Page 51 of A Scottish Teashop in Napoli

‘Buonasera,Dario.’ Matteo held up his hands in surrender. ‘I know, I know I was driving too fast and I should be wearing a helmet, but…’

Lucy averted her face, blushing under the visor. Dario! What were the chances? How she wished she could shrivel up – yet again.

Dario leaned forward and tilted his head, the hint of a smile playing across his lips, despite himself. ‘Buonasera,Lucy.’

Lucy tugged the hem of her skirt, in a desperate attempt to salvage her last morsel of dignity. ‘Hi.’

‘I’ll let you off this time, Matteo. But be careful. You could be fined one hundred euros for not wearing a helmet.Capito?’

‘Capito,’Matteo repeated sheepishly, and the two men shook hands.

Dario lightly tapped the top of Lucy’s helmet. ‘Have a good evening.’

Reputation in tatters, she was hauled off into the night once more.

What must Dario have thought? Arms wrapped around a boyyoung enough to be her son, skirt exposing a good deal more than her cellulite, could only spell one thing: C-O-U-G-A-R.

Elena sat cross-legged against the pillow, sipping the chamomile tea Lucy had just brought her, watching the numbers on the digital clock go round. 01:00 CLICK, 01:01 CLICK…

It wasn’t the drone of the cake mixer or the odd clatter of the steel baking trays from the kitchen which were keeping her awake.

That afternoon Lucy had returned from the buffalo farm fizzing with excitement at the prospect of involving the factory and the teashop in a British documentary about Italian and British food culture. At first, Elena had been swept along with her enthusiasm and excitement.

But left alone with her thoughts that evening, her mind was racing, a sickly feeling unfurling inside her. By allowing cameras in, would they be inviting danger into their lives once more?

She told herself to stop worrying as she was sure these things took months to organise and probably wouldn’t happen anyway.

She had to admit though, she was a tiny bit intrigued. What was the harm in allowing the film company to have Valentina’s email address?

Two days later, Lucy and Elena were huddled over their laptops, trying to come up with innovative lesson plans, while enjoying an end-of-the-day glass of wine, when an unexpected email dropped into Elena’s inbox.

‘Dio mio!’ she exclaimed.

Lucy jumped up, sloshing red wine onto the tablecloth. ‘Cazzo! Sorry!’ she said, fetching a damp dishcloth. As she tried to mop up the stain, she noticed Elena was staring at her screen, mouth open.

‘Are you okay?’

Elena motioned for her to sit down. ‘Look!’ she gasped, pointing to an email forwarded to her earlier by Valentina. ‘It’s from the film production company.’

Their eyes were glued to the screen, until there was a knock at the door.

Elena looked up at the kitchen clock. ‘Who can that be?’

‘Buonasera,’said Valentina, her smiley face poking round the door.

‘This is a nice surprise,’ said Elena. ‘We’ve just been reading your email.’

‘That’s why I’m here, she said, uncorking a bottle of prosecco and taking three glasses from the dresser.Salute!

‘Salute!’

‘Cheers!’

‘Allora,I know this is all a bit sudden, and we wouldn’t agree without your consent, but…’

‘But what?’

‘As you know, Lucy passed on my details to a British production company. And…’ she said, looking at each of them in turn, eyes glittering.