‘Sbrigati per favore! Hurry up, please!’ someone shouted from the back of the bus.
Stella swiped Amy’s case and plonked it down by the kerb. ‘You’re going to stay with me and my Uncle Domenico. Please, no arguing. It’s late. You can’t be wandering around looking for somewhere to stay. If you want, you can leave straight after breakfast. What do you think your mum and dad would say?’
‘I suppose you’re right.’ Amy stepped off the bus. Someone gave a sarcastic cheer. The doors closed with a hiss.
‘Everything will look better in the morning.’
‘No… No, it won’t.’ Amy chewed her lip. ‘But… umm, thanks so much for giving me somewhere to stay.’
‘No problem. We’ll go home right now and have a nice cup of tea.’
‘Okay.’ Amy sniffed. She followed Stella in silence.
* * *
Stella had expected her uncle’s house to be in darkness but despite the late hour, it looked as though Domenico hadn’t gone to bed. He might not be too impressed that she’d turned up with a visitor in tow, but she knew he wouldn’t have the heart to turn Amy away.
Stella opened the unlocked door and waved a hand to indicate where Amy might park her case.
‘I’m home,’ she called. No answer came. She pushed open the door to the little sitting room. The lamp was on but Domenico’s chair was unoccupied. Only the squashed cushions and abandoned newspaper signalled that her uncle had recently been sitting there.
‘Sit down, make yourself comfortable. I’ll make that tea.’
‘I don’t think…’ Amy hovered.
‘Sit,’ Stella said.
She stepped back into the hall. The sound of running water came from the kitchen.
‘Domenico, are you there?’
She turned the handle.
‘You’re back early.’ Her uncle was standing by the kitchen sink, a guilty look on his face.
‘I said to leave your washing up for me to do.’
‘All done and put away.’ He moved one hand behind his back, a gesture that drew attention to whatever he was trying to hide.
Stella crossed the room. ‘Show me your hand.’ It was the voice she’d used when Lauren was small.
Domenico’s eyes shifted sideways. He held out his knobbly hand, the skin painfully pink.
‘You’ve burnt yourself! I wouldn’t have left you thatfranduraif I thought you were going to heat it up.’
‘Pah! I would not do that. It tastes better at room temperature, it brings all the flavours out.’
‘Then how?’ Her uncle could make coffee in his sleep and she’d ironed all his shirts.
‘That new kettle of yours gives out a lot of steam. I didn’t realise it would burn like that, silly old fool that I am.’
Stella was incredulous. ‘You were making tea? I’ve never seen you drink one. Talking of which—’ She lifted the offending object off its stand and filled it to the halfway mark. Then she examined Domenico’s hand. ‘You should hold it under the tap for a while longer.’
‘I’m sorry, Stella.’
‘Nothing to be sorry for.’
‘There is.’ He pressed his thin lips together. ‘I was trying to surprise you, but I’ve wrecked that hat.’
