Nicoletta turned beseeching eyes on him. ‘We were going to be married, Piero.’

‘No, we weren’t,’ he reminded her brutally.

Her eyes dropped. ‘But you know how I hoped …’ She gazed down into her lap. A tear dropped onto her light blue dress and made a darker spot. It was followed by another.

She could have mopped the tears at source and Piero knew she could be a drama queen but his heart softened. He and Nicoletta had been together for two years. He’d considered himself in love with her at one time, gauging ‘in love’ by experiencing the strongest feelings he’d so far felt for a woman. The passion had faded and marriage had been far from his mind but Nicoletta had been hurt.

‘You’re visiting Montelibertà?’ he probed gently.

She shrugged. ‘Living here again. My job in Milan’s gone. The economy’s bad in the north and I couldn’t afford to keep my apartment while I looked for another job. I hope to get work in Montelibertà because my sister says there are still tourists.’ She flicked a glance under her lashes at the word ‘tourists’ as if she expected him to look embarrassed. She must have heard Zia speaking English because she didn’t stand out as non-Italian on looks alone.

‘You’re living here?’ he repeated, not sure how he felt about the news.

A fresh tear rolled down her cheek and hit her dress. ‘With my sister.’

That explained a lot. There was a healthy sibling rivalry between them and it would rankle with Nicoletta to have to be beholden to her.

A waiter took her order for espresso, eyeing her tears with interest. Piero didn’t ask for a fresh cup for himself but found it hard to be so rude and unfeeling as to leave Nicoletta to cry into her coffee alone. He felt guilty about Zia but was sure that when he explained, she’d understand.

It was half an hour before he could find the right moment to express his sympathy at Nicoletta’s plight but gently remind her that their relationship was over. He drove back to Il Rifugio and jogged through the cypresses, only to find Zia’s car absent and Villino Il Pino locked up. He was frustrated but not shocked. It couldn’t have been nice when Nicoletta descended, making wild claims. Zia and Ursula were almost at the end of their holiday and had probably gone out for the day.

He tried to phone Zia but his call went straight to voicemail. Standing outside the locked cottage door, he left a voice message. ‘Zia. I’m sorry that happened. There’s nothing between Nicoletta and me now …’ He hesitated, then added, ‘But I’d rather explain in person if you’d let me know when you come back.’ He repeated the same information in a text then changed and went to his workshop to occupy himself while he waited.

The call never came.

Euphoric didn’t begin to describe Ursula’s emotional state on Monday morning.