‘Yes, it was. Thank you. Where did you find it?’

‘It had fallen through a hole in the bottom of one of the wardrobes.’

Berta tut-tutted. ‘There now! Such a state some of the furniture’s in! But you’ll be able to see to it, won’t you?’

To Angel’s surprise, this was addressed to Vittorio.

‘Why should you say that?’ she asked. ‘Now that Signor Tazzini’s property has been found I see no reason for him to come here again.’

Berta’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘Oh, dear! You haven’t said-’

‘Haven’t said what?’ Angel asked, her eyes kindling.

‘It’s only-you knowing nothing about the estate,’ Berta faltered, ‘and the padrone knowing so much…’

‘Perhaps you’d better leave us for a moment, Berta,’ Vittorio said quietly.

‘Si, padrone.’

It was the word ‘padrone’ that reduced Angel’s patience to danger level. Berta had called him ‘master’ because that was how she still saw him. And the way she scuttled out underlined the unwelcome fact.

‘Do you mind telling me what’s going on?’ Angel said coolly. ‘Because everyone seems to know, except me. In fact, you seem to have made quite a few decisions that I know nothing about. Perhaps it’s time you informed me.’

‘All right, it’s very simple,’ he said in a hard voice. ‘You need an estate manager, a real expert, and that means me. You haven’t a hope of doing it on your own, you’ve already proved that.’

‘Damned cheek!’

‘Well, face facts. You don’t know the first thing about the lemons you grow, not even what type they are. How often do they need watering? How long between planting and harvesting? How often do they flower? The whole prosperity of this place depends on intensive knowledge, or your harvest will fail. And I didn’t spend years working myself to a standstill to see you throw it away.’

‘If that’s your way of asking me to hire you, you’re making a very bad job of it.’

‘Don’t waste my time with that sort of talk. I’m not asking you to hire me. I’m telling you. You don’t have a choice.’