‘Alysa!’ he cried again, but the only reply was the scream of the wind.

He began to stumble after her, but, without knowing which way she’d turned, he was lost. He doubled back, calling her name fruitlessly, becoming more alarmed by the minute.

He lost track of time. It might have been five minutes before the wind died, or it might have been hours, but at last the noise was replaced by an eerie silence. He called again and again, hoping to hear her call back, but all that returned was the echo.

He tried not to think of the worst that could have happened to her. Then a sound from nearby made him turn sharply, but he couldn’t see her. He listened and heard it again; it was coming from the ground, like an animal whimpering in pain. He began to move around cautiously until he nearly fell over a mound at the foot of a tree. It was covered in snow and it took him a moment to realise that this was Alysa.

‘Mio dio!’ He dropped to his knees, urgently brushing snow away from her. ‘What are you doing?’

She didn’t seem to hear, but lay with her eyes closed, shaking violently and uttering a long, agonised moan. He said her name again and again, shaking her gently. When she didn’t respond he pulled her to her feet.

‘Come on,’ he said, lifting her in his arms. ‘The sooner I get you into the warm, the better.’

Moving as fast as he could he made it back to the villa and ran upstairs to the bathroom. To his relief her eyes were open, and she seemed a little more aware of her surroundings.

‘Take off those wet clothes and get under a hot shower,’ he said.

He hung a towelling robe on the door and got out, hurrying back to her room. The sight of it covered in ripped-up clothes shocked him anew, but he got to work quickly, clearing everything out of sight. He’d only just finished when Alysa came in slowly.

She was wearing the towelling robe, and walked hesitantly, as if in a daze. For a moment Drago wondered if she knew who he was.

‘Warmer now?’ he asked.

She nodded and he moved cautiously forward, brushing her cheeks, which were still wet.

‘You haven’t dried your face properly,’ he said.

But he realised with a shock that she was still weeping-not in gasps and sobs, but quietly, endlessly.

He didn’t waste time asking what the matter was. He guessed that this was rooted in the grim, emotionless front she’d presented when she’d learned about Carlotta’s pregnancy, and in the explosion that had made her destroy Carlotta’s things. He didn’t understand anything, and he knew that only patience would help him now.

‘Go to bed,’ he said. ‘And keep warm. No-’ He stopped her as she turned to the bed. ‘Not in that robe. It’s damp.’

‘I haven’t got anything else.’

‘Then I’ll get you something.’

He returned after a moment with one of his own shirts.

‘It’s thick, for winter,’ he said. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’

She stared at the shirt while tears streamed, unheeded, down her cheeks. Her brain was moving slowly, realising at last that she was meant to take off the robe and put on the shirt. She did so, but then remembered that there was something else to be done. Yes: get into bed. She managed that, and was lying staring at the ceiling when he returned with a glass of brandy.

‘Drink this,’ he commanded, raising her with one arm and holding the glass to her lips with the other hand.

She obeyed without protest, which worried him more than anything. When he laid her back down, her tears were still flowing.

‘Tell me about it,’ he said. ‘I want to know everything. It’s not just the baby, is it? There’s something more.’

‘Baby,’ she whispered. ‘Baby…baby…’

‘Yes, neither of us thought of her being pregnant by him,’ he said gently.

‘Baby-my baby,’ she gasped. ‘My baby!’

At first he thought he hadn’t heard properly. Then he saw her hands outside the blanket, placed flat across her stomach as though trying to protect something there-or something that was no longer there.

‘Baby-baby!’ she screamed. ‘No, no, no!’

‘Alysa, did you have James’s baby?’

‘I was going to tell him just before Christmas,’ she whispered, looking far beyond Drago. ‘I was so happy to be carrying his child. I waited for him but he phoned to say he wasn’t coming. I thought, just be patient, tell him next time. But when we met he told me about Carlotta, and I couldn’t say anything then, could I?’

‘You might have reminded him that he had responsibilities.’

‘I didn’t want his pity,’ she said fiercely. ‘I didn’t want his duty, or to be a responsibility. If he didn’t love me any more, there was nothing else.’

‘You’re right, I’m sorry,’ Drago agreed quietly. He brushed her hair back. ‘So the bastard made you both pregnant at the same time. He’s lucky to be dead. If he was here now I think I’d kill him. What happened to your baby?’

