‘No, I suppose I should apologise,’ she said wryly.

‘Don’t spoil it. I’m impressed-almost as impressed as I was when you dealt with Mary. I made a note then not to get on your wrong side. Can’t you tell that I’m shaking in my shoes?’

‘Oh, stop it,’ she said, laughing unwillingly.

‘It’s natural that your nerves should be on edge after what you’ve been through.’

‘And stop being sympathetic and understanding. It doesn’t suit you.’

‘How shrewd of you to have spotted that!’

Another silence, until Vincente said in a voice full of relief, ‘Ah, here’s our main course.’

It was roast tenderloin of beef with sauce Béarnaise, served with red wine, which he poured for her.

Suddenly he spoke in Italian. ‘Ben told me you’d be valuable to him in Rome. He said you’d been there and spoke Italian pretty well.’

She replied in the same language. ‘I studied fashion in Rome before I married him. My Italian really isn’t that good. I haven’t spoken it for a while.’

‘It’s not bad,’ he said, reverting to English. ‘You’d soon become fluent again. How long were you there?’

‘Three months.’

‘And in that time you must have had many admirers.’

He spoke in a mischievous voice and she laughed in return.

‘I had flirtations. After all, you know-Italian men…’ She shrugged, keeping it light.

‘I know that no true Italian man could look at you without wanting to become your lover,’ he said in the same tone.

‘Maybe it wasn’t just what they wanted. Perhaps my own wishes came into it as well,’ she said with a touch of irony.

‘And you’re telling me that not one young man managed to make himself agreeable to you? Ai-ai-ai! The men of my race are losing their touch. Not a single one?’

‘I forget,’ she riposted. ‘There was such a crowd.’

He laughed aloud, his eyes gleaming with appreciation, and raised his wineglass in salute.