‘Any change?’ he asked.

‘No,’ she said in a despairing voice. ‘He just lies there without moving. If only he could open his eyes and see me.’

‘He had a massive heart attack,’ Vittorio reminded her. ‘He nearly died there and then, but he’s still alive, and that’s a good sign.’

It was thirty-six hours since Sam had been rushed into the hospital after his collapse. At first it had seemed as though nothing could save him, but the doctors and nurses had fought hard, and had finally made his condition stable. For the moment that was as much as could be hoped.

Since then Angel had stayed there, refusing to leave Sam’s side, except when asked to move so that he could receive attention. Then she would flatten herself against the wall, almost invisible but never taking her eyes off him, until she could move back.

‘Have you had any sleep?’ Vittorio asked now.

‘How can I sleep? I daren’t. That might be the moment when…’ She shuddered. ‘When he opens his eyes,’ she finished firmly.

‘What about Roy and Frank? Can’t they relieve you?’

‘I’ve sent them away. They’ve hardly had any time off since they arrived, and Sam won’t need them while he’s here. So I said they should take a few days’ holiday.’

Vittorio sat down on the other side of the bed from where he could partly see Angel’s face. In such a brief time she had become thinner, and drawn. If she’d looked at him he would have reached out and taken her hand, but she seemed barely aware of him, and he wondered if he himself was to blame. If there was a distance between them now, who but himself had set it there?

‘Berta packed a bag of overnight things for you,’ he said. ‘I left it there by your foot.’

She gave him a brief smile. ‘Thank you.’

Night was falling. A nurse entered, checked the machines, spoke a quiet word to Angel, and departed. They sat in silence for some time until something about the angle of her head made him lean closer, and discover that she was asleep.

He immediately fixed his attention on Sam, silently taking over her vigil, not moving until two hours had passed and Angel suddenly jerked awake.

‘Sam!’

‘He’s all right,’ Vittorio said. ‘I’ve been watching him. I’d have awoken you if there’d been any change.’

‘Thank you.’ Seeing him rise to his feet, she added, ‘Yes, you go home now and get some sleep.’

‘I’m just going to get you a coffee,’ he said.

He returned with refreshments for two, and she devoured hers, famished.

‘Can you remember when you last ate?’ he asked tenderly.

She shook her head, before draining her coffee.

He immediately went to the machine to replace it, returning also with a bottle of mineral water and some fruit, which he set beside her.

‘For later.’

‘Even Berta doesn’t look after me as well as this,’ she said gratefully. ‘But you must be tired. You don’t have to stay.’

‘No, I don’t have to,’ he said quietly, and sat down.

She smiled. ‘Thank you.’

After a while she said, ‘I didn’t get the chance to ask you what happened when he collapsed. How did you come to be alone with him in the garden?’

‘He came out to see me.’

‘Without Frank or Roy?’

‘I think he enjoyed giving them the slip. He was like a kid let out of school.’

‘Yes, he’s sweet when he’s in that mood. I remember playing truant once, and he caught me, and instead of being angry he was full of plans about running away and never having to go to school again. Then, of course, I began to see how impractical it was, and decided to go back.’

‘Which was what he’d meant all the time?’

‘Of course. He’s always so clever about things like that. Go on telling me what happened.’

‘We had a chat, then he started gasping, so I brought him in.’

‘What were you talking about?’

‘Oh, this and that, silly things, nothing much.’

Inwardly Vittorio cursed himself for his own clumsiness. He could hardly tell her that Sam had been planning to make him his heir, even though it had been no more than a fantasy. Yet when he tried to think of something else his mind seized up, no ideas would come, and he was reduced to ‘this and that’.

But, to his relief, Angel didn’t seem to notice anything unsatisfactory about his answer, and soon she nodded off again.

She’d moved her chair further up the bed, so that she could rest her head against a chest of drawers, giving him a better look at her face. Angel had largely disappeared, leaving behind a woman who was a stranger to glamour. Her figure slumped inelegantly, her face was exhausted and ravaged by fear and grief. She was closer to plain than he had ever seen before, and his heart was wrung for her. He had to fight an impulse to take her into his arms, and draw her head onto his shoulder so that she might find rest with him.

He didn’t yield, but he couldn’t resist the temptation to kiss her, doing it so gently that her sleep was not disturbed.

They lived like that for two days. For all that time he acted as her servant, fetching and carrying for her, returning to the villa and bringing her back meals from Berta. Because Vittorio stood watch she was able to snatch precious hours of sleep.

As the time passed without Sam regaining consciousness Vittorio could see in Angel’s face that she knew what was to happen.

‘It’s been so long,’ she said sadly. ‘I think I could just about bear losing him if only he would wake and speak to me, just once.’

‘Will that really make so much difference?’ he asked, for he was afraid for her. ‘He knew how much you loved him. Isn’t that what really matters?’

‘I know that’s the sensible way to see it, but I long so much for a few more minutes, just to look into his eyes and know it’s really him.’

‘Have you tried talking to him?’

‘I did at first, but what’s the use? He can’t hear me.’

‘How do you know? They say hearing is the last sensation to go. He might be able to hear everything. Talk about your childhood, remind him of that time you played truant. Say anything, so that he can hear your voice.’

For hour after hour Angel leaned close, calling back moments from her childhood that she hadn’t remembered for years. As she did so it seemed to her that the whole of their time together was being relived there in that quiet room.

