The woman spoke in Italian. Alysa picked up ‘introdurre’, and guessed it meant ‘introduction’.

‘I am Signorina Alysa Dennis,’ she said.

The older woman nodded and switched to English.

‘I am Signora Fantoni, and this is my granddaughter, Tina.’

Tina had been watching Alysa over her father’s shoulder, her eyes bright. Now Drago set her down and she immediately turned to Alysa, holding out her hand, speaking English slowly and carefully.

‘How do you do, signorina?’

‘How do you do?’ Alysa returned.

‘We came here because of my mother,’ the child said, like a wise little old woman. ‘Did you know someone who died?’

Beside her, Alysa heard Drago give a sharp intake of breath, and her heightened sensitivity told her everything.

‘Yes, I did,’ she said.

Incredibly she felt a little hand creep into hers, comforting her.

‘Was it someone you loved very much?’ Tina asked softly.

‘Yes, but-forgive me if I don’t tell you any more. I can’t, you see.’

Without looking at Drago, she sensed him relax. He’d been afraid of what she might say in front of his little girl.

Tina nodded to show that she understood, and her hand tightened on Alysa’s.

‘It’s time to go home,’ Drago said.

‘Yes, I’ll be leaving too,’ Alysa agreed.

‘No!’ Drago rapped out the word so sharply that they stared at him. ‘I mean,’ he amended quickly, ‘I would like you to join us tonight, for supper.’

His mother-in-law frowned. ‘Surely a family occasion-’

‘We all belong to the same family of mourners,’ Drago said. ‘Signorina, you will dine with us. I won’t take no for an answer.’

He meant it, she could tell.

Drago stroked his daughter’s hair. ‘Go ahead to the car with your grandmother.’

Signora Fantoni glared, silently informing him of her disapproval, but he ignored her and she was forced to yield, taking Tina’s hand and turning away.