After sleeping in fits and starts, I woke to the sounds of raised, tense voices filtering through my open window. The voices were loud, but muffled, and clearly coming from one of the nearby residences. I rolled over and reached for the photo of Mum. She was beautiful with her curls tumbling upon her shoulders, and there was a definite resemblance. I’d always thought Josie looked more like Mum with her round face and big eyes, but looking at this, it could have almost been me ten years ago. The man in the photograph still had me puzzled, though. Maybe it was Dad, and it was simply the angle of the photograph and the fact he wasn’t looking directly at the camera that was distorting my recognition of him.
I followed the aroma of coffee and found Nonna Angela in the kitchen.
‘Buon giorno, D