Sometimes Vittorio slipped away to give her privacy, but sometimes he stayed because he couldn’t bear to leave. In those hours he felt he learned more of her than ever before, and gradually a picture built up in his mind of the lonely, hurt child she had once been, and the old man who had overturned his life to make her happy. He began to see Sam as he had once been, a trickster, a wit, a loveable idiot, and the most generous, great-hearted man who had ever lived. He understood now why she had repaid the debt, overturning her own life to make his last years happy. And he knew that if Sam died without speaking to her, he would feel her pain as his own.

She was asleep when the moment came. It was Vittorio who, watching closely, saw the first flutter of Sam’s eyelids and nudged her.

‘Wake up,’ he said urgently. ‘Angel, wake up!’

‘What-?’

‘Look at his face,’ he said, full of joy for her.

There was a long moment when the two of them held their breath, then Sam’s eyes opened. He was looking straight at Angel.

‘Sam,’ she breathed. ‘Darling Sam. Thank goodness you’ve woken up.’

Vittorio slipped out to call the doctor.

‘Woken-up?’ Sam murmured.

‘You’ve been unconscious for days, I thought you’d never wake.’

‘Where am I?’

‘In the hospital, in Amalfi.’

A long silence. ‘Where?’

‘Amalfi-you know, where we live now.’

In the long silence she thought she understood the worst. Even so she wasn’t prepared for the blankness in his eyes as he said, ‘What are you talking about? Who are you?’

‘But you know me,’ she said frantically. ‘I’m Angela. Please, please say you know me.’

‘But I don’t know you. I’ve never seen you before. Who are you?’

Vittorio, returning with the doctor, heard her desperate cry of ‘Sam!’ and came in to find her lying with her arms around him. But Sam didn’t return her embrace. His eyes were closed again and his hands lay still on the bed.

Roy and Frank returned for the funeral of the old man for whom they’d had a genuine affection. Everyone in the house turned out to say goodbye. In the short time he’d been there, Sam had become a favourite.

Next day Angel drove the lads down into Amalfi and dropped them at the bus stop.

‘I’m so grateful to both of you,’ she said. ‘I always knew he was safe in your hands, and that meant the world to me.’

She handed them each an envelope. ‘A little bonus to show my appreciation.’

They exclaimed over the amount, but Frank said, ‘Are you sure? It’s a lot.’

‘It’s worth it to me. Goodbye both of you.’

Vittorio was waiting for her outside the villa.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked at once. ‘You should have let me do it.’

‘No, I owed them that.’

‘Come inside,’ he said, taking her hand.

She was glad. It meant she wasn’t alone as she entered the house.

‘Berta’s prepared you a special meal,’ he told her.

‘Stay and eat it with me.’

She smiled over dinner and made cheerful conversation. Vittorio waited for her to talk about Sam, ready to do anything she wanted, but she seemed determined to avoid the subject.

She’d wept over Sam’s death, but then dried her tears quickly, and had not cried again, even at the funeral. It struck Vittorio as unnatural. She’d loved Sam more than anyone, but now it was as though she’d made a decision to control her feelings.

At the funeral he’d thought how lovely she looked, being one of those women whose beauty was enhanced by black. But a shadow had settled over her face, and he guessed that it was there for ever now.

He took some plates out to Berta and when he returned Angel was no longer there. Instinct took him into Sam’s room, and there he found her, in semi-darkness, looking around at the emptiness.

‘I took such trouble to make everything perfect for him,’ she said huskily. ‘And he was here such a little time. I used to dream of our life, how I’d look after him, how close we’d be when I could really be with him instead of having to give Joe all my time.

‘And then it was all over, and he died without knowing me. That’s the bit I can’t bear. I kept thinking we’d be close at the end, but he just asked who I was. Then he died, not knowing me.’

‘He was a very sick man at the end-it doesn’t mean he didn’t really know you-’

‘But it does,’ she cried, her brave surface collapsing suddenly. ‘He died a stranger, and I can’t bear it.’

He pulled her into his arms, knowing that no words could help. It might be illogical that a few moments could count more with her than the happier times that had gone before, but he knew that logic had nothing to do with it.

He held her, stroking her hair and rocking slightly, until her sobs subsided. Then he said softly, ‘Come to bed, and let’s be together.’

Soon it would be the time for harvest. Every day they went along the tiers of lemons so that he could caress the fruit and sense through his skin when the right moment would be.

‘Perhaps ten days,’ Vittorio said once.

‘It looks ripe to me.’

‘But not to me. Trust me. Ten days. It’ll be a fine harvest, and profitable.’

Angel longed for the harvest to be over. There were so many questions about the future, but they must wait until the work was done.

She knew what she wanted. Him. Always. It wasn’t just the passion that made her body sing. That was wonderful, but she needed more. And he had given her more. Since Sam’s collapse he had shown her all the tender consideration of a husband, always at her service, asking nothing for himself. Now she no longer doubted either her love or his.

It had to be marriage. To go on as they were, with him as her employee, was impossible. His pride would forbid it. But as her husband he would regain his rightful place as master of the estate. It was very simple, really. She had only to find the right time to ask him. For she guessed that the suggestion of marriage must come from her. That was another matter where his pride would prove awkward. But she no longer had any doubts that things would work out well for them. The way ahead was clear.

There was a brief interruption in the form of a phone call from a man called Gino Tradini, which she found almost completely incomprehensible.

‘He seems to be a customer for our lemons, but he’s decided not to buy any more,’ Angel told Vittorio. ‘At least, I think that’s what he said.’