‘Dario!’ squealed Stefano.
Lucy heaved a sigh of relief as she saw him. He was unusually dishevelled, his hair was a bit unkempt, but he was here. He was safe.
‘Buonasera!’he said, waving to everyone and lifting Stefano onto his shoulders.
‘Dario!’ exclaimed Franco, teetering over with two bottles of wine. ‘Vino?’
‘Ciao, Franco! Or is it George Clooney now? Novinotonight. I can’t stay long. I am still on duty.’
Carefully putting Stefano down, he drew up a chair next to Lucy, brushing a kiss across her cheek.
‘Buonasera, principessa.’
‘Buonasera,Signor.You look like you’ve been busy.’
‘And you look beautiful.’
Lucy’s heart missed its step.
Dario poured himself a glass of water and rubbed the back of his neck.
‘You okay?’ she asked, concern in her eyes.
He glanced at her with a weak smile and squeezed her hand.
‘Is it something to do with that dodgy man in the black car who was outside the cinema this evening?’
‘Dodgy man? What is dodgy?’
Lucy stifled a giggle at his pronunciation. ‘It’s…’
‘I know. Like Italiandoge? How you say… Duke?’
‘No, Dario, the suspicious looking man in the black car was definitely not a duke,’ she spluttered. ‘But he was definitely dodgy.’
‘Mamma mia! I think you have had too much prosecco.’
‘Dodgy means dishonest, dangerous.’
‘Pericoloso.Why you didn’t say?’
‘Is it something to do with him? Thepericolosoguy?’
‘Cara,I wish I could tell you, but the case, it is very sensitive and we must tread carefully,’ he said, winking at her.
His radio suddenly crackled into life. He sighed. ‘Allora,duty calls.Arrivederci.’
Chapter Twenty-Three
June
As the doors to the arrivals hall parted, Mr Conti’s face broke into a wide grin at the sight of the wee Italian boy coming towards him, perched on a luggage trolley, proudly sporting a Celtic hoodie – and a kilt.
Elena and Alfonso weaved their way through the crowd as Mr Conti rushed over to greet them.
‘Welcome to Glasgow.’
‘Grazie, grazie,’ said Alfonso, warmly embracing his host, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
