No-one had had much sleep and by seven o’clock Guiseppa was already making coffee and had bread baking in the oven. Libby was still in her dressing gown, about to sit down for breakfast when the call came at eight o’clock. Michel dashed through to the hallway and grabbed the phone. Libby and Guiseppa followed him and they could see, as his face darkened, that it was bad news.
‘They don’t think he’ll last much longer so I won’t wait to eat.’
‘I’m coming too,’ said Libby as she turned and ran back to her room to put on some clothes while Michel phoned for a taxi. As the taxi sped off, Libby was aware of the lowering sky arching over them, Sunday bells tolling a loud lament.