Page 75 of A Scottish Teashop in Napoli

‘Bring him inside.’

Lucy shrugged her shoulders. ‘Against health and safety, I think.’

‘Nein!This is Italy. Let him come in.’

‘Armer Hund, poor dog, should not be outside.’

With twenty-four sets of pleading eyes boring into her, what was she to do? Letting out a heavy sigh, she held up her hands in surrender. ‘Okay – but please don’t tell the boss.’

Everyone applauded as Harry made his grand entrance. Wallowing in all the attention, he rolled onto his back, demanding to have his tummy stroked and his ears scratched.

Then all at once he sat bolt upright, his nose within touching distance of a plateful of cakes.

‘Harry!’ Lucy called over her shoulder as she stirred a fresh pot of tea.

His ears twitched, though he pretended not to hear, eye fixed on the pile of treats, a small pool of drool dripping onto the floor. He began to slowly lift his paw. ‘No, Harry!’ Lucy warned. Too late. Swiping the nearest cake, he dragged it to the floor and in the blink of an eye, it was snaffled.

‘Lieber Hund,’ said one of the party, patting his head and offering him a piece of her mince pie.

Lucy shook her head. So much for his weekly visits to Donatella’s Dog Training School.

Still, there was no denying that he’d provided a humorous distraction to the chaos brought about by the break-in.

‘Was ist das? What is that?’ asked one of the group, peering at the framed still of the TV production behind the reception desk.

Wiping her brow Lucy replied, ‘A British TV company filmed here for a documentary calledTea with the Buffalo. It features the mozzarella factory, which is unfortunately closed today, and our teashop, which is… undergoing refurbishment.’

The old man nodded slowly, removed his horn-rimmed glasses and beckoned the others over to take a look.

Lucy seized the opportunity to distribute the leaflets, amid enthusiastic cries of ‘Wunderbar!’ ‘Interessant!’and ‘Toll!’

With perfect timing, the tour bus appeared in the driveway, horn beeping.

Lucy stood by the entrance, Harry jumping at her heels as she bid the party farewell with enthusiastic handshakes and pecks on the cheek.

As the bus disappeared, she lowered her hand, bolted the door and leaned against it, sinking to her knees. As if sensing her inner turmoil, Harry laid his head on her thigh and let out a soft whimper. She gently scratched his head. ‘Oh, Harry, who did this I wonder, and why?’

Drawing a sharp intake of breath she reached in her apron pocket for her mobile. She couldn’t put this off any longer.

An hour later, headlights appeared in the distance, washing the reception area in ominous shadows.

Lucy was in the kitchen, washing the mugs and plates and singing along as loud as she could to ‘Santa Baby’ in an attempt to steady her nerves. She could hear the wind wailing through the broken window in the teashop. A firm hand touched her on the shoulder and she let out a high-pitched scream.

‘Dario! You scared the crivens out of me.’

‘We were leaving the stadium when you called. Elena left you a message, but…’

‘My phone.’ Lucy tutted. ‘I left it in reception.’

Dario opened the teashop door, surveying the devastation.

‘Looks like you’ve had some trouble. What happened?’

Lucy looked up at him, eyes shiny with unshed tears. ‘Sorry, I…’ She bit her lip, determined not to let him see her cry.

Dario studied her face, eyes darkening. ‘Are you okay?’

She turned away. He gently touched her arm. ‘Lucy?’