AFTER that Gino began giving Nikki what he called ‘history lessons’, but which seemed to concentrate almost entirely on the most bloodthirsty aspects of Italy’s past.

‘Isn’t she a little young to be learning about Lucrezia Borgia?’ Laura asked.

‘Why? Lucrezia’s great fun.’

‘I don’t suppose her victims thought so. How many is she supposed to have poisoned?’

Gino grinned. ‘Between you and me, she probably never poisoned anyone. But don’t tell Nikki. She’d be very disappointed.’

Now that he was earning, Gino had increased the rent he paid Laura. She tried to protest, but he said, ‘Silenzio!’ with a tone that was unusually imperious for him, and refused to discuss the matter further.

He slipped easily into the life of the boarding house. He was a good listener, always ready to lend a sympathetic ear, and was soon in possession of all the details of the feud between Claudia and Bert. At the best they maintained an armed truce. At the worst they went long periods without speaking. Nikki, who got on famously with both combatants, was adept at taking messages between them.

‘Claudia, Bert says did you eat the last cup cake?’

‘Bert, Claudia says she was doing you a favour because your waistline-’

‘Claudia, Bert says-’

And so on. In time, Gino took his own share of messages. He said it made him feel part of the family.

He also set himself to be useful around the house, mending, changing fuses, sometimes cooking the supper.

Three nights a week Laura went out to work, leaving Nikki in the care of the sisters, or Mrs Baxter. Gino would usually spend these evenings doing a little modest carpentry. He’d discovered that Laura tried to economise by buying flat-packed, self-assembly furniture. The plan never worked because she had no gift for putting things together. Since Bert and Fred were equally useless with their hands the house was awash with incomplete items.