But there were some for whom this wasn’t possible. Late that afternoon the door of the shop was flung open and Barone Franco came flying in as fast as his bulk would allow. He was almost in tears.

‘Disaster!’ he cried. ‘A terrible tragedy. Where is my friend Pietro?’

‘Right here,’ Pietro soothed him. ‘Whatever has happened, Franco?’

‘My palace is ruined, destroyed.’

Pietro calmed him down and managed to draw out the details. It transpired that the house on the island had suffered grievously from the high tide. While not actually ruined, it was in no state for the glamorous ball that was planned, and for which so many expensive tickets had been sold.

‘Franco, I warned you that you didn’t protect that place properly,’ Pietro said gently. ‘When you did it up you skimped on the safety features.’

‘There was no time. It would have taken several more months. Serafina set her heart on this ball. Now it’s a mess. There’s only a few days to go, and there’s no time to put it right. Serafina is devastated. I must find somewhere else, but everywhere suitable is already taken for other things. Pietro, my friend-’

‘No,’ Pietro said at once. ‘Forget it, Franco.’

‘But who else can I ask? Pietro, I beg you-you have that great building standing empty. You wouldn’t have to do anything. My own people will come in and get it ready. You won’t be troubled.’

Looking at Pietro’s face, Ruth could tell that this was far from the truth. The thought of strangers invading his peaceful home was horrible to him. But Franco couldn’t see this. He continued pestering while Pietro listened, a withered expression on his face and his hand clenching and unclenching out of sight. Only Ruth noticed this and it gave her a strange feeling, as though the two of them were apart from the rest of the world.

‘The trouble with you,’ Franco burbled, ‘is that it’s been too long since you enjoyed yourself. You ought to get out more, give a party.’

‘I’m sorry, but I can’t agree-’

‘Of course you can. It’s not good to shut yourself away. You don’t really mean to refuse me.’

Ruth regarded the insensitive oaf with something close to hate. She was consumed by a fierce protectiveness towards Pietro. His wealth, his grand status were suddenly nothing, and all she could see was how alone he was. She wanted to scream at Franco, For pity’s sake shut up! Can’t you see what you’re doing to him?

But she stayed silent, knowing that, in his defiant solitude, Pietro would resent any attempt to rescue him.

Franco burbled on, oblivious. ‘You’ve hidden away too long. Now it’s time to snap out of it. Lisetta wouldn’t have wanted you to grieve for ever, and this will be the perfect way to come back to the world. Besides, think of having to send back all the tickets.’

‘You’re quite right,’ Pietro said in a tight voice. ‘By all means let us have the ball in the Palazzo Bagnelli. How shrewd of you to appeal to the businessman in me.’

Franco beamed, taking this at its face value. But that wasn’t the reason, Ruth knew. Pietro had given in because he was on the rack, and it was the only way to make Franco shut up.

‘I knew you’d see sense,’ he chortled. ‘Why don’t we go back there now and-?’

‘Tomorrow would be better,’ Pietro said quietly.

‘But I’m here now. Let’s get going.’

Pietro’s hand clenched on a piece of decorative wood and his voice was very controlled, alarmingly controlled, Franco would have thought if he were more perceptive.

‘We will discuss this tomorrow,’ he repeated.

Still the bumbling fool wouldn’t understand. ‘But there’s so much to settle. Come on, we’ll have a bottle of wine and-’

He stopped. Franco had raised his head and looked him in the eyes. Ruth thought she would have died if he’d turned that look on her. There was more in it than resentment. There was sheer murderous hate for this creature who stomped all over his most sacred memories with hobnailed boots.

At last Franco understood. He faltered into silence, grew pale, and even stepped back as though afraid that Pietro might strike him. But that wouldn’t happen, Ruth knew. Pietro had no need of his fists when his eyes could convey such a terrifying message.

‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ Pietro said quietly, and walked out of the shop, across St Mark’s and into the labyrinth of calles.

He went on walking for an hour, caring nothing for where he went, seeing nothing, feeling nothing except the inner emptiness that was his defence against a feeling that was a thousand times worse. When he became aware of his surroundings he found he was approaching his home.

He moved mechanically, going to his room, switching on the computer, reading it with dead eyes, checking his emails.

And there was one from Gino.

Ruth arrived later that evening, having resisted the temptation to hurry after Pietro. He wouldn’t thank her for dogging his footsteps, she knew.

