Thursday 12th OctoberAdele is pleased to see me. I give her a hearty welcome. Her mother, Patrizia, has sent me a beautiful jewellery box, engraved with magna-Greek gods. “It’s silver,” Adele says. I can’t refuse it. That would be seen as a total lack of respect towards her, and her family. The gesture would be taken to mean I don’t want to have anything to do with them; that I refuse them and what they stand for. These are dangerous people. I have to conjure up every shred of diplomacy I have in me. “I can’t believe how beautiful it is,” I say. “You must thank your mother very much.”
“You can call her yourself, if you want. She’d love to hear from you. Here’s her number,” Adele says, passing me a business card saying she’s an art dealer.
“I make ricotta cannoli cakes again this morning,
