‘Thank you for being so kind to him,’ Angel said once. ‘I love hearing him laugh with you.’

‘I’m not being kind. I enjoy his company. He’s fantastic. And he can beat me at chess.’

‘I wondered if you were letting him win.’

‘Well, I’m not,’ he said in a chagrined voice. ‘And stop laughing.’

‘I can’t help it. It’s so wonderful to see him happy.’

‘He really is the only person in the world whom you care for, isn’t he?’

She touched his face. ‘You know better than that.’

With such moments they got by, sometimes stealing some time alone together, but more often having to be satisfied with being in the same room in the company of others. Sam’s friendship had made Vittorio part of the family, and it was a rare evening when he didn’t join them to watch television, play chess and study Angel silently.

Rescue came in the form of a weekend of Celebration Road, which Sam was determined not to miss.

‘Episodes from the archives,’ he explained. ‘Some of them haven’t been seen for years, so you won’t disturb me, will you, darling?’

‘I promise,’ Angel said fervently. ‘Would you-would you mind if I was away overnight?’

‘Anything you like, darling. Oh, look, it’s starting!’

Leaving him blissfully content, she was able to escape with Vittorio to wander the streets of Amalfi, doing little, saying less, needing nothing but each other. They stopped off in a newsagent, and while he bought a paper she looked around the shop and noticed a poster, advertising a lottery with a big roll-over prize that week.

‘Hey, I want to enter that,’ she said. ‘One ticket, please.’

‘Me too,’ Vittorio called. ‘Will you get me one?’

‘What about the numbers?’

‘You pick them for me.’

She bought two tickets, giving two sets of six numbers, and joined him on the way out of the shop.

‘Here’s your…’ she began to say, but he interrupted her, pointing to where a horse and carriage waited by the kerb, the driver looking around hopefully.

‘That’s the best way to travel,’ Vittorio said.

‘Lovely!’

It was a charming vehicle, painted yellow with blue and white cushions, and a large sunshade. He handed her aboard, calling, ‘Anywhere!’ to the driver, who hopped up behind the horse, which set off.

‘I’ve seen these when I’ve been here before,’ Angel said in delight, as the horse trotted through tiny, winding streets. ‘I’ve always wanted to take one. Oh, I forgot, your ticket.’

He gave her the price of one ticket and she said, ‘Which one do you want?’

He shrugged. ‘You choose.’

Holding them up in one hand she began to intone, ‘Eeeny, meeny-hey!’

The yell was jerked from her as the carriage jolted hard, throwing her against him, and depositing the tickets onto the floor.

‘We went over a stone,’ Vittorio laughed, helping her up. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Sure, fine. It was just a bit unexpected. Vittorio?’

Suddenly she had lost his attention. He was staring over her shoulder, twisting his head further as the carriage moved on.

‘What’s the matter?’ she asked.

‘It’s him,’ he said. ‘It’s him!’

‘Who?’

‘Leo. My so-called friend who cheated me out of everything I had. I saw him…’

‘Are you sure? Where?’

‘There-no-in that street-driver, go that way, fast.’

The driver swore and began to back up.

‘Hurry!’ Vittorio shouted.

‘I have to turn the horse, signore,’ the driver shouted back indignantly.

Vittorio swore under his breath. ‘I can’t wait. He mustn’t get away from me.’ He flashed a glance at Angel. ‘Forgive me!’

Then he was gone, vaulting out of the carriage and tearing back down the road until he vanished down a side street.

‘Follow him,’ Angel called frantically to the driver. ‘Keep him in sight.’

At last the horse managed to turn, gather speed, and head for the street, arriving just in time for her to see Vittorio at the far end. In another moment he’d turned the corner and vanished.

‘Can’t you go any faster?’ she urged.

‘She is not a racehorse, signora.’

After what seemed like an age they reached the end of the street and found themselves facing the little harbour. There was no sign of Vittorio and nothing to show in which direction he’d gone.

‘Where now?’ the driver asked, drawing to a halt.

‘I don’t know. He’s vanished. I don’t know where he could be now.’

‘Some people will do anything to avoid paying,’ the man said cynically.

‘That’s not-’

‘I suppose he took your purse with him. It’s the oldest trick in the book.’

‘How dare you say that?’ she flashed, furious at his cynical judgement. ‘You know nothing about him.’

‘I know that he ran away without paying.’

‘Here’s your money.’

Angel pulled out some notes and pushed them into his hand before jumping out of the carriage. At the last moment she reached back for the lottery tickets which were still lying, unnoticed, on the floor.

But when she was alone there was a sense of anti-climax. What was she supposed to do now? Vittorio could have gone in either direction, and even if she turned the right way there were a hundred streets to choose from. She could be wandering for hours.

But at least walking would help calm her temper, which had risen to boiling point. The driver’s slander of Vittorio had caused an explosion inside her, astonishing in its force. What amazed her most was that she discovered how much of it was protectiveness.

He was the last man she would have thought of as needing protection: a hard man, unyielding, unforgiving, confident in his own knowledge and strength, his own power to dominate. That was Vittorio.

But then the need to stand between him and the world’s harsh judgement had come surging out of nowhere, shaking her, making her almost ready to kill to defend him. And suddenly she’d understood how vulnerable he was, more than he knew.

She had rejoiced in the passion that united them. Now she discovered that the longing to protect could be as powerful as desire, and far sweeter.

For the first time she dared to use the word love, and wonder at it. Her life had involved so much falseness, so many games of pretended love, that now she wondered if she could recognise the real thing. She only knew that she could not bear Vittorio to be hurt.