Her resolutions were all made. The earthquake that had happened inside her was something he must never be allowed to suspect, and until she was more sure of herself she would keep her distance.

There was no sign of him when she entered, but she could hear his steps coming from behind the closed door of his room. This way, then that, then back again, like a prisoner pacing his cell. Once she thought she heard a fist being slammed down. Then there was silence again while she stood, wondering what to do.

Without warning the door opened.

‘Don’t stand there,’ he said curtly. ‘I’ve been waiting for you to come in.’

‘I didn’t want to disturb you.’

‘Thanks, but a pot of strong English tea would do me more good.’

She made some and took a large mug of tea in to him.

‘Where’s yours?’ he wanted to know. ‘I hate drinking alone.’

When she returned he said, ‘I sent Minna to bed, so I’m afraid it’s make-do-and-mend in the kitchen.’

‘I had something on the way home.’

‘Are you being tactful?’ he demanded suspiciously.

‘I thought it might make a nice contrast to Franco.’

He groaned and spooned sugar into his mug. He’d taken a fancy to the tea she made, and would sometimes drink it in preference to coffee.

Ruth was feeling her way carefully. The resolve to keep her distance had died with the first sight of his haggard face. The protectiveness she’d felt in the shop came surging back.

‘This is Franco’s fault,’ she said angrily. ‘Why did you say he could bring his party here? You could have simply thrown him out.’

‘Could I?’ Pietro said ironically. ‘Do you think that would have stopped him? It wouldn’t. He’d have ground on and on until I’d have had to kill him to make him shut up.’

‘Killing him might have been a good idea,’ she said thoughtfully.

Pietro shook his head. ‘Bad for business.’

‘I suppose.’

‘I was becoming afraid of what I might do. So I said yes.’

‘But that didn’t really shut him up.’ She sighed. ‘He just found something else to badger you about-until you gave him that look.’

‘You saw it, then?’

‘Oh, yes.’

‘Did it give much away?’ he asked, apparently indifferent.

‘Plenty.’

‘He’ll never know what danger he was in at that moment.’

‘Oh, I think he knows,’ she said lightly. ‘He got a grandstand view of your eyes.’

Pietro gave a grunt that might have been satisfaction.

‘Anyway, it’s too late now,’ he said. ‘I’ve agreed and I won’t go back on my word, but I’d give anything not to have this happen.’

He saw her looking at him and grimaced.

‘I know, I know. I sound like a mean, miserable old miser, turning his back on the world.’

‘You’re not old,’ she said, venturing to tease him a little.

He gave a faint smile. ‘Thanks.’

‘And why shouldn’t you turn your back on the world if that’s what you want to do?’

‘It’s commonly held to be a bad thing.’

‘But if the world no longer has anything that you want, why should you pretend about it? What’s the point of being a count if you can’t get your own way?’

‘I wish my father could hear you. He was an aristocrat of the old-fashioned type. If you had a title then certain things were expected of you. It was your duty to present a particular face to the world and behave in a lordly manner, no matter how you felt inside. Plus, of course, you always got your own way.’

‘But you don’t agree?’

‘His beliefs were right for his time, but not for now.’

‘Then you don’t have to go on with this. There must be someone else’s place Franco can take over. Don’t just give in to him.’

‘You’re very fierce. I wouldn’t like to meet you in a calle on a dark night, in this mood. Perhaps I should warn Franco.’

‘I’m only saying you should keep your home the way you want it.’

‘The way I want it,’ he sighed.

She could have kicked herself. Of course this desolation wasn’t the home he wanted. Without the woman he loved it was simply all he had left.

The woman he loved. She’d always known it with her head, but now she realised what it really meant. It meant that he’d chosen to die inside rather than live without her. Somewhere inside Ruth there was an ache.

‘I shouldn’t have said that,’ she said awkwardly. ‘It’s none of my business-about your wife. I’m sorry.’

He became suddenly still, as though she’d struck him. Slowly he turned and gave her a keen look.

‘What do you know about my wife?’ he asked in a strange voice.

When Ruth didn’t answer, Pietro said, ‘What is it, Ruth? What did you mean about my wife?’

‘Nothing. I had no right to mention her. I didn’t want to make you angry.’

‘I’m not angry, but I would like you to answer me. Just how much do you know about her?’

He sounded as if he resented her knowing anything, Ruth thought, her heart sinking. Had his love really been so powerfully possessive that even the mention of her name was forbidden to others?