Addresses for companies within The Random House Group Limited can be found at: www.randomhouse.co.ukoffices.htm
The Random House Group Limited Reg. No. 954009
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library HB ISBN 9781846053689 TPB ISBN 9781846053696
The Random House Group Limited makes every effort to ensure that the papers used in its books are made from trees that have been legally sourced from well-managed and credibly certified forests. Our paper procurement policy can be found at: www.rbooks.co.ukenvironment
Printed and bound in Great Britain by CPI Mackays, Chatham, ME5 8TD This book is dedicated to my longtime publisher, Stephen Rubin, a great lover of all things Italian–opera, food, wine, fashion, language, and culture. Perhaps not football.
It was a hospital bed, that much appeared certain, though certainty was coming and going. It was narrow and hard and there were shiny metal railings standing sentrylike along the sides, preventing escape. The sheets were plain and very white. Sanitary. The room was dark, but sunlight was trying to creep around the blinds covering the window. He closed his eyes again; even that was painful. Then he opened them, and for a long silent minute or so he managed to keep the lids apart and focus on his cloudy little world. He was lying on his back and pinned down by firmly tucked sheets. He noticed a tube dangling to his left, running down to his hand, then disappearing up somewhere behind him. There was a voice in the distance, out in the hallway. Then he made the mistake of trying to move, just a slight adjustment of the head, and it didn’t work. Hot bolts of pain hit his skull and neck and he groaned loudly. “Rick. Are you awake?” The voice was familiar, and quickly a face followed it. Arnie was breathing on him. “Arnie?” he said with a weak, scratchy voice, then he swallowed. “It’s me, Rick, thank God you’re awake.” Arnie the agent, always there at the important moments.
