HE once started each day with tea in front of the TV. Since returning from Italy, though, Niall favoured espresso and the online La Gazzetta dello Sport. With legs crossed (and his sockless ankles exposed), he’d theatrically pronounce footballer’s names—‘Chiellini!’, ‘Immobile!’—before riding his new Vespa to work, the jacket of his tailored Italian suit flapping behind him. For lunch, ‘un panino e acqua frizzante, per favore’. Poppy found Niall’s behaviour ridiculous but in spite of herself she blushed at his evening greeting; ‘Ciao, bella,’ he’d croon, before retiring outside for an aperitivo. Kookaburras cackled from the trees.