‘But it must be possible,’ she blazed at him. ‘It must be.’ She caught his arm and shook it. ‘Will you stand there and let us all be buried here alive?’
He shrugged his shoulders, dragging down the corners of his mouth and spreading his hands in that inevitable Italian gesture of resignation.
‘Go and get the car!’ she ordered him.
He stood there, staring at her.
‘Go and get the car!’ she shouted. ‘Do you hear? I want my car.’ Then as he didn’t move: ‘You are a coward. You are afraid to—’
‘If you want the car, go and get it,’ he said sullenly.
She stared at him as though he’d struck her. Then she turned to Sansevino who was standing by the table, his fingers stroking his upper lip. ‘If the car is no good, there is still the aeroplane. Where is Ercole?’
‘He went into Napoli in the jeep,’ Sansevino replied. ‘It’s no good, Zina. We’ve just got to stay here.’
I thought for a moment she was going to break down. Instead she went towards him and in a quick whisper said, ‘Then give me some morfina.’
‘Later,’ he said quickly. ‘Later.’ His eyes had glanced in my direction.