““ C’è qualche problema ?” comes a soft voice from behind us, and we all jump, startled. He has a way of sneaking up on you like a cat , I think savagely, annoyed at being taken so off guard. Everyone turns but me, because of course I know who it is straightaway. It’s as if I have a special radar setting for him: I would recognize his voice anywhere. “Luca!” Andrea says, sounding relieved, and rattles off a long stream of Italian. I don’t want to swivel to look at Luca directly. So I step back a couple of paces, closer to the wall that borders the paddocks, widening my range, and see him leaning against one of the gateposts, looking very amused. His eyes are gleaming, his hands shoved in his pockets, as he speaks equally rapid-fire Italian at Andrea. I just glance at him swiftly, and then away again. He’s been ignoring me all evening, and I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of staring adoringly at him now.””
