Page 73 of A Scottish Teashop in Napoli

‘Hi, Elena,’ he said in his gravelly Scottish burr. ‘Bon Natalie.Is that how you say it? I’ve heard a—’

A little piggy snort bursts through the airwaves, much to Stefano’s amazement and delight. ‘Mamma!’

Elena felt her face flame. ‘Scusi,Jamie.’ She touched her hair nervously. ‘You must think me very impolite.’

‘It’s okay. Lucy will tell you. Languages were never my strong subject at school.’

Elena’s eyes roved over the screen. ‘I have never seen so much snow. Like a Christmas movie.’

‘I’ve been coming here all my life and still the view takes my breath away.’

‘Scotland looks so different to Italy.’

‘Maybe you and Stefano will come and see it for yourselves someday.’

‘This, we would like very much,’ she said, a scarlet flush creeping into her cheeks.

A silence then fell between them.

‘Jamie, by the way,’ Lucy chipped in, ‘please thank the students for sending the new buffalo playlists. So thoughtful. They were a wee bit freaked out by theRed Hot Chilli Pipers, but the King’s College Choir went down a treat. Oh, this is Dario,’ she said, aiming the phone at him.

‘Hey, Dario. I understand you’re with the police force?’

‘Sì.Piacere, Jamie. I am very sorry, but I just arrest your sister for corruption and treason.’

Stefano jumped into view, giggling as he pointed at his hoodie. ‘Celtic! Celtic!’

‘You cannae trust the Scots, Dario. Lock her up and throw away the key.’

‘Mamma, can I go to Scotland and play in the snow?’

‘Maybe one day, Stefano. He has never seen snow, Jamie. Only in the movies.’

‘Well, we’ll definitely have to do something about that, won’t we?’

Stefano squealed as a snowball hit the back of Jamie’s head, sending icy shrapnel onto the screen.

Jamie whirled around. ‘What the…? Gotta go, Stefano. See you soon, wee man.Ciao,everyone!’ Looking into the middle distance he yelled, ‘Hey, you! Think that’s funny? Just you wait…’

With that, the screen went blank.

Dario turned to Stefano with a steely death stare. ‘Allora,young man…’

Half squealing, half laughing, Stefano hared off to his room and slammed the door, Dario hot on his heels.

The wheels of Lucy’s shopping trolley rattled across the tiled factory floor. Harry trotted happily alongside, tongue hanging out, nostrils flaring. He could detect biscuits and mince pies from ten miles away.

Humming a Christmas tune to break the eerie silence, Lucy checked her watch, a small self-satisfied grin flitting across her lips.

Two hours to prepare twenty-four festive afternoon teas for a bus party of German tourists. ‘Nae bother’, as her granny used to say.

She took out the teashop key from her bag. But hang on… the door was swinging back and forth. She knew she’d locked it before she’d left on Christmas Eve. A cold draught touched her face. She shuddered. Harry growled.

‘Ciao, c’ènessuno?Hello, is anyone there?’ The tremble in her voice betrayed her fear and foreboding. She gingerly pushed the door open. ‘C’ènessuno?’

A shadow crept across her face. She gasped. The tables and chairs were upturned, the window was shattered, there was glass and broken crockery everywhere.

Grabbing Harry, she flung open the back door and released him into the yard.