‘It’s time we went home,’ she whispered. ‘The ball’s over.’

‘But you’ve left me a glass slipper, right?’

She shook her head. ‘More like an army trainer. Nurse Bossy-Boots is back in charge.’

His smile was as sad as her own as they walked together back through the small, winding streets.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

‘DULL, dreary, prosaic. That’s what I am, and I shouldn’t have let myself forget it.’

It was typical of the hand life had dealt Polly that after claiming her freedom by dramatically shearing off her hair she should find that it backfired on her with a feverish cold.

‘Can you take Matti?’ she croaked to Hope next day. ‘I don’t want to get too close to him.’

The cot was promptly whisked out of her room, and she herself was banished back to bed, where she was nursed royally. Everyone looked in to wish her well-including Ruggiero, who stayed well back in response to her urgently flapping hands.

For three days she could do little but suffer. Her meals were brought upstairs, and in between eating she slept. At last she felt better, and began to make forays out of bed.

On one of these days she sat by the window, watching as Ruggiero, below, played with Matti, showing every sign of pride in his mental alertness, while his son, as always, strutted his stuff to an admiring audience.

They’re both fine without me, she thought.

At that moment Hope pointed up to the window, and they all looked up, waving and smiling to her. For a strange moment it looked as if they were waving goodbye.

When she was sure she presented no threat to anyone, she went downstairs again.

‘You were away too long,’ Ruggiero told her.

‘Or just long enough. You and Matti get on better when I’m not hovering over you.’

‘I’ve taught him three new words. And Toni swears he’s learning to call me Poppa, although it sounds more like patata.’ He grinned. ‘But I don’t mind being called a potato by my son. He’ll probably call me worse when he’s older.’

‘Brilliant. So now you and he have established a connection, you’re not going to be taking any risks, are you?’

‘Risks?’

‘I can assume that you’re enough of a father to abandon this mad idea of the rodeo?’

‘It’s tomorrow.’

‘And you’re riding?’ she demanded, aghast.

‘There’s no reason why I shouldn’t.’

‘There’s every reason. You’re not fit yet. You’ll have another accident and maybe this time you’ll be killed. That child has lost his mother-he doesn’t deserve to lose his father too. Especially when he’s only just met him.’

‘It’s no more than I’ve done before. I wasn’t killed in the past, and what happened the day we met was a freak accident, and you know it. I have a duty to our workers to prove that the bike is good. They depend on us for a living.’

‘So get another rider. You say there’ll be others, so I expect any one of them would be glad of the chance.’

His mouth set in stubborn lines.

‘It has to be me,’ he said. ‘Because I was the one riding when things went wrong.’

‘And if things go wrong again-?’

Hope, approaching, overheard this and joined in the conversation with horror.

‘I knew you were having this party, but I didn’t know you were actually riding,’ she said, appalled. ‘You’re not nearly well enough. Get one of the others to do it.’

‘Don’t give me orders, Mamma,’ he said quietly. ‘That goes for both of you.’

He walked away before either of them could reply.

Hope groaned and cursed herself.

‘I’m sorry, cara. I shouldn’t have spoken. You would have done much better.’

‘But I wasn’t doing any better,’ Polly sighed. ‘He’s completely pig-headed. I don’t understand that. I thought we were getting through to him-that Matti was getting through. Then suddenly everything goes into reverse. He plays with his son, he teaches him words, and he smiles in the right places, but he won’t give up his pleasure to protect him. Oooh, I could-’

She made a strangling motion with her hands.

‘Do it for both of us,’ Hope snapped.

Secretly Polly knew that it was disappointment as much as anger that was driving her. The softened mood between herself and Ruggiero had seemed full of promise for his future with his son. Suddenly his image had darkened into that of a man concerned only with himself and his own wishes, without care for his child.

None of Ruggiero’s siblings happened to be in Naples at that moment, so there was only Toni, Hope and Polly who might have attended the rodeo. Hope flatly refused to do so.

‘No, you’ll just be shopping nearby,’ Ruggiero said. ‘As always.’

‘Not this time,’ his mother declared. ‘I’m going to stay here and look after your son. If you break your neck, you break your neck. That’s your business.’

