Page 101 of A Scottish Teashop in Napoli

‘My sister told me you were coming over. I know you’re only here for a wee while, and maybe you have meetings to go to, but…’

Elena smiled. ‘Oh no, I leave that to my father-in-law. He enjoys being back in charge.’

‘Well, if you don’t have any plans tomorrow…’

Elena felt a sharp tug at her sleeve. ‘Mamma…’

‘Hello, young man,’ said Jamie, with a huge smile, holding out his hand.

Stefano hastily retreated behind his mum, eyes lowered. Elena crouched down beside him and ruffled his hair.

‘This is Jamie. Remember? Lucy’s brother. He loves football, like you. He supports this team,’ she said, pointing to the green logo on the boy’s hoodie.

‘Celtic,’ whispered Stefano, daring to lift his gaze towards the friendly copper-haired giant towering over him.

‘Good to see you still support the best football team in the world,’ said Jamie, high-fiving him. ‘How long are you here for?’ he continued, turning towards Elena.

‘Allora,four days, including the travel.’

‘I’m on summer break, so if you need a tour guide…?’

‘Stefano and I… we don’t have any plans…’ said Elena with a smile. ‘We are just happy to be here. My husband, he loved Scotland.’

‘Great.’ Crouching down to Stefano’s level, Jamie said, ‘How would you like to visit Celtic Park Stadium and see where the players hang out, maybe even kick a ball about?’

Stefano drew a short, sharp breath, his face awash with wonder and anticipation.

Elena gasped. ‘Really? Is it allowed?’

‘Yep. An ex-army pal of mine organises tours of the stadium and would be happy to arrange it.’

‘Celtic! Celtic!’ cried Stefano, jumping up and down. Elena turned to Jamie with immense joy and gratitude in her huge, chocolate-brown eyes. ‘I think you have your answer.Grazie mille.’

Lucy peered through the oven door at the Dundee cake.

‘Perfect. Thank you, Granny,’ she whispered, lifting her eyes heavenward. Slipping on the oven mitts, she opened the oven door and carefully wrapped her hands around the tin.

All at once a sharp tap on the window sent her flying backwards, launching the cake into orbit.

‘Nooo!’

She flailed her arms, watching in slow motion as the tin somersaulted through the air, crash-landing onto the floor, scattering warm sponge, cherries, sultanas and almonds everywhere.

The door rattled. Panic clogged her throat. ‘Who is it?’ she whispered.

‘Lucy?Che cosa?What’s going on?’

She looked up and found herself face to face with Dario.

‘Elena asked me to drop by and keep an eye on you,’ he said innocently. ‘What happened?’

She bit her lip, determined not to cry, despite the searing pain in her arm and the excruciating embarrassment of being found on her hands and knees.

Dario’s brow furrowed as he noticed the red raw wound.

Lucy felt an odd exhilarating shiver run through her as he helped her to her feet, removed her oven gloves and swiftly guided her to the sink, gently placing her arm under the cold water.

‘Un momento.’He returned moments later with a small first-aid kit and applied a cold compress. ‘Take this for later,’ he said, handing her a tube of aloe vera gel. ‘Now, some tea.’