‘Maybe your sister had something similar but it’s not this. Do you want to look more closely?’
‘Let me see the back. Mine has a curve etched onto the reverse side.’
Amy went cold.
Fernanda reached out a bony hand, her old engagement ring glinting under the hall light. She turned the coin, her fingers pressing against Amy’s chest. ‘Itismine! You stole it!’
‘No! I swear I didn’t.’ She tried to prise Fernanda’s fingers open but the old woman held the coin too tightly. The only way Amy could loosen Fernanda’s grip was to give her an almighty shove. But no matter how unjust the accusations were, Amy wasn’t going to have Fernanda’s broken bones on her conscience. She jerked backwards to try to get away. The cheap chain snapped. Fernanda’s fist balled around her prize.
‘It’s not what you think.’ Amy looked at Leo in despair. He wouldn’t meet her eyes, looking down at the floor and shaking his head.
‘You’d better go and get your things, the last bus won’t have left yet,’ Fernanda said. ‘Leo will wait while you pack and walk you to the bus stop.’
Amy barged her way out of the hall into her bedroom, her eyes screwed up, desperately fighting her tears. She opened the wardrobe doors, hurling her clothes into her case any old how. She swiped everything from the bathroom shelf into her washbag, grabbed her book from the bedside table and yanked out her phone charger. She checked around quickly. Apart from the rumpled quilt there was now no sign she’d ever been there.
She dumped her case in the hall. Fernanda was waiting by the front door.
‘I haven’t paid for my stay,’ Amy said. She undid the catch of her bag.
Fernanda squared her shoulders. She peered down her nose. ‘I do not want your money. Just go.’
Amy ignored her. She opened her purse and threw a handful of notes onto the hall table. Leo marched out of the door, and she followed him down the road, dragging her case behind her.
Leo walked with her as far as the bus stop. He leant against the window of the salumeria.
‘Why don’t you go?’ Amy said. ‘Why are you waiting here?’
‘I just want to understand. Why did you do it, Amy?’
‘I didn’t. I’ve told you, that necklace is mine. They must be identical. I’m the one who’s been robbed.’
‘I can’t believe you won’t even own up to it. You know something, Amy? I really liked you. I thought… Well, it doesn’t matter now.’
‘Thought what?’ Amy said. She didn’t know if it would make her feel better or worse if he admitted to some feelings for her.
‘I thought I knew you. I thought you were nice, a good person… special. I thought there was something between us. Deep down, I knew it was probably too good to last. But now I won’t even be able to treasure the memories.’ He laughed and shook his head. ‘You did a good job, Amy. I even found myself searching the local ads for a second-hand potter’s wheel. Someone in Apricale was selling one. I almost went to get it.’
‘What for? You really thought I might stay in a boring little village like this? You’ve got to be kidding! Why would I want to do that?’ She dug her nails into her palms, willing him to go away.
He turned around, shoulders slumped, as he set off back towards Fernanda’s. The tears she’d fought to hold back began to fall. The bus was due in less than half an hour. If only it would come straight away. Tonight, she’d find a cheap hotel in Sanremo; tomorrow she’d search for a flight back to England.
The sound of the band thrashing out ‘Rock Around the Clock’ drifted over from the piazza. The villagers would be dancing and singing long into the night.
40
‘Coffee?’ Gino said.
‘Please.’ Stella didn’t feel like one but it was a safer bet than drinking another glass of wine and saying something she’d come to regret. Like, ‘Did you know your family was responsible for the death of my grandfather as well as my papà?’
Gino busied himself at the stove. Stella walked over to the kitchen window. The air was warm, still. There wasn’t a wisp of a breeze. Music drifted over from the piazza, several streets away. She was tempted to suggest they abandon Leo’s house and join in with the dancing and raucous singing. Immersing themselves in the revelry would be an easy way to avoid conversation.
He set down the coffee.
Stella found it hard to meet his eye. The effort of making small talk with the man with whom she’d wanted to share everything was bringing her close to tears. She faked a yawn.
‘Sorry. I really am tired.’
‘Looking after the shop and your uncle coming home, it’s been too much for you. It was selfish of me to think you’d have much energy left this evening.’
