Page 89 of A Scottish Teashop in Napoli

16 Juneat 6.30 p.m.

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Chapter Twenty-One

Taking the little brass key, Elena drew a restorative breath and unlocked the pull-down lid of Giancarlo’s mahogany antique bureau.

Her fingers ran lovingly over his notebook, fountain pen and pocket compass.

Reaching inside one of the pigeonholes, she pulled out a small bundle of letters, neatly tied with red ribbon. She instantly recognised her own handwriting and the postcards depicting famous London landmarks. She caught her breath. Among them was the scribbled note she’d given him all those years ago at the airport with her name, address and phone number.

Drying her eyes, she gathered up the collection of correspondence, retied the ribbon and carried on searching.

She yanked open the stubborn top drawer and there, among fine food brochures and football programmes, was Nonna Maria’s well-worn recipe book.

Clasping it to her, she closed her eyes, grateful that Lucy had given her the courage to reconnect with Mr Conti and finish what Giancarlo had started.

She carefully opened the book at the first page.Maria Bagnoli.Areminder that Maria hadn’t always been anonna, but a young woman in love with cooking and a boy called Alfonso.

Mr Conti had asked Elena to select just six of her original recipes for the cookbook.

As she flicked through the yellowing pages, she had no idea how she was going to choose just six.

Tonight, after supper, she’d sit down with Lucy and they’d take a vote on it. Then all she had to do was type them up and email them to Mr Conti in time for the editor’s deadline the following day.

Meanwhile, across town, Lucy was standing outside the police station.

‘Lucia!’ came a breathless voice.

She turned around to find a uniformed, swashbuckling Dario running towards her, cap under his arm.

All we need now is the slo-mo effect and the romantic soundtrack playing in the background… For God’s sake, girl, pull yourself together!

Resorting to her goofy alter ego, which she invariably did when feeling flustered. she gave one of her cringey comedy salutes.

‘Signor Bianchi, thank you for agreeing to meet me so early.’

‘What may I do for you, Signorina Anderson?’ he replied with an amused wink.

Lucy felt her heart quicken. She drew a steadying breath. ‘Allora…’

‘How about some coffee? There’s a little place around the corner – if you have time.’

‘Lovely. My first class isn’t until eleven.Grazie.’

As Dario queued up, Lucy scrolled through her emails, checkingif Valentina had sent her the afternoon’s tour and teashop booking numbers yet.

All at once Dario’s mobile sprang into life, buzzing and nudging its way across the table.

‘Dario! Your…’

The phone had now worked its way to the edge, about to fall, so Lucy grabbed it. Her eyes flickered across the illuminated screen. A name flashed before her: FRANCESCA. That name again. Lucy’s heart did a nosedive. Who was she? She could hardly ask him, could she?‘Oh. by the way, Francesca rang. Anything you’d like to tell me?’ Stop acting so suspicious and needy, Lucy. It’s most unattractive.What business is it of yours anyway?

‘Allora,your morning espresso,signorina.Now, how may I help you?’

Lucy took a recuperative sip. ‘As you know, Mr Conti is coming to the documentary gala night next month, which is great. However, I admit I have a tendency to overthink things, but…’

Dario frowned, looking at her, concern in his long-lashed eyes. ‘But what,cara?’