Page 76 of Old Girls on Deck

We pressed on onto a well-lit, wide highway which looked quite new, and Genova was right, there was definitely less traffic at that hour, apart from the huge lorries which occasionally thundered past us, honking their horns and causing the three of us in the back seat to cling on for dear life.

The dog, who was about the size of a spaniel and was called Enzo, seemed to find this very entertaining and clambered over us, tail wagging, drool splattering over us. This was because Evelyn had unwisely tried to bribe him with one of her hidden fritole, a kindness which of course encouraged Enzo to hope for more.

Occasionally Genova would reach between the seats and swipe at him.

‘Enzo! Cane cattivo! Bad dog!’

At which point Enzo would retreat to the footwell, sulking for a few minutes, before gradually creeping back up on to our laps, tail wagging again in anticipation.

These episodes invariably were accompanied by Genova swerving across the road and incurring the understandable wrath of the lorry drivers behind us. At one point I squeezed my eyes shut and was grateful that Eddy didn’t know what I was up to. If Joe or Luke had been doing this, I would have been beside myself with fear. Occasionally Diana and I exchanged terrified glances over the top of Evelyn’s head. I could almost see the headlines.

Elderly Brits in motorway dash cause pile up.

Italian police blame absentminded pensioners for E45 carnage.

About ninety minutes later we swung off the road towards a town which clambered up a hill in a series of hairpin bends, where a few lights from houses and apartment blocks were still shining out encouragingly.

‘Potenza is a lovely town,’ Genova said, ‘you must return. They make a wonderful dish if you are hungry, pasta mollicata. Tomatoes, onions wine and stale bread. Simply delicious. But Potenza has not been lucky. There was damage during the war, and earthquakes. But luckier than Craco, where there was a terrible landslide, and the town was abandoned.’

The three of us looked at each other, and in the dim glow of a streetlight, Diana pulled a face worthy of Munch’s The Scream.

‘We certainly pick our spots, don’t we?’ Evelyn said happily. ‘First, Pompeii where Vesuvius might erupt at any moment, and now a town famous for earthquakes.’

Enzo, sitting at her feet gave a muffled woof and Evelyn gave him another fritole from her handbag.

We stopped at last outside a house in a narrow street, perched on the side of the hill which probably in daylight had the most marvellous views over the valley below. Genova stopped her car in the middle of the road, went to get something from the boot of her car and banged on the front door.

The three of us sighed with relief that at least we had stopped. The racket from the car shaking when it went over 100km/h, which it did very frequently, had ceased, and we were all still in one piece.

Raphaël turned to look at us.

‘Are you alright, ladies?’

We gave him weak smiles of agreement.

We saw a light go on in one of the upstairs rooms, and after a few minutes the door opened and a man stood there in a striped dressing gown, his hair on end. By the look on his face, he was not pleased at all to be woken up at nearly midnight, but Genova handed over the painting and they had a short conversation which included some hand waving towards us by Genova and some fairly brusque language from her customer.

Enzo stood up at the window, his back paws very heavy on my thigh for such a small dog and let loose a volley of barks.

‘I was hoping we might use the facilities,’ Evelyn said quietly, ‘but by the look on that man’s face, maybe that’s not such a good idea.’

In the meantime, a couple of delivery vans had stopped behind us and there were horns honking their disapproval, a woman shouting out of an upstairs window, plus one man who had got out of his lorry and was yelling something that didn’t sound very friendly.

Completely unperturbed, Genova skipped back and got into the car.

‘He was delighted,’ she said.

‘He didn’t look very delighted,’ Diana said. ‘I think you woke him up.’

She laughed. ‘Ah well, he should know me by now. That was my father. I have painted a picture for him of his mother, as a birthday present. I copied an old black-and-white photograph, and I really did try to make her face smile, but it wasn’t easy.’

Then it was back down the winding road towards the highway.

‘There is a petrol station a few miles ahead if you wish to stop,’ Genova said as she rocketed her way up some slip roads and past a petrol tanker.

‘Ideal,’ Evelyn said with feeling as we clung together and Enzo, seizing his opportunity, nosed into my handbag.

‘I need to get some fuel anyway, and there is a pizzeria there if you are hungry.’