But when he’d left the house she turned to Polly and said fearfully, ‘You’ll be there, won’t you? If anything happens you’ll look after him.’

‘Of course. But he’s probably right. Nothing will happen.’

She tried to sound reassuring, but she couldn’t voice her real fear-that what had happened before would happen again and he would see something that wasn’t there.

If it wasn’t there.

‘Leave him alone,’ she whispered. ‘You can’t have him. Do you hear me?’

There was no answer. Either Sapphire had admitted defeat, or she was too sure of victory to bother arguing.

A privileged crowd had been allowed into the stands that surrounded the track. Potential buyers, a few journalists, everyone from the factory, plus friends and family from the biking fraternity.

In their company Ruggiero relaxed. He spoke the same language as these people-the language of speed and danger, the language of ‘to hell with everything!’ He’d been away from them too long, among people who didn’t understand that risking your life was the most life-enhancing experience in the world. You had to toss it onto the flames to really enjoy the moment when you seized it back. What did they know?

There were ten riders, including Enrico, who had won more races than anyone else that season, and was eyeing the new bike hungrily.

‘It’s a bit soon for you to be riding again,’ he said coaxingly. ‘Take a longer rest.’

‘I have to prove that bike. Not me, but the bike.’

It wasn’t true. It was himself he had to prove again, but he couldn’t admit that to anyone else.

The leather suit he’d worn before was now clean and perfect. When he put it on he felt he become himself again: his real self, the one he wanted to be, who’d almost been lost.

There was applause as five riders walked out for the first race. He knew they were all watching him, willing him to streak ahead on the new bike and leave the rest standing. Either that or get killed. One or the other. That was just how he liked it.

He stood for a moment, looking around through his visor, knowing the others were awaiting his move. From here he could just make out the place where she’d been before. It had been different then, with speed creating half the illusion, but now he needed no speed to conjure up the woman who stood before him.

Suddenly he became quite still, watching, understanding everything for the first time.

Then he began to move.

Toni drove Polly down to the track, left her there, and returned home on his wife’s strict instructions. Polly was able to slip in and go to the same place in the stands where she had stood before.

The five bikes were already on the track, each with its own mechanic, waiting for the first race. Around her the crowd was abuzz with expectation. She couldn’t understand the words, but she could guess their meaning.

She clenched her hands, waiting for things to start. But before anything could happen she heard the shrill of her cellphone. Pulling it out quickly, she found herself talking to Kyra Davis, a nurse she’d become friendly with two years earlier. Kyra was older, well on the road to promotion, and she had been there when Freda had died.

‘I just called to say I’ve got my own ward at St Luke’s,’ she said, ‘and I have two vacancies. I’d love you to fill one of them. Where are you now?’

‘I’m in Italy.’

‘But you’ll come home soon, won’t you? Pop over and we’ll have a chat.’

‘Can I call you back about that?’ Her eyes were fixed on the track.

‘Sure, just remember there’s a job for you any time.’

She hung up.

There was a cheer. The bikers were coming out now. They all looked alike in their black leather and visors, but Polly would have known Ruggiero’s tall, lean body anywhere.

Don’t do it! Don’t do it!

She saw him walk towards the bikes with the others, saw him stop and look around. His gaze seemed fixed on the place where she stood. He seemed transfixed, rooted to the spot, as though something was there that was revealed only to him.

What can you see?

Then a murmur went through the crowd as Ruggiero pulled off his helmet and turned to the man beside him, saying something. The murmur turned to a groan of disappointment as Ruggiero made a gesture indicating his bike. The other man let out a yell of delight and punched the air, but Ruggiero never saw it. He was already walking away.

He went on walking across the track until he came to the place where Polly stood, her eyes glistening, her heart overflowing.

‘Enrico will ride for me,’ he said. ‘That’s it. Basta!’

‘What made you change your mind?’ she asked, hardly able to get the words out. ‘Did you see her?’

‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘I saw you. And Matti was in your arms.’

‘It’s what you tried to tell me, isn’t it?’ he asked.

They were sitting in a small restaurant. After speaking to her Ruggiero had gone back to change out of his leather gear, giving her time to call Hope and tell her all was well.