‘How can you possibly help?’ he asked heavily.

‘You mean I’m the last person who ever could. Because I caused all the trouble, didn’t I?’

Hearing his own accusation put so bluntly seemed to do something to Rinaldo. She saw his eyes full of shock as he realised that he was still holding her. He dropped his hands from her arms.

There was an ache inside her that had something to do with his misery. She wanted to assuage it and ease the hurt for them both.

He sat down on a bale of hay, leaning back against a post of the barn, his hands hanging loose as though he’d lost the will to fight.

‘No, it’s not your fault,’ he said tiredly. ‘I know I said that at first, but in truth I know better. It wasn’t you who created the situation.’

He took a long breath. His face was livid.

‘It was my father,’ he said at last. ‘A man I trusted, and who let me live in a fool’s paradise. He never warned me, that’s what-’ He made a confused gesture.

‘That’s what hurts, isn’t it?’ she whispered, sitting beside him.

His eyes were full of resignation, almost despair.

‘Yes,’ he said simply. ‘We used to sit up late at night, discussing problems. I thought we were a team, and all the time he was keeping me at a distance, not trusting me with the truth.’

‘Oh, no,’ she said at once. ‘It wasn’t like that.’

‘How can you possibly know?’

‘Because in an odd way I feel as if I do know him. Everyone talks about how lovely he was, laughing, singing, always looking on the bright side. I think that probably made him a wonderful person and a loveable father, but maybe not a very practical farmer.’

He nodded. ‘That’s true.’

‘But you are practical. I expect you hauled him back from the brink a few times.’

‘That’s true as well. He was always going after madcap schemes and having to be rescued. You’d think he’d learn.’

Alex shook her head.

‘People like that never do learn,’ she said gently. ‘They’re always sure they’re going to get it right next time. I think he relied on you completely, and was just a little bit in awe of you.’

‘Nonsense, how could my father-?’ But Rinaldo checked himself, and a strange, distant look came over his face, as though he were hearing distant echoes.

‘Perhaps,’ he said after a while.

‘You’ve said that the money helped this place.’

‘A lot. Poppa ploughed it into Belluna-he was a good enough farmer for that. The investment has enabled us to prosper as never before.’

‘Then don’t you see how he must have cherished his secret, the feeling that he’d done something to make things right, instead of leaving it all to you? He probably looked forward to surprising you with it one day, rather like a child springing a surprise on an adult and saying, “There, aren’t I clever? What do you think of that?”’

Rinaldo stared at her, as if thunderstruck.

‘Yes,’ he murmured. ‘That’s exactly how he was. I can hear how he would have said it.’

‘It isn’t his fault that it all went wrong,’ she pleaded. ‘He couldn’t have known what would happen. Maybe it hurt his pride to have to depend on you so much. He wanted you to admire him.’

‘You make it sound so convincing,’ he said in a low voice. ‘If only I could remember-’

‘Remember what?’

‘Something-anything-just a moment that would tell me what was in his mind. I keep having this feeling that it’s there, just on the edge. Like when you see something out of the corner of your eye, but when you turn it vanishes. I dream about it, but it isn’t there when I awaken. Maybe it doesn’t really exist at all.’

‘If it does, it will come back to you,’ she said. ‘Not now, because your head’s all scrambled, but when you feel easier inside.’

His mouth quirked wryly.

‘I think I’ve forgotten what it’s like to feel easy inside.’

She looked at his hands, lying loosely clasped. He was a big man and his hands were large in proportion. She could still feel their power where he’d gripped her. Yet now they looked helpless.

‘You carry all the burdens for everyone, don’t you?’ she said.

He didn’t answer, and she wondered if she’d taken a risk too far. But his eyes held only a searching look, as though he were trying to fathom her.

From outside came Gino’s voice.

‘Hey! Anybody there?’

He was coming toward the barn. Rinaldo put his finger to his lips, shaking his head slightly, and hurried out before Gino could enter.

She heard his voice carrying back.

‘I was just coming. We have a lot to do today.’

Their voices faded. After a while she slipped out of the barn to find everywhere quiet.

She went indoors and put through a call to David, but there was only his answerphone. They had spoken several times since she came to Belluna. She had apologised for being so long, and he’d encouraged her to stay as long as necessary.

