One Summer in Italy…

‘How did you know?’

‘It was fairly obvious where this story was leading. As you say, he came looking for a talented artist with a gift for copying. He chose England because he isn’t known there, plus you would be useful in getting the real picture out of Italy.’

‘It sounds so obvious,’ she said with a sigh.

‘Obvious to me, perhaps, but there’s no need for you to be so hard on yourself. What did you do next?’

‘I didn’t know what to do, so of course I did the wrong thing. I called him and told him what I’d found. He tried to sweet-talk me, and the more he talked, the more scared I became. I hung up. Then I ran out of the station, got rid of the picture, and went back.’

‘That wasn’t wise. You should have gone in the other direction.’

‘I know, but I’d left my luggage at the station. And when I got there the train was due out in ten minutes. It seemed best to get on it. I didn’t think anyone’s suspicions could have been aroused by then,’ she explained.

‘Bruno Vanelli is known in that area. He has a criminal record, and when that miniature vanished he was the first one they thought of. He was never more than one step ahead but he could have been safe if you’d got the picture out of the country. Hence his rush.’

‘But if you know all this, why am I telling you?’

‘Because there’s a missing piece of the puzzle that only you know. Exactly where did you leave the picture?’

Holly rose hastily and began to pace the floor, torn two ways, but he stopped her, fixing her with a gaze from his dark, brilliant eyes.

It came over her, with frightening intensity, how much trust she was being asked to put in this man. He was an officer of the law. If she told him what he wanted to know, what would happen next? Were the police waiting for her with handcuffs?

She looked up, terrified, and after a moment he nodded.

‘You have to trust me,’ he said. ‘I know that your experience has left you mistrustful, but if you don’t trust me, what will you do?’

‘I don’t know,’ she whispered.

Something in her rebelled at this situation. Inch by inch she was being drawn under his control and she would fight that to her last breath.

‘I don’t know,’ she cried.

Matteo took hold of her. His hands were hard and warm, reassuring even as they commanded.

‘Trust me,’ he said softly. ‘You must trust me. You do, don’t you?’

‘I-’

‘Tell me that you trust me. Say it.’

‘Yes,’ she whispered. She hardly knew she was saying the words. Something stronger than herself had taken her over, and it was no use fighting. She felt hypnotised.

‘Tell me where you left that package.’

‘There was a little church near the station,’ she said, trying to speak through her confused thoughts. ‘It’s very tiny with a-’

‘I know it well. I have friends in Roccasecca. Liza and I were visiting them, which is how we came to be on the same train. Go on.’

‘The church was empty when I went in, so I put the picture behind the altar. There’s a curtain covering a wall with a hole at the bottom. I slipped it in there.’

‘Are you telling me the truth?’

‘Yes-yes-’

‘Have you left anything out? Think hard.’

‘No, I put it there, I swear I did.’

At last he released her. ‘If you’re lying-heaven help us both.’

‘I’m not lying. But someone might have found it by now.’

‘Let’s hope not. You’ve been luckier than you know. Roccasecca was the birthplace of a mediaeval saint. The picture is reputed to be him, and it belongs to the very church where you left it. If we can find it, we can argue that no theft was committed, since it was returned to its rightful owners.’

‘But what can you do?’

‘I won’t let anything happen to you. I need you too much. You are useful to me as nobody else can be. Because of that you can trust me to defend and protect you as nobody else would do.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘Selfish motives are always dependable. Remember that, and feel safe.’

She nodded. It was true.

‘So, if the picture’s still there, I’m going to arrange for it to be discovered, without involving you.’

‘But how?’

He shrugged. ‘An anonymous message, maybe. Now, I suggest that you go to bed and forget about everything that’s been said tonight.’

‘But suppose-’

‘Suppose nothing,’ he said firmly. ‘Forget tonight. Don’t allow yourself to brood. That is where madness lies. None of us know what the future holds.’

Next morning Matteo left the house saying he would be away for a couple of nights. He did not speak to Holly before he left, not even a goodbye, and she had no logical reason for believing that his departure was anything to do with her.

She knew at once that Liza was upset by his absence, and gave herself even more completely than usual to the task of keeping her thoughts occupied. Liza asked again and again where her father had gone. Holly and Berta both reassured her that his journey was necessary ‘for work’, and she would calm down for a while, only to ask a few moments later, ‘He is coming back, isn’t he? You promise?’

When she finally fell asleep that night Holly went to her own bed, exhausted and worried. She only slept a short while before being shaken awake by Berta.

‘You must come at once. She awoke with a nightmare and I can’t comfort her.’

In Liza’s room Holly wasted no time with words, but simply got into bed with the child and hugged her until she fell asleep. As she lay holding her in the darkness she was coming to a decision.

Next morning she said to Berta, ‘Your room’s right next to Liza’s, isn’t it?’

‘So that I am always close if she needs me.’

‘Will you change rooms with me?’

‘But, signora, you are in the best guest room at the judge’s orders. He will be angry with me.’

‘Leave him to me,’ Holly said simply.

By the time Matteo arrived home next evening the transfer was complete. As she had promised, Holly took care of the matter.

‘Liza’s happier now I’m on hand all the time,’ she said. ‘In fact I’ve had the bed moved into her room, so I’ll just use mine as a dressing room. I hope that’s all right with you.’

He nodded. ‘I bow to your wisdom. Do what you think right. But I wanted you to have somewhere better.’

‘It’s the best of all, from Liza’s point of view. Does anything else matter but that?’

‘Of course not. I leave such decisions to you.’

‘Berta will be glad to hear that,’ she told him cheerfully. ‘She was nervous about taking my old room, but I assured her that you wouldn’t object.’

‘Oh, you did, did you?’ he said ironically.

‘She won’t be there long. Alfio is pressing her to name the day.’

‘Then all problems will be solved,’ he said lightly.

‘Not quite all. Did you-have a successful trip?’

‘Entirely successful, thank you. You might say that I went on a hunting expedition.’

‘And your quarry?’

‘That was found where I’d hoped and is now safely back with its rightful owner.’

The relief was overwhelming, but she forced herself to be realistic.