Page 56 of A Scottish Teashop in Napoli

Franco wrapped his arms around his daughter and grandson, holding them tight and kissing the top of their heads, before climbing into his truck, which spluttered then roared off in the direction of Villa Limoncello.

Alfonso turned to his staff, arms spread wide. ‘None of this would have been possible without you all. You carried on with your work quietly and without complaint, despite glaring lights beaming down on you and cameras following your every move. I thank each and every one of you from the bottom of my heart. Now, go home to your families, get some rest, and I’ll see you all in the morning.’

He proudly shook everyone’s hands, patted their shoulders and hugged and kissed, as they filed past chorusing ‘Buona notte!’ and ‘A domani!’

After the last car had left, it was suddenly eerily quiet. The milk-bottle-top moon was sliding down the star-filled sky. Everyone stood in silence, taking in the glittering sight before them.

Glancing sideways at Elena, Alfonso pulled a blue spotted handkerchief from his breast pocket and dabbed away a huge tear as it trickled down her cheek. ‘You have done my son proud today – and every day,’ he whispered, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead.

‘Nonno!’ cried Stefano, tugging at his sleeve.

Crouching down to his grandson’s level, Alfonso took his hand and guided it skywards. ‘Look, Stefano! See those three bright stars in a line? That’s Orion’s Belt, and from there we can see…’

‘The Bear?’

‘Correct!’

Stefano pointed to Polaris, winking down on him. ‘Nonno, I can see Daddy’s special star now!’

Watching them from the shadows, Lucy sensed the tenderness of this moment and smiled through her tear-filled eyes. It felt astral, other-worldly.

Then Stefano let out a huge yawn, shattering the silence. Soon everyone was yawning their heads off.

‘It’s time you were in bed, young man,’ said Alfonso, wiping his grandson’s chocolate-speckled chin with a tissue.

Lucy put a hand on Elena’s arm. ‘It’s late. I’ll tidy up. You take Stefano home.’

Elena shook her head. ‘No way. Together we’ll get it done in no time.’

‘Lucy’s right,’ came Matteo’s voice from the darkness, head tilted,eyes still feasting on the night sky. ‘It’s been a long day. Take him home, and I’ll help Lucy clear up.’

Elena bit her lip. ‘Are you sure?’

Lucy smiled. ‘Sure we’re sure. Now go, please. And don’t worry. I’ll get a taxi home.’

Lucy and Matteo joined Sinatra in a rousing rendition of ‘New York, New York’, while she rinsed and dried the glasses and he swept the floor, occasionally using the long-handled brush as a microphone.

Lucy flopped down on the bench, breathless and giddy. ‘Would you like to go to New York, Matteo?’

‘Would I…?’ Matteo swung himself up on the counter. ‘Of course. One day I will visit the Blue Note Jazz Club in Greenwich Village. Maybe even live in Manhattan for a while.’

Lucy removed her rubber gloves and sighed. ‘Even from the little I know about you, I have no doubt you will.’ She poured them each a glass of red. ‘Here’s to New York.’

Matteo leaned forward and clinked glasses. ‘New York.’

‘Where did you learn to play an instrument?’

Matteo gave a nervous laugh. ‘When I was sleeping on the street, I was looking for food in a rubbish bin and I find… found a book.Teach Yourself Music. I nearly threw it back. Then I remembered there was a piano at the railway station. I hear people playing there. So I begin… began to go there every morning. Early. I practised before it become… became too busy.’ He shook his head and groaned.‘Mamma mia,I was terrible at first, but I kept going. It give… gave me something to get up for in the morning.’

‘So, when you eventually improved, did you let people passing through the station hear you play?’

‘Yeah. I started to write my own music. When people start giving me cups of coffee, food and money without being asked, it make me proud. This was a new feeling for me.’

Lucy thought of all those privileged, unwilling pupils at her school, whose parents had forced them to have piano lessons, believing they could be the next Lang Lang. And here was this boy…

‘I believe in positive thinking.’ Matteo shrugged his shoulders. ‘Everyone is fighting their own battle. Bad things happen, but how we deal with these things, that make us who we are.’

Lucy wasn’t sure if her next question would be overstepping the mark. ‘And your parents?’ There was a weighty silence. ‘You can tell me to mind my own business.’