going to be. I knew this from the start, before I even met you.
There it is, Adam. I wish you weren't a part of it, but you are, and you only have me to blame. Fausto and Maria acted out of loyalty to me, and I expect you to find it within yourself to forgive them. I expect no such thing for myself.
I cannot imagine what you are thinking right now, but let me say this. I lied to you, I used you, I even placed you in physical danger (although you were more closely protected than you are probably aware). All of these things are true, I don't deny them, but most of what passed between us was good and honest. I meant what I said to you just before we sat down to dinner at the party. I asked you then to remember my words. Do you? I hope so, because they are as true as any I have ever spoken.
You fell foul of an old woman looking to do the right thing by her dead son. It may seem enormous to you now, but time and the weight of experience will compress the painful memory of your stay at Villa Docci until it is just one slender stratum in the bedrock of your life. Try not to forget that.
With great affection, Francesca
Adam read the letter twice, steeping himself in the words.
When he returned to the terrace, he found his mother serving tea. She saw from his face that all was good and gave a small smile as she withdrew.
'I thought you were the one behind it all.'
'I know,' said Antonella. 'Maria had to make Maurizio believe it.'
'It wasn't just that. I saw Fausto leaving your house that last morning.'
Antonella exchanged a look with Fausto. 'He came to see me, to explain. We argued, but he persuaded me to play along. He said it wasn't for long. And it hasn't been, although it feels like it.'
She reached out and gingerly took his hand.
Fausto slid a book across the table—the book on Renaissance sculpture that Adam had lost in the pine park in Viareggio.
Adam fingered the tome, processing the information. 'That was you?'
Fausto nodded.
'You followed me there?'
Fausto nodded.
Adam's eyes remained locked on Fausto's.
'I'm sorry, Adam. Really.'
'Really?'
'Really.' 'Okay.'
'Good,' said Fausto with a beaming smile. 'That's very good.'
Their bags were collected from a small hotel near Purley station. They had taken rooms there, not knowing how things would go. This displayed 'an admirable lack of presumption' according to Adam's father, who had started to thaw a little. Fausto was assigned Harry's room, Antonella the guest bedroom at the far end of the corridor.
Adam took them off to the Stag and Hounds for a drink before dinner. Fausto had never seen darts played before and muscled in on a game, shamelessly filching cigarettes from his new and slightly bewildered friends.
It was the first time Adam had been alone with Antonella since her arrival, and it felt good.
'Hello,' he said.
She smiled and stroked his thigh beneath the table. 'How are you feeling?'
'Numb. Relieved.'
'Thanks for the present.'
'The present?'
'The rock in my kitchen.'
'Sorry, I didn't have time to wrap it.'
She laughed.
He glanced over at Fausto. 'Was Signora Fanelli involved?'
'Signora Fanelli?'
'I followed Fausto after he left your place. He went straight to see her at the
'So?'
'Well . . . they're close. I saw them kiss.'
'I think that is a new thing, after you arrived. Nonna says they used to be very close, but there was some problem. She is very happy about it.'
'I'm sure she is.'