She always finished these calls feeling a little guilty that he was being so nice and understanding. She felt she was taking advantage of his patience to indulge herself.

One thing she was sure of. There was no way she was leaving before the Feast of St Romauld, which took place on June 19th.

‘There’s a parade of floats through the streets,’ Gino told her, ‘and we all wander around eating and drinking, and then we dance. I shall dance only with you, amor mio. And you must dance only with me.’

‘She can’t do that,’ Rinaldo said at once. ‘Montelli and the others will want some of her attention, and you must do what’s necessary to keep them dangling, eh, Alex?’ He spoke pleasantly, as though this were an accepted joke between them.

‘Of course,’ she said, playing up to him.

Gino assumed an air of theatrical comedy.

‘But why should you need the others when you have us?’ he demanded, clasping her waist and leaning over her dramatically.

‘Let’s say I like some variety,’ she chuckled, clinging to him to avoid falling. ‘Now, get off me, you great clown.’

When the day arrived, every worker on the farm went to the festival. Families piled into cars, converging on the road to the city so that they ended up in what Gino told her was the Belluna procession.

Alex spent more time choosing what to wear for the festival than she had meant to. Her first choice had been a white dress. But somehow, at the last minute, it seemed wrong.

After trying on one dress after another she came to one of brilliant scarlet that seemed just right. It had a steep V-neck and looked splendid against her light tan.

That was something new. In London she strove to look elegant, businesslike. But not splendid. Suddenly only splendid would do.

One of the hands, who had no family, drove Teresa, Celia and Franca in Rinaldo’s old vehicle, while the brothers and Alex went in her shiny hired car.

As they were leaving the house Alex handed her keys to Rinaldo. ‘I’m sure you’d rather have these.’

‘Be careful Alex,’ he said. ‘Someone will mistake you for a traditional female, asking a man to drive your car.’

‘Nobody who knows me would ever make that mistake,’ she said firmly. ‘But I can’t get used to the steering wheel being on the left when I’m used to the right.’

‘Ah, yes, the English drive on the wrong side of the road,’ he murmured.

She ignored this flagrant provocation, and said, ‘It’s probably safer if you drive.’

‘I don’t believe I heard you say that.’

‘Oh, get in and drive,’ she said in exasperation.

He grinned and did so. Gino swiftly urged Alex into the back seat, and so the three of them made their way into the city.

The two men were also dressed ‘for best’ in snowy white shirts with ruffled fronts. Gino was by nature a stylish dresser, but, except for the funerals Alex had not seen Rinaldo in anything but shabby working clothes.

Though alike in features the brothers were different in the impression they made, Gino the more conventionally attractive, Rinaldo the more virile and uncompromising.

It was as well, she thought, that she was ‘spoken for’, or these two might have seriously disturbed her equilibrium.

As it was, she was looking forward to spending time at the festival in the company of her two handsome escorts.

It was late afternoon and things were already happening. Alex found it was nothing like the pallid festivities she’d seen at home.

Figures pranced around the streets. They were all outrageously clad, some from history, some from mythology. Saints mingled with demons, sorcerers and clowns.

Several times Alex was seized around the waist and whirled into an impromptu dance, from which Gino had to rescue her.

Rinaldo left them almost as soon as they arrived, but after a while they came across him, deep on conversation with a grave-looking man.

‘Bank manager,’ Gino muttered.

‘In the middle of a festival?’ Alex demanded.

‘You’d think he could take five minutes off, wouldn’t you?’

‘Perhaps he’s arranging a mortgage on the rest of the property so that he can buy me out quickly.’

‘What?’ Gino was aghast.

‘Well, it would solve a lot of problems,’ she said, trying to sound cheerful.

‘No it wouldn’t. You’d go away. I don’t want you to go. You don’t want to go, do you?’

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t.

The Loggia of the Boar was filled with stalls selling all manner of foods. Gino bought cakes and wine and they wandered around, hand in hand, like children.

As the natural light faded the coloured lights became brighter. Tables were set out in the streets and a band began to play.

They strolled about until they found Rinaldo, clearly having finished with the bank manager, sitting alone at a table in the Piazza della Signoria, brooding over a solitary glass of wine.