A picture of Piero flashed into Zia’s mind, the smile that told her he was aware of her, his easy walk, his obvious discomfort over his own family situation.

‘Others come, too.’ Durante wiped up herb-speckled oil with a corner of bread and popped it into his mouth. ‘Two ladies Piero likes.’

Ah. Zia said nothing.

Ursula flicked a glance in her direction before asking casually, ‘Oh? Is one Piero’s girlfriend?’

Eyes crinkling, Durante shook his head. ‘I think no.’

Lucia washed down her mouthful with a sip of rich red wine. ‘I think he has no girlfriend since a year. He was going to be married—’

‘Ha,’ interrupted Durante.

Lucia frowned him down. ‘Perhaps he was to be married. But, then …’ She walked her fingers in the air, miming someone going away. Zia would have liked to know more but Lucia began to question Ursula about her interest in art, so Zia just enjoyed the delicious food and glorious view as she listened to Ursula talk about life as a tattoo artist. Little clouds hung like puffs of smoke in front of big clouds, chasing their shadows over the mountains. It was like a moving watercolour painting. How would the mountains look in winter with snowy peaks? Zia couldn’t imagine them being any more beautiful.

As the afternoon wore on, noises from the kitchen indicated that Fiorella was now working in there and it distracted Zia from the conversation. She was wondering whether she should screw up her courage to wander in and strike up a conversation when she heard tyres on gravel once again. Fiorella shouted something cheerily and Zia caught the word, ‘Roberto!’

She sat up. It hadn’t occurred to her that if Roberto had dropped Fiorella off the likelihood was that he’d pick her up again.

The engine cut. A car door slammed. A shuffle of feet heralded the appearance of a tall, rangy man climbing the terrace steps, bald on top but the rest of his hair and moustache pearly white. He greeted Zia and Ursula, gruff but polite, nodding and smiling. Then Fiorella hurried out of the house, complaining he was early. Roberto smiled again and shrugged.

Zia caught Lucia’s glance flicking anxiously to her. Fiorella and now Roberto had met their granddaughter without knowing it. Lucia did know it. Had always known it. Had never told them. Though he was as tall and lean as Lucia was short and round, he was her brother and the easy connection between them as they chatted was obvious.