Sesto San Giovanni
She wagged her finger, ‘You can’t be bothered to come and see me in Sesto San Giovanni – and you never come to the lake any more.’
‘I was in Sesto a couple of weeks ago.’ Now he smiled, ‘But I thought you had got married?’
She threw her head back to laugh; then she caught sight of the framed photograph. ‘And your wife?’
‘Agnese’s in America.’
‘She’s still very beautiful?’
‘Yes.’
‘That’s just like you, isn’t it? Very detached, distant – but I can remember when you were first married – and you were so in love with your wife. You’ve always been in love with her.’