‘I lost it. It was just after they died, when I’d found out her full name and was looking her up on the internet. I couldn’t stop-night after night-and then one night the pain started, and that was that.’

‘Oh, dear lord!’ He bowed his head. ‘And then I made you find out about this. Perhaps someone should shoot me. I deserve it.’

‘No-you didn’t know. But I was all right before today. I didn’t really mind very much-it was for the best.’

‘You don’t mean that.’

‘Don’t I?’ she asked with a small hiccup. ‘I’m not sure what I mean any more, but it was what I believed then. I thought I’d cry for ages, but then I found I couldn’t cry at all. So I put it behind me.’

But she hadn’t, he thought, discovering that he could see into her with shocking clarity. She’d coped by turning herself into a pillar of ice, freezing all emotion because that was the only way she’d been able to bear it. And all the time this had been lying in wait for her.

‘Didn’t your friends or family help you?’ he asked.

‘I never told anyone I was pregnant.’

‘But wasn’t there anybody at home to look after you? Hospitals usually ask about that before they’ll discharge you.’

‘I didn’t go to hospital. It happened at home, on a Friday night. I stayed in bed for the weekend, and on Monday I went back to work.’

‘Are you saying that you never told anyone?’

‘You’re the first,’ she said simply.

He thought of her in that appalling isolation, and inwardly he shivered. His own loneliness seemed nothing in comparison. At least he’d never awoken to find himself alone in the house. In his bleakest moments he’d been able to go along the corridor, quietly open the door of Tina’s room and stand listening to her breathing before retreating, at peace, even if only for a while.

But even that short-lived peace was denied Alysa. She had no child to provide a reason for living. Until this moment he hadn’t known he was blessed.

Alysa had turned away from him to bury her face in the pillow, overwhelmed by choking sobs.

‘Forgive me,’ he said desperately. ‘I should never have brought you here. I had no idea-I thought only of myself.’

He reached out to touch her trembling shoulders.

‘Alysa, please, talk to me.’

‘Go away,’ she choked. ‘I can’t talk-I can’t. Please go away.’

He could do nothing but leave, although it was the last thing he wanted. If he’d dared he would have put his arms around her and offered her all the comfort in his power, although he knew how inadequate it must be. But all she wanted from him was his absence, so he slipped away.

As he reached his own room his mobile phone was ringing. It was Tina.

‘Poppa, I’ve been ringing and ringing.’

‘I’m sorry, little one. It’s snowing up here and I got lost in the woods.’ It was a feeble excuse, and Tina thought so too because she cackled hilariously.

‘Poppa! You never get lost.’

‘I used to think so too,’ he said wryly. ‘But I was wrong. I’ve taken a lot of wrong turnings up here.’

Tina spoke with childish sternness. ‘You’re talking itty-bitty.’

It meant ‘nonsense’, and was their private joke.

‘Don’t be angry with me, cara. Are you enjoying yourself at Aunt Maria’s?’

‘Oh yes, we played hide and seek all over the house, and Nonna was cross, but Aunt Maria said…’

She babbled on innocently for a few minutes, and he sensed with relief that she would be happy for a few days.

‘Are you snowed in, Poppa?’

‘I’m afraid so. It may be a few days before I can get down.’

‘Have you got enough to eat?’ she asked like a little housewife.

‘Plenty, thank you. The cupboard is full.’

‘And you will be careful?’

‘Stop nagging me,’ he protested, grinning. ‘It’s time you were in bed.’

‘That’s what Nonna said, but Aunt Maria says I can stay up, and my uncle wants me to teach him how to play dice better, because I keep beating him, and…’

Her chatter was like balm. He bid her a cheerful goodnight, and hung up.

But his cheerfulness faded as he remembered Alysa and the state he’d reduced her to. After a moment he did as he’d often done with Tina-went to stand at her door, listening. From within came the sounds of violent distress, unabated. He leaned back against the wall, wondering if he dared go inside. She’d banished him, yet she needed him. Torn in two, he couldn’t move.

Then the sobbing ceased suddenly, to be replaced by a violent coughing. That did it. He gave up struggling with himself and hurried inside.

The light was off but the curtains were drawn back, and in the moonlight he could see her outline heaving.

‘Alysa, sit up,’ he said, sitting on the bed and taking hold of her. ‘It’ll be much easier that way.’

She sat up, holding him for support, then leaned forward, seeming to be torn apart by the coughs that wracked her.