Page 105 of A Scottish Teashop in Napoli

La vita è la cosa più bella che ci sia.

Life is the most beautiful thing there is.

Elena shielded her eyes from the sun with her book, soaking up the heather-covered hills that swept up to the cloudless, cobalt blue sky. No wonder Giancarlo had loved this place. She felt close to him here and had a feeling that she would return many times in years to come.

Looking out across the shimmering loch, she smiled at the hazy vision of Stefano, fishing rod in hand, helping Jamie bait the hook then cast the line.

A light breeze caressed her face. Of course she wished it wasGiancarlo sitting in the boat alongside their son, but today the unbearable grief that always overwhelmed her at times like these was beginning to loosen its grip, allowing her a peek of how it was to live in the moment again, instead of always yearning for the past.

She pulled down her sunglasses and searched for the page where she’d left off.

Though she didn’t understand every word, reading Jamie’s well-worn copy ofSunset Song,accompanied by the distant sounds of bleating sheep and birdsong, she found herself time-travelling back one hundred years to the pre-modern world of a Scottish rural community.

Then all at once she was hauled back to the present by a wave of excited commotion echoing across the water.

‘Hold on tight, Stefano! You’ve got one!’

Sunset Songflew into the air as Elena leapt to her feet.

‘Put the net underneath, Stefano. Careful. That’s it. Steady.’

‘Mamma, we catchuna trota!’yelled Stefano, the weight of the net causing him to wobble.

‘Attenzione!’ called Elena, jumping up and down, waving her arms about.

The triumphant fishermen rowed to shore, winning smiles plastered across their faces.

‘Congratulazioni!’said Elena, high-fiving them.

‘Tonight we’ll have fresh trout for dinner,’ announced Jamie, dragging the boat onto the shingle.

‘But Alfonso, he booked a table at the Hilton,’ said Elena.

Jamie shrugged. ‘That’s very kind. But what do you think he’d prefer? The Hilton’s All Day Menu, or fresh trout caught by his grandson, followed by hand-picked strawberries from the foothills of Loch Lomond, served at Jamie’s restaurant? No reservationrequired. The views from there are spectacular – oh, and the host is quite friendly.’

Elena grinned. ‘I know what he’d say. I’ll call him. But before I do, I’d like to capture this moment please.’

‘Okay,’ said Jamie. ‘Stefano, can you hold Tommy Trota’s tail while I hold his head, and Elena, you crouch down in front of Stefano and take the photo.’

Elena raised her arm. ‘Okay, guys. Ready?’

‘Ready!’

‘After three.Uno,due,tre!’

An ear-piercing squeal echoed round the loch as the fish tail slapped Elena across the cheek. ‘Mamma mia!Per favore,Stefano!’

Jamie and Stefano snorted with laughter.

‘Come on, guys. This is a great photo opportunity. Pull yourselves together. Let’s try again.Uno,due,tre…’

It was no good. Hard as they tried, Stefano and Jamie couldn’t control their laughter or the slippery trout, and all three ended up in a helpless heap on the ground.

Lucy was mopping the teashop floor in time to an old Dean Martin song. She turned up the volume. It transported her back to her childhood, when she would balance on her granny’s slippers while she waltzed her around the kitchen.

It was always Italian songs that Granny Oona would play. Her fiancé’s signet ring, which Lucy now wore, was a reminder that she hadn’t always been a white-haired old lady.

She’d confided in Lucy that despite the war it had been a happy time, going to dances, meeting foreign servicemen and living in the moment, for there was no guarantee that tomorrow would come.

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