‘Here,’ she said, opening a door under the stairs.

‘Grazie, grazie!’

He leapt down the stairs three at a time, shot into the tiny bathroom, and she heard the lock. Grinning in sympathy she slipped upstairs to check Nikki, who was asleep. As she returned to the kitchen and put on the kettle, Gino emerged looking a lot happier.

‘Thank you,’ he said fervently. ‘I’m sorry I shouted at you in Italian. Gabinetto means-’

‘I think I have a pretty good idea of what it means by now,’ she said, and they both laughed.

The kettle boiled, but when she turned to it he stopped her.

‘You sit down,’ he said. ‘I make the tea. You must be very tired.’

‘Thanks.’ She flopped gratefully into a chair. ‘Do you know how to make English tea?’

‘I watched you this afternoon. There, did I do it right?’

The tea was delicious.

‘How many evenings do you work behind a bar?’ he wanted to know.

‘Three, usually.’

‘On top of running this place? When do you have a life?’

‘Nikki is my life. Nothing else matters.’

‘And you are alone?’ he asked delicately.

‘You mean, do I have a husband? I did have. We were very happy, until Nikki was four years old. She adored Jack and he seemed to adore her. Anyone seeing them together would have said he was the perfect father.

‘Then something happened to her face. It began to grow too much, and in ways that it shouldn’t. You can see that her forehead is too large. And Jack left. He just upped and left.’

‘Maria Vergine!’ he exclaimed softly. ‘Un criminale!’

‘If that means what I think it does, yes.’

‘And the piccina, how much does she know?’

‘She knows that her father rejected her. She pretends not to, for my sake. But she knows.’

‘But is there no cure?’

‘Eventually they might be able to do some surgery that puts things right. But not now, while her bones are still growing. In the meantime, she has to wait and suffer. People can be so cruel. They think because she looks different she must be stupid.’