Sandro called me in. ‘Look at granddad. He’s really good at the piano.’

I loved seeing them together. Sandro didn’t seem to notice Dad made odd comments about knowing the people on TV, called Lupo a cat and was just as likely to drink out of the milk jug as a cup. Given that he’d shaken with fear when there’d been an explosion on the TV news, seeing him relaxed, embracing music and enjoying Sandro’s company brought so many emotions to the fore that I didn’t know whether to sing along with him or burst into tears.

At half-past four, I heard the growl of Massimo’s BMW pull up outside. My stomach knotted as I glanced at Dad, my ears straining for the sound of him coming up the drive, the jangle of keys, the thud of the briefcase on the top step. But instead of his footsteps after the car door slammed, Francesca’s voice rang out, followed by a cheer from Massimo. I caught a ‘Bravo!’ and ‘That’s my girl’. Maggie was booming into the mix, ‘Just zoomed in at the last moment and left them all standing, she did. Bloody brilliant.’

Hearing her outside gave me courage. I could tell him while she was there. She’d help me out. She was brilliant at picking up a thread of discord and snipping it off before it started – smoothing down Anna squaring up to Beryl, Sam having a spat with Francesca, Massimo goading Nico – Maggie was always there with a joke or a diversion to defuse the tension.

I opened the door and waved at them all.

Massimo threw his arms wide in a big theatrical gesture. ‘My gorgeous wife! Have you missed me?’

Nerves made me blurt out: ‘I’ve been too busy to miss you.’

Of course, it was a preamble to ‘Dad’s come to visit and I’ve got my hands full’, but I didn’t get that far before Massimo dropped his hands to his side and said, ‘Did you hear that, Maggie? That’s charming, isn’t it? She’s been too busy to miss me!’

Maggie glanced at me and said, ‘You know what they say, when the cat’s away, the mice will play. You’ve no idea what we get up to in your absence.’

Something in her voice made me do a double-take. I normally envied the way her conversations with Massimo were teasing and full of banter. But she sounded – I couldn’t put my finger on it – sullen? Sulky? As though she was trying to pick an argument?’

My heart skipped a little.

Massimo raised an eyebrow but his tone was light, ‘Look forward to hearing all about it. I’ll just get changed out of my suit, then I’m all ears.’

Massimo hated secrets, unless he was the one keeping them. Something uncertain flashed across his face. He wasn’t a man who liked being on the back foot.

I jumped in. ‘I’m only having you on, darling. I have missed you, it’s just that I’ve had an unexpected guest today.’ The added line, ‘And he’s still here’ nearly made it out of my mouth but got trapped in the web of knowing I should be able to say whatever came to mind but not wanting the proof I couldn’t.

Since Sandro was born, Massimo hadn’t encouraged me to invite anyone over. Initially he said it was too much for me with a baby, having to clean everywhere and get food ready. But I understood, over time, that only his family were welcome unless he was in the mode of presenting himself as a super-generous ‘more the merrier’ host as he had for Sam’s party. Everything about other people in our house irritated him. The sound of them using the loo. The way they dripped water on the floor when they washed their hands. How they dipped teaspoons into the sugar, leaving little wet trails. In short, anyone who didn’t know – and adhere to – the thousands of invisible rules that infiltrated our lives. For Sandro and me, they were as reflexive as the ability to breathe. So much so, that every time someone transgressed by allowing a rogue elbow on the table or not hermetically sealing their mouths while eating, Sandro would catch my eye and we’d quietly hold our breath, knowing we’d bear the brunt of their mistakes once they’d left.

Maggie, of course, was oblivious to the million scenarios that could unfold simply by shaking the notions of ‘unexpected guest’, ‘secret’ and ‘surprise’ into one combustible mix. As always, I felt a little rush of self-loathing that I’d allowed myself to play along. What kind of grown woman sneaked broken crockery out of the house to dispose of in a litter bin instead of simply saying, ‘I dropped a plate.’ Now I couldn’t even recall Massimo making a fuss about me breaking anything. I just felt like he might.

Maybe it was all in my head. Perhaps the antidepressants I’d taken after Sandro was born had permanently skewed my grip on reality. Maybe this time I really did need them, to shake me out of my warped thinking, seeing problems where there weren’t any.

