In the past decade Emiliano Domenicali has taken over from father Salvatore as the winemaker. He says, ‘In our small vineyard we use the best of old and new methods to ensure a characterful product. Our grapes are harvested and sorted by hand but fermented in temperature-controlled stainless-steel tanks to preserve the hallmark freshness.’ Next to his quote was a picture of a slightly older, less sculpted version of Piero.

Salvatore, still very much involved in Tenuta Domenicali, is proud his sons are continuing to produce wine in the traditional way. A picture of an older man with beetling brows and a lurking smile in his eyes.

The commercial side of Tenuta Domenicali is in the hands of younger son Piero who developed the story around the wine. It’s he who finds the restaurants and other clients to appreciate it. Piero appeared more relaxed than his brother and father, his hair falling over his forehead and lips quirked on a half-smile.

The information about the Denominazione di origine controllata or DOC classification, roughly equivalent to the French Appellation d’origine contrôlée that defined quality standards, proved less interesting.

Zia returned to her task of choosing a private investigator to find Harry; he who might know why Tori had left Montelibertà a bright, lively, loving girl and reappeared as a wildly unbalanced young mother. Some organisations called themselves ‘tracing agents’ rather than private investigators but they all offered results via information from national and local registers, credit applications, company appointments, utility and phone billing, marketing surveys and Post Office redirects. It dispelled her visions of someone pounding the pavements in a trilby and trench coat.

Finally, she selected a site and entered her details, ticking Trying to trace family member/friend then entering Harry’s name in the space reserved for target. The term gave her an uncomfortable feeling, as if she wished Harry harm instead of just wanting to talk to him about Vicky and Tori. Consulting one of his old letters, she typed in his last known address.

She’d just realised her credit card was still in Villino Il Pino so she couldn’t pay and submit without intruding on Ursula’s privacy, when she caught sight of a familiar figure crossing the drive. The figure waved and changed course towards her. Suppressing an urge to smooth down her clothes, she smiled as Piero drew near.

‘Ciao,’ he called and took the other seat at the table, brushing back his hair as the wind’s fingers combed it mischievously into his eyes. ‘Thanks for leaving the glass in the workshop. You saved me a long trip on a tricky day.’

As he’d brought the subject up, she felt able to ask, ‘How did the family conference go?’

He snorted. ‘Apparently, Graziella’s been interpreting lawyers’ emails in the way she thought most likely to result in the Binotto deal going through. The law firm agreed with your view of the access question all along.’