glad she’d come back to Montelibertà.

Chapter Seven

Saturday mornings had once been spent wandering through Montelibertà hand-in-hand with Nicoletta and maybe meeting friends for coffee. Now Saturday morning was workshop time for Piero.