When I enter, I find myself at the bottom of a white walled stairwell. It's a small entrance space with one large, dark brown door to the left which must lead to the first floor apartment. A line of silver grey postboxes are on the wall behind the front door.

I close the door as quietly as I can behind me, trying desperately to keep Simon asleep so that I can experience this for myself without distraction. I can hear Alberto grinding the keys in a door as I follow to join them up the stairs.

The thick walls of the stairway plane out on the second floor, giving a small landing area with space for the front door for that apartment, which is red and has an empty, plastic umbrella stand outside it. The stairs continue round the corner up to the next floor. Our floor.

The landing for our floor is a bit wider and longer, the stairs continue round to the left and up to the square trap door encased in the ceiling that must lead to the attic. The front door of our apartment is open. The lights are being flicked on one by one by the men, leaving the interior to be revealed before me.

Stepping in, I can smell that it's been freshly painted. There's a little part of a corridor as you enter with a white door immediately to the left, which has an internal glass panel. To the right, a bit further down, the door on the right is an exact copy of the other. This door is open and Jack is throwing our bags onto a large bed with a cast iron headboard. The floor in here is made up of big ceramic tiles with a bold brown seventies-style pattern. The window opposite the door is in darkness behind the closed outer shutters, a thin pair of off-white curtains hanging limply at either side. On the wall opposite the bed, there's an old fashioned dark wood wardrobe with deep etchings and mouldings on the front of it. A cross of wood with a brass figure of Jesus hangs on the white wall above the bed. The light bulb in the ceiling is bare. It's basic, but clean and I breathe a sigh of relief for that.

Jack takes Simon from me and places him on the bed, nestling the pillows around him to stop him from rolling off. He takes in my expression, satisfied with what he sees, then hugs me and says; "Welcome home, gorgeous."

Caught up in the moment, I wrap my arms around him and curl into his body to kiss him. After a minute or so of passionate smooching, he pulls away from me and smirks, "Later."

We find Alberto in the living room which is the last door to the right of the small corridor. Going in, I'm greeted by a stronger smell of paint, and Alberto opens up the large window on the far side of the room.

The night air floods in with a slight gust and a second pair of faded white curtains loosely flap behind the open glass window panes. This room has the same old tiles and similar solid dark wood units up against the wall with the door and also along the wall opposite the window. A scruffy, dark green sofa is against the far wall with yet another crucifix hanging above it. The door to the kitchen is to the left of the window.

Alberto apologetically calls me over and turns on the light switch to show me the room.

It's similar to a galley kitchen with eighties-style cream units and a stained chrome effect sink with a tall open drainer on the wall above it. The saving grace is the open door on the wall to the right which has a little balcony.

Alberto winks at me as he gestures to the balcony door. "Go on, take a look."

I step out onto the rough concrete balcony and lean my weight on the metal railings which run round it.

Wow. From this vantage point, the hillside below drops down, with the road curling away back down to the city. The whole of Lombardy is on display as far as the eye can see. This is what I was hoping for, this is worth the move. I take a lung full of night air and smile.

Alberto and Jack are looking nervously at me for some reason. They whisper together hastily then go off into the corridor.

What's eating them?

More discussion, then I hear the door handle to the first room in the apartment being cluncked down and pulled open. A scitter scatter of claws runs across the tiled floor of the apartment and into the kitchen and back into my life comes...

Sissy.

"Alberto? Is there something you forgot to tell us?"

*****

The little dog sits the whole night growling and glaring at me from her makeshift blanket bed near the door of the bedroom. Neither Jack nor Simon stir but I get very little sleep. I can't believe that I've been saddled with this yapping ball of fluff.

In the morning I leave Jack to deal with the creature and make a quick escape to catch the funicolare down to my new job. I have an appointment to meet them at 8.30 am.

The station is further up the hill and the entrance is in a very antique and pretty square where a few of the small through ways meet together. I go in to the ticket office, a nervous twitch activating in my right eyebrow, and try out my heavily rehearsed lines from Jack.

"Uno andate e ritorno per favore?"

The uniformed man behind the glass stares at me unimpressed. "That will be €4.30, please." He replies in perfect English without a smile.

The ride down the hillside and through the tunnel is a wonderful new experience for me and I eagerly grip to the sides of the windows in this rattling little box as I catch glimpses of the landscape flashing itself here and there. I get off and refer to the map app on my phone to direct me to work. It's a long, long walk. Luckily I have set off early this morning and even luckier, the warmth of the day, also for October, hasn't had time to escalate yet.

I finally find the place I'm looking for within a commercial block of units set around a modern central fountain. The plaque on the side of the doorway to number 142B, has the name of the language school and the number of the intercom to press.

Feeling very nervous, the eyebrow twitch accelerating, I push the button, announce my name and the heavy glass door buzzes open.

The lift takes me up to the second floor. Coming out of it, I am immediately met by Chiara. She's much shorter and slighter in real life and I feel like a clumsy giant next to her.

"Buongiorno, Mrs. Firenze."

She shakes my hand and it feels like a dead fish. I follow her into the glass encased, bright blue reception area and we sit face to face in fake leather seats. My bare legs start to stick to the material, I blame the heat.

"I want to make a few things clear before you start this evening."

"Okay."

"The situation has changed slightly and we will only need you until November."

"Ah...Okay?" I feel like I've been punched in the stomach. "Can I ask why?" Do I really want to know?

"We have an experienced teacher returning to work who has had a baby and she has agreed to come back in a month's time. So we won't be needing you any longer than this month."

I return back through the city, distracted from any new sights or sensations I could experience, closed in my disappointment of the high self-opinion I had built around landing an elevated position of employment, as I had thought this job was going to be. There's truth to 'pride comes before a fall' I suppose. Shaking and rattling back up in the metal box train, I nod to the ticket officer who smiles at me from the top station arrival platform.

Tourists and Italians alike are bustling off to their busy days and I walk slowly, dragging my feet back to my apartment. I open the front door, climb up the stairs and fiddle with the tricky door lock of our new home. Getting it unlocked, I push back the door. There sitting in the corridor just waiting for my return is the 'pis de resistance' of this morning.

Sissy.