Tall, Dark and Italian. Carol Marinelli

certainly never been jealous of her relationship with her mother. Envious, perhaps, because her own mother wasn’t there to share her hopes and fears; her development. But Aunt Kate had been a wonderful substitute. And what she’d lacked in experience, she’d more than made up for in love.

      ‘Then why ring me?’ demanded Andrea accusingly. ‘Worrying me unnecessarily, making me wonder if something terrible had happened to her.’

      ‘It’s not like that.’

      ‘Then what is it like? You ask me if I’ve heard from her as if she’s gone missing. Don’t you have her mobile phone number? Why don’t you ring her on that?’

      Tess hesitated. ‘Her phone’s not working,’ she admitted. ‘And—well, I just wondered if Ashley had gone to England after all. As you’ll have guessed, I’m looking after the gallery while she’s away.’ She paused, seeking inspiration, and then added unwillingly, ‘I—I had a customer of hers asking about—a painting.’ Liar! ‘I—I just thought it was worth seeing if she was staying with you.’

      Andrea snorted disbelievingly, and Tess felt a growing sense of injustice at the impossible position Ashley had put her in. Not only had she left her to deal with her boyfriend’s irate father, but she must have known Tess might ring her mother when she believed that that was where Ashley was.

      All the same, it wasn’t in Tess’s nature to upset anyone unnecessarily, and, taking a deep breath, she said, ‘I’m sure she’ll be in touch with me again in a few days.’ She’ll have to, Tess added to herself. Ashley knew she was due back at school in ten days as well. ‘But—um—if you hear from her in the meantime, could you ask her to ring me? The—er—the customer I was telling you about, he is pretty eager to speak to Ashley himself.’

      Andrea was silent for so long that Tess began to hope that she’d pacified the woman. But just as she was about to excuse herself on the pretext that someone had come into the gallery Ashley’s mother spoke again.

      ‘And you have absolutely no idea where Ashley is?’ she asked again urgently, a worrying tremor in her voice. ‘If you do know anything, Teresa, I demand that you tell me. Do you think I should come out there? If Ashley’s missing, the police ought to be informed.’

      ‘Ashley’s not missing.’ Tess hurried to reassure her, cursing her sister anew for getting her into this mess. ‘Honestly, Andrea, there’s no need for you to concern yourself. Ashley’s taken a break, that’s all. She’s probably turned off her phone so she isn’t bothered with nuisance calls.’

      ‘I hope you’re not suggesting that if I ring my daughter she’d regard it as a nuisance call!’ exclaimed Andrea at once, but at least the disturbing tremor had left her voice.

      ‘Of course not,’ protested Tess, determining to find out exactly what Ashley had been telling her mother about their relationship. Andrea hadn’t always treated her kindly, but she hadn’t regarded Tess as an enemy before.

      ‘Oh, well…’ There was resignation in the woman’s voice now. ‘I suppose I have to take your word for it. But, remember, I expect you to keep me informed if there are any developments. And if you hear from Ashley, you can tell her that I expect her to ring me at once.’

      ‘Okay.’

      Somehow, Tess found the right words to end the conversation, and with a feeling of immense relief she put the handset down. But her sense of indignation didn’t end when she severed the connection. She was beginning to feel distinctly put upon and she wished she’d never agreed to come here in the first place.

      An image of Castelli flashed before her eyes, but she refused to acknowledge it. She had no intention of allowing her interview with the Italian to influence her mood. Besides which, he was just someone else who regarded her as unworthy of his respect.

      She scowled. This was not the way Ashley had sold this trip to her. Her sister had asked her to babysit the gallery, true, but she’d also sweetened the request with promises of long sunny days and evenings spent exploring the bars and ristorantes of the popular resort. Not that Tess cared much for bars, but the idea of eating in real Italian restaurants had been appealing. And, like anyone else who held down a job, she’d looked forward to spending some time on the beach.

      Now it was all spoilt. After spending the first couple of evenings tidying Ashley’s apartment and making sense of her bookkeeping, she was confronted by this situation. It was typical of Ashley, she thought flatly. Typical of her sister to trample over everyone’s feelings if it made her happy. And there was no doubt that Ashley had known how Tess would have reacted if she’d told her what she’d intended. That was why she’d made sure she’d been long gone before Tess had arrived.

      It was so frustrating; so disappointing. She should have guessed there was more to it than Ashley had told her. She should have rung Andrea before she’d left England. It was her own fault for not expressing any interest in her stepmother’s health. But for now she was helpless. Until Ashley chose to contact her, there was nothing she could do.

      She had planned on treating herself to an evening meal at the local pizzeria before returning to the apartment, but she changed her mind. After spending an uneasy day jumping every time someone came into the gallery, she was in no mood for company. She would buy herself some salad greens, she thought, toss them in a lemon vinaigrette, and grate some parmesan for flavour.

      She was about to lock up when a man appeared in the doorway. He had his back to the light and for a ridiculous moment she thought Castelli had come back. Her heart skipped a beat and hot colour surged into her throat. But then the man moved and she realised her mistake.

      It was Silvio Palmieri, she saw at once, the young man who ran the sports shop next door. Though perhaps calling the establishment he managed a sports shop was understating the obvious, Tess mused. With its windows full of endorsements from famous sports personalities and the exclusive designer gear it sold, it was definitely not just a sports shop.

      Still, she acknowledged she had been foolish to mistake the younger man for Castelli. Silvio was dark, it was true, but that was where the resemblance ended. He didn’t move with the instinctive grace of a predator or regard her with tawny-eyed suspicion. Silvio was just a rather pleasant man who had taken it upon himself to look out for her.

      ‘Ciao,’ he said. Then he noticed her expression. ‘Mi scusi, I startle you, no?’

      ‘Oh—I was miles away,’ murmured Tess, gathering her composure. ‘You surprised me, that’s all’

      Silvio frowned. ‘You have not had bad news?’ he asked, with surprising perception. ‘Ashley’s mama—she has not had a relapse, spero?’

      ‘Not as far as I know,’ said Tess drily, not at all sure how Andrea must be feeling at this moment. ‘Um—have you had a good day?’

      Silvio shrugged. ‘What do you say? So-so? Si, it has been a so-so day. How about you?’

      Tess felt an almost irresistible urge to laugh, but she doubted Silvio would appreciate her hysterics. She couldn’t involve him in her problems. Ashley wouldn’t like it and Castelli definitely wouldn’t approve.

      ‘It’s been—interesting,’ she said, moving to drop the blinds on the windows. ‘But I’m not sorry it’s over.’ And that was the truth.

      ‘I saw Raphael di Castelli come into the gallery earlier,’ Silvio ventured, his brows raised in inquiry, and Tess wondered if she was being absurdly suspicious in thinking that that was the real reason he had come. ‘He is quite a well-known person in San Michele. In the season, many people work at the villa. Picking the grapes, capisce?’

      Tess stared at him. ‘You know him?’ she asked, absorbing the fact that his name was Raphael di Castelli. She moistened her lips. ‘Does he have a large vineyard, then?’

      ‘I think so.’ Silvio was regarding her curiously now. ‘And, no, I do not know him. Well, not personally, you understand?’