Suddenly she appreciated the ways in which Lucia was being torn. Betray Gerardo? Or keep secrets from her brother and sister-in-law? Encourage Zia to have a chance to know Gerardo? Or hope Gerardo be permitted to leave his mistake in the past?

‘Lunch, I think.’ As if aware of the same enormous emotional can of worms Lucia turned to practical matters and bustled off to clatter in the kitchen. Zia and Ursula, their offers of help refused, decamped to the terrace table in the shade, while Durante ambled in and out with oil and balsamic vinegar, paper napkins in a metal box, glasses, wine, water and cutlery.

‘How’re you doing?’ whispered Ursula when he was on one of his trips indoors.

‘Head spinning,’ Zia murmured back.

Ursula edged closer. She smelled of coconut suntan cream. ‘That was your grandmother,’ she breathed.

‘Apparently.’ Zia realised her fists were clenched and forced herself to let them relax.

Then Durante reappeared with a platter of antipasti and Lucia a salad bowl and warm crusty bread that smelled mouth-watering. The conversation turned to easier topics than family conundrums.

Lucia launched into an explanation of the courses on painting ceramics she planned for next year. ‘Here, where it’s shady.’ She waved at the tiled overhang they sat beneath. ‘And there is also a storeroom to be turned into a studio. Participants will stay in the cottages and at the end of the house we have a tiny apartment, also. It’s not ready for guests yet but by next year, yes. In the past it was maybe for a relative.’

‘A granny annexe,’ Ursula put in, helping herself to large slices of glowing red tomato glistening with olive oil and herbs.

‘A what?’ Durante demanded and laughed when Ursula repeated it.

‘We will employ someone here to cook and I will teach.’ Lucia looked pleased at the idea. ‘Painting ceramics was my training when I was young, before I owned the factory and was a businesswoman.’

Durante helped himself to slices of salami and an enormous hunk of warm bread. ‘Her designs are beautiful,’ he confirmed. ‘She won prizes.’

‘That sounds fascinating.’ Ursula’s artist’s soul was obviously intrigued and she questioned Lucia as they enjoyed the rich meats and crumbly cheeses before them.

Lucia sighed. ‘Let us hope we are here next year.’ Then she slapped the table. ‘No, we will not be driven out!’ Her scowl switched to a smile. ‘Especially now Zia has told us things may not be as black as we feared.’

With a wriggle of alarm, Zia replied, ‘As I told Piero, I’m no expert. You need to see a lawyer.’

Lucia nodded. ‘On Monday.’ Then she pointed her fork at Zia as if the sound of her neighbour’s name had reminded her of something. ‘It’s Piero’s birthday on Friday and we’re giving him a lunch. Would you like to join us?’