‘Stella, please don’t be angry.’
‘Really, Gino, I’m not.’ It was Violetta and the gang of German soldiers who deserved her wrath. Not the man she couldn’t help but love despite his family.
‘Good, because I came here with an invitation from Fernanda. To come to dinner this evening.’
Stella felt her jaw drop. ‘You’re joking! Really? How did you put her up to that?’
‘I didn’t. Something’s triggered a change in her. Maybe it’s all the talk about Pietro’s burial or Leo creating the memorial plaque. She’s taken down the portrait of Violetta.’
‘I never thought I’d see the day. That must have been hard.’
‘Yes. I’m proud of Mamma. She wants to make amends, Stella. Will you come tonight?’
She looked into his troubled eyes. ‘I will, Gino. Tell her I will. I just need to find someone to stay in with Domenico. I don’t want him to spend this evening on his own and have another accident.’
Gino’s eyes widened. ‘Oh, no, what’s happened? Is he okay?’
‘Just scorched his hand in the steam from a kettle.’
‘A kettle? Don’t tell me he’s swapped his coffee habit for a cup of tea.’
Stella laughed. ‘No, that’s less likely than Fernanda taking down her sister’s portrait.’
‘I’ll see you tonight then.’ Gino kissed her quickly.
‘I’ll come upstairs with you and see how Amy’s doing. I’ve finished down here.’
* * *
Amy unboxed another sandwich toaster, hoping Stella wouldn’t be downstairs too long. She could manage to exchange the odd word in Italian but her extremely limited vocabulary certainly didn’t stretch to ‘crimped edges’ or ‘toasting times’.
Stella and Gino’s voices drifted up from the basement. She couldn’t understand what they were saying but she could tell from Stella’s tone of voice that they weren’t having a row, thank goodness. Gino and Leo had treated Amy abominably but she didn’t want her presence to cause a rift between Stella and the man she was obviously in love with.
Footsteps clumped up the stairs. Stella’s head appeared first, Gino’s just behind.
‘All okay, Amy?Buongiorno, Signora Togliatti, come sta?’ Stella smoothly took over, opening the toaster’s lid and chatting away until the old lady left.
Amy busied herself with a display of cutlery, conscious of Gino’s eyes upon her. She felt, rather than saw, him come nearer.
‘Amy, I’m so sorry.’
Her hands stopped sifting the knives and forks, but she didn’t turn around.
‘I owe you an apology,’ he said.
Now she looked at him. His eyes were sincere but still she didn’t respond. She wasn’t going to make things easy for him.
‘It seems,’ he continued, ‘that the necklace Stella mended looks very like the one my mother lost. But that is no excuse. My family and I accused you of theft. We were terribly wrong.’
His phone rang.
‘Take it,’ Amy said. She retrieved a rogue teaspoon from amidst the forks.
Gino pulled out his mobile, frowning at the screen. ‘Mamma?’ His frown deepened as he listened. His mouth opened and closed in a vain attempt to interrupt Fernanda’s monologue. At last, he managed to speak. ‘Sì, certo!Ciao, Mamma!’
He stowed his phone. ‘I cannot believe this: Mamma has found her sister’s necklace.’
‘So there really are two of them,’ Stella said.
