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But it was no dream She was indeed here, in a Tuscan villa, one apoplectic at the news

If she listened, she could still hear the stor downstairs It seemed to have da shrank back, clutching Benji He felt her distress and discoain

Footsteps, hard and angry-sounding, echoed across the marble hall Doors slammed several tih the floorboards Finally, in a last flurry of raised voices, there was a heavier door slah the house, it see went quiet A moment later there caine, gunning fiercely and then roaring away

Silence reined Total silence It was al as the noise

Knowing, instinctively, that the only thing she could do was keep her head tucked well down beneath the parapet, Magda kept to her roo before another need ry

She rifled through her hand baggage, extracting an apple and sory when they were all gone For the next forty-five da tried to mollify him, but in vain Even juice could not sate hi for it She would have to go and find some

With her heart in her erly opened the door of her bedroo Cautiously she went down the grandto find Giuseppe, she went through what ed corridor A door stood ajar at the end, and she entered reluctantly If it were just herself she’d go to bed hungry, but she could not starve poor Benji Surely someone would take pity on him?

As she entered, she realised she was in a vast, old-fashioned kitchen A cavernous fireplace at the far end was filled with a huge cooking range Do wooden table To the side, beneath an old-fashioned , an elderly woe copper saucepan at a stone sink

As Magda hovered hesitantly in the doorway the woman turned to stare at her

‘Si?’ she de-boned, and her expression was anything but welcoda

Magda sed ‘Mi dispiace,’ she ventured haltingly, hoping she was pronouncing it right froht ‘Ma…este possible…?’

‘I speak English,’ the woman snapped at her ‘What is it you want?’

Alda turned and ran Then, as Benji huddled in closer to her, sensing her unease, she sed again ‘I am so sorry—’ her voice was almost a whisper ‘—but would it be possible, please…a little food…and some milk…for my baby…?’

Fierce black eyes fro brows bored into her She felt her throat tighten with tension Surely the woman would not refuse sustenance for a little child, however angry she was at having been disturbed—as she so clearly was—by such an unwelcoht here to cause uproar

The eyes were scanning her, taking in her shabby clothes, her thin, drab figure, the baby clutching her, and then going back to Magda’s strained, nervous face Suddenly the wo soe, and bustled forward

‘Coda with surprisingly strong are, and plu table ‘You are hungry, yes? Foolish girl—why did you not ring from your room?’

‘I…I…didn’t want to be a nuisance…’ Magda stammered

The wo noise in her throat ‘A baby must not wait for his food,’ she announced ‘Nor the mother’

She bustled off to the far end of the kitchen, this tie There were various pots on it, and out of one she proceeded to scoop up, with the aid of a huge wooden ienerous serving of spaghetti On top of this she ladled spoonfuls of toda, placed it on the table, and deftly tied a huge tea-towel around Benji’s neck to protect his clothes from the sauce

Benji’s little da had scarcely time to check the pasta was not too hot before he had seized her wrist and was guiding the forkful towards him