It was for that reason that she stayed there, going from street to street, while the daylight faded and the lamps came on, and all the while her heart was with him, wandering somewhere, tortured by a mixture of hope and despair.

At last she gave up and made her way back to the car. And there he was, sitting on a low wall, his hands clasped between his knees, his head sunk. Angel dropped beside him, slipping an arm around his shoulders.

‘You didn’t catch him?’

He shook his head. His body was trembling and she could feel his exhaustion.

‘Are you sure it was him?’ she asked gently.

Vittorio shook his head.

‘No, I can’t even be sure of that. I see him everywhere, but I never find him. It’s useless, hopeless.’

‘That’s not true. Nothing’s ever completely hopeless,’ she said, knowing how empty the words really were.

He took her hand.

‘I ran off and left you without warning, and you couldn’t even get into the car because I had the key. Why aren’t you angry with me?’

‘I guess I just can’t manage that. Besides, I could have called a taxi.’

‘You should have.’

‘No, I couldn’t go off and leave you alone while you were in trouble.’

He squeezed her hand. ‘You should have done,’ he said. ‘Let the madman wander on his own, until he wises up enough to know that he’s beyond help.’

‘Don’t talk like that.’

‘How else should I talk?’

‘You’re forgetting the lottery. You might win.’

He managed a faint grin. ‘Yes, I suppose I might win, but somehow I don’t think I’ll count on it.’ He gave her a weary smile that broke her heart. ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like to get angry at me?’

‘Not now. I haven’t the energy. Nor have you, from the look of you. When did you last eat?’

He shrugged.

‘There’s a little place over there. Come on.’

Vittorio was almost too tired to move, but Angel took charge, drawing him firmly to his feet and towards the little trattoria. They managed spaghetti, wine and coffee. They didn’t speak. She would gladly have talked but she could tell that he was silent not only because he was tired, but because he was exhausted to the point of emptiness. It was as if he had been hollowed out inside, leaving only a barely functioning shell. So she left him in peace.

‘I’ll drive you home,’ Vittorio said at last.

‘You’re not driving anywhere tonight,’ Angel said. ‘Tell me where you live. I’m going to take you there. You need to collapse, and the sooner the better.’

‘No,’ he said at once. ‘Not there.’

‘Then I’ll take you back to the estate.’

‘And sleep in your room? The padrona is too kind.’

‘Then you can have a room of your own. You should have one anyway, so that you don’t have to come all the way back here when you’ve been working late, which you often do, and…’

The words died at the look he gave her.

‘You are offering me a room in that house? A temporary room, of course, and only when the work justifies it.’

‘Don’t,’ she whispered. ‘Please don’t.’

His shoulders sagged. ‘I’m sorry. It’s unforgivable of me to take it out on you, especially when you’re being so kind. I know that, but I do it anyway, and I probably can’t stop. I warned you.’

‘Warning duly noted,’ she said tenderly. ‘Now, you’re tired, and I’m taking you home.’

He gave a faint, wry smile. ‘Which home is that?’

‘The one here in Amalfi, because it’s nearest and you need to get to bed. No more argument. It’s settled.’

‘Giving me orders?’

‘Yes.’

‘And if I refuse to give you the address?’

For an answer, Angel simply laid her hand over his, looking at him tenderly.

‘All right,’ he said.

There was no pleasure in her small victory. The cost to him was too high.

Following his directions, she found her way to a tiny, narrow street, and even in the semi-darkness she could see enough to dismay her. Berta had warned her of the worst, and the worst was true. Inside she found the meanest rooms in the meanest house in the meanest street.

Somehow the atmosphere was even more depressing with the light on. There was one main room, which doubled as bedroom and living room, with a tiny alcove that did duty as a kitchen, and a bathroom that looked like a converted cupboard.

The man who had once owned the Villa Tazzini now lived here. No wonder he’d been ashamed for her to see it. She wondered if he would have more bitter words, but he only looked at her without speaking.

‘You should go,’ he said. ‘I’ll call a taxi.’

She shook her head. ‘I’m not leaving you alone tonight.’

He managed a half-smile, full of wry defeat. ‘I’m good for nothing now.’

‘I didn’t mean that. I want us to talk.’ She took him by the shoulders. ‘We never have talked. We’ve fought and quarrelled and loved, but never simply talked as friends.’

‘Friends?’

‘We said once we were friends. We have to be that, too. Don’t you see?’

A gentle push made him sit down on the narrow bed. He didn’t speak at first, and she had to prompt him.

‘You told me about Leo, the friend who cheated you, but you didn’t say much about him. It doesn’t sound like you to be taken in, even by a friend.’

‘I trusted him totally. I’d known him all my life. Years ago we got into mischief together, courted the same girls and compared notes later.’

‘Shocking,’ Angel said fondly.

‘True. I was a rather disreputable character in those days.’

‘You and every young man who’s ever lived. I’d have liked to know you in your disreputable days.’

‘You wouldn’t. I was a rogue,’ he replied.

‘But I thought you devoted your whole life to running the estate. You made yourself sound like a positive puritan.’

‘If I did, I lied. I worked hard, but I had my fun. My father had to bail me out a few times.’

‘For what?’

‘The usual.’

‘Drunk and disorderly?’

‘Things like that, yes. Innocent fun. Leo was always there with me, and that’s when the firmest bonds were formed. With anyone else I’d have been on my guard, but when he guaranteed my safety I believed him. And when he turned out to be wrong, even then I’d have forgiven him if he hadn’t vanished and left me to face everything alone. I was easy prey for the creditors because I knew nothing. He’d taken the books with him. All that was left was a mess.’