‘That looks like the arches by the Uffizi, just before you get to the Ponte Vecchio,’ Angelo said. ‘That’s definitely my great-grandfather and my mother. Cammie really looked like her at that age.’ He took a snap of the photographs with his phone. ‘I’m going to send this to them both now, because they’ll enjoy this. Mamma might remember something about this—she looks as if she was about ten at the time.’
‘From the way he’s looking at her, clearly your great-grandfather adored her,’ Mariana said. ‘That’s such a lovely photo.’
‘I found some reels of cine film while I was packing the boxes,’ he said. ‘They’re from the nineteen-fifties so they’re nothing to do with Nonno’s visit to Norfolk, but I’m getting them transferred to a digital format because I think they’re from when my grandparents were first married and from when my mother was small, and I think she and Nonno would enjoy seeing them.’
‘Like my sister and me asking my parents to play the videos they took when we were little,’ Mariana said. ‘It’s lovely to have those memories.’ She’d thought to have similar films of her own child by now. Until everything had gone wrong. ‘I have lots of clips of Olly on my phone. He pinches Sophie’s phone, records himself telling a terrible joke and sends it to me—and half the time he’s laughing so much that he can hardly tell me the punchline.’
Again, there was fleeting sadness in Angelo’s eyes. Regret for the children he could have had? But he’d told her he didn’t want children and that was why his marriage had ended. Or maybe she’d misread his expression and he was bored.
Thankfully the pizza arrived and saved her from another faux pas.
A few minutes later, Angelo’s phone pinged.
‘That’s a text from my mother,’ he said, glancing at the screen. ‘I’ll check what she wants later.’
‘It might be your grandfather,’ she said.
‘No. She would’ve called.’
Unless she couldn’t.
She could see from his expression that he’d just thought of the same thing.
‘Check it,’ she said gently. ‘You’re not being rude.’
He nodded in acknowledgement and opened the message. ‘It’s not Nonno.’
‘Good.’ But she could still see the fear in his eyes. She had to work faster. Make this happen for Angelo, before it was too late.
‘She loved the photo. Apparently it was taken after one of my mother’s Tuesday singing lessons. Her teacher lived on the other side of the Ponte Vecchio,’ he said. ‘And she’s thrilled to have it.’
‘That’s good. Fingers crossed we’ll find the photos we want tomorrow,’ Mariana said. ‘Get our breakthrough.’ And it was the excitement of the chase that she was looking forward to, she told herself. Being close to Angelo had nothing to do with it.
* * *
‘I’ll drive you home,’ Angelo said when they’d finished the pizza.
‘On condition we do another half an hour on the boxes first,’ Mariana said.
He couldn’t help smiling. ‘Everyone in my office says I’m a workaholic. But you’re just as bad, aren’t you?’
‘I love this kind of work,’ she said.
‘OK. As long as you don’t feel I’m bullying you into working stupid hours.’
‘You’re not bullying me. I know the difference,’ she said quietly.
Her ex. Of course. He winced. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up difficult memories for you.’
‘It’s fine.’ She paused. ‘Are you still OK to meet my tutor tomorrow morning?’
‘Sure.’
‘And then we’ll have half an hour in the National afterwards,’ she said, ‘which is just round the corner, and I’ll work late tomorrow to make up the time.’
‘Strictly speaking, you’re my consultant rather than my employee, and you’re not on an hourly rate. You set your own working hours,’ he reminded her.
‘I know, but...’ She spread her hands. ‘I want to get this bit done.’
‘Is it worth me hiring a temp to help us?’ he asked.