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them!”
    â€œSpring.”
    â€œExcuse me?”
    â€œSpring, not jump.”
    â€œAh yes. Forgive me… my English… I am Gabriella. And you?”
    I told her my name, there was a brief beat of hesitation before she opened her mouth and said simply, “Ah!”
    â€œThey’ve spoken of me?”
    â€œOf course.” Her eyes, which had been briefly averted, returned now, bright with renewed affability.
    â€œDo you know where Adam and Marina are?” I asked. “Is there any way to contact them?”
    She gazed brightly up at me. “For the moment I don’t think so.”
    â€œIt’s rather urgent. I don’t have much time.”
    Somewhere higher up the hill a bell counted eleven in tinny chimes. We stood by the blue table in the fragrant day while she considered her response. Awhite sports car gleamed beside the shrine at the junction, where she had parked it. The morning basked in dry light.
    She said, “I think you must wait for them.”
    This woman was no peasant, but the statement had a peasant’s obstinacy. It assumed that waiting was the usual condition here. Things might once have happened; one day something might happen again; in the meantime, waiting was the thing.
    But the prospect of kicking my heels in this uneventful place held no appeal. I said, “Perhaps the neighbours know where they are? I heard them last night. Down here.” Crossing to the wall beyond the table, I looked over onto the salmon-coloured pantiles of a low-pitched roof. Another cottage was stacked on the side of the hill below Marina’s, neater, in better repair.
    â€œAh,” Gabriella smiled, “so Capitano Mezzanotte is back! But I doubt he can help us.” I was about to suggest that it might at least be worth a try when I heard her chuckling softly at my back. “Of course that is not his true name,” she said. “It is our joke, yes? He makes use of the place only occasionally. Adamcalled him by that name because he comes by night and always leaves early.”
    â€œThey,” I corrected.
    â€œYes,” she smiled.
    â€œCaptain Midnight. I see.”
    â€œHe is a very private man.”
    â€œPublic enough to keep me awake.”
    She nodded, her lips pursed, but smiling still. It occurred to me that she and Adam must be on intimate terms to share such a joke. Were they perhaps lovers? If so, this woman might be just as resolute to protect him from the past as he had been to sever all ties with it. She wouldn’t want me “jumping” any surprises on him.
    I said, “You really don’t know when they’ll be back?”
    Frustration must have shown in my face, but with a wry tilt of her head she evaded my question. “Things don’t always work out as we expect. You must not be dismayed.” Abruptly she brought her ringed fingers together at her lips. “I have some small business to perform this morning. It will take me perhaps one hour or so. After then I will give you lunch at the Villa, yes? If you are agreeable, I will pick you up at, say, twelve thirty.” The smile was warm.
    Lacking options, I decided to be “agreeable”, thanked her and asked whether it would be too far for me to walk.
    She opened her hands and brought them together lightly at her chest as though catching a moth. “No, not far. But the road is steep,” she said. “It will be a hot walk.”
    â€œI’m used to heat. I was in Africa a week ago.”
    The smile broadened, the narrow shoulders wriggled a little beneath the silk. “I am forgetting. You are famous for your
ardimento
. Very well, go round the hill and take the road to the left, past the
convento
. You will see. Cross a bridge and in perhaps three kilometres there comes a gate with birds. Mythological birds.
Grifoni
?”
    â€œGriffins, yes.”
    â€œThe drive will bring you. The door is open. Come through. I will expect