I forced myself to believe it would all turn out okay, taking Massimo’s briefcase and coat from him and smiling, or at least, managing to turn up the corners of my mouth.

Massimo threw his arm round my shoulders. Today he certainly seemed in an expansive mood: ‘Let’s get everyone in for a cup of tea. Francesca can tell us about her fantastic win.’ He turned and nudged her on the arm. ‘Brilliant, you are. I’m so proud of you, Cessie, you little swimming star. I’d love it if Sandro took after you.’

Maggie’s head snapped round, as though Massimo had said something odd.

Massimo smiled at her. ‘What? Are you going to give me a lecture about comparing the kids again? You know us Farinellis are ridiculously competitive, it’s in our genes.’

Maggie seemed to shake herself. ‘Yes, I’m beginning to see that.’

Unlike the rest of us, Maggie was hopeless at hiding her emotions. I hoped I never bought her a present she didn’t like. But it wasn’t like her to be snippy and difficult. Maybe she was just exhausted after a day of biting her tongue with Francesca, though actually they seemed a little more relaxed with each other.

I paused on the doorstep, waiting to warn Massimo before we went in that Dad was here, when Maggie said, ‘I don’t want to intrude if Massimo hasn’t seen your dad yet.’

I wanted to back away, afraid of seeing Massimo’s expression, the big cloud that preceded a rant, the invective forming on his lips.

But all that happened was that his eyes flew open wide. ‘Your dad?’

Maggie rushed to apologise. ‘Sorry, sorry, I didn’t realise Massimo didn’t know. I spoilt the surprise.’

Massimo just laughed. ‘You dark horse, Lala. Kept that quiet. I didn’t know he was well enough to come out for the day.’

Maggie tried to make up for putting her foot in it. ‘It was my idea. Mum’s been helping, so if you need her at all, she’s just next door.’

Massimo loosened his tie. ‘Come on in, Maggie, I’m sure he’ll be fine.’

Maggie turned to me. ‘What do you think is best, Lara? I don’t want to overwhelm him with lots of people arriving at once.’

Francesca piped up. ‘Can we just go in for a minute? I want to show Sandro my medal.’

I couldn’t refuse, so I smiled and ushered them through the front door. Dad was playing ‘Lily the Pink’ in the sitting room, with Sandro looking rather bemused at the gusto with which Dad was singing the words. Given that they were rather nonsensical at the best of times, I couldn’t blame him for taking the opportunity to disappear into the playroom to watch telly with Francesca.

Maggie breezed in. ‘Hello Robert! Loving the singing. You’re pretty nifty on the keyboard, aren’t you?’

My heart constricted as I saw him force himself to his feet, the gentlemanly habit of standing for the lady in the room still there, hovering under the surface of the person he used to be. He put his head on one side, trying to understand who she was.

She immediately put her hand out. ‘I’m Maggie, Lara’s sister-in-law.’

Dad nodded. ‘Sister-in-law.’

The words sounded uncertain in his mouth, as though he was repeating a foreign word without knowing the meaning.

Massimo strode in. ‘Hello there. What a lovely surprise. Haven’t seen you in ages.’

All the tension I’d been clinging onto dissolved. I’d been so wrong about Massimo. He did want the best for us all. Of course there were moments when we wound each other up, but I’d blown those out of proportion. Half the time I’d probably been oversensitive anyway.

Dad’s face fell. He turned to me. ‘Who is this?’

I put my hand on Massimo’s back, pushing apology out of my fingertips, trying to transmit calm to him, hoping he wouldn’t take it personally. ‘It’s Massimo, Dad. My husband.’

Dad shook his head. ‘No, he’s not your husband.’

I didn’t want to make Dad feel foolish, but Massimo hadn’t seen him for so long, I felt as though I had to make some kind of stand, if only to show Massimo how bad things were.

‘I think you’re a bit confused today, Dad.’

I pulled a ‘bear with me’ face at Massimo. I picked up our wedding picture from the top of the television. ‘Look, that’s me on my wedding day, with Massimo. You walked me down the aisle in the church, remember?’