A Postcard from Italy

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Alex Brown. A Postcard from Italy

Copyright

Dedication

Epigraph

PROLOGUE

EPILOGUE

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

BETTY’S TRULY SCRUMPTIOUS BABKA CAKE

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For all the people who care for other people

Audrey Hepburn

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‘It’s all there in the computer these days,’ Larry confirmed. ‘Maggie was very helpful when we were trying to track down the owner of those medals that time. We would never have known he had died or had a son up in Scotland without her help.’

‘True.’ But Grace really hoped this wasn’t the case for Connie. After retrieving a picture from the carpet that had fallen out of the back of the diary, Grace studied it and found herself looking at a slim, elegant young woman, with a row of yachts and small sailing boats moored behind her in the background. Rows of narrow, tall houses with shops and cafés with the awnings out curved along the water’s edge to her right, a church or a lighthouse peeping over the top on the pine-tree-clad cliff. She was wearing a silk scarf knotted at the side of her neck, pedal pushers and a stripy, boat-necked sun top and looked very 1950s chic – just like Audrey Hepburn in Roman Holiday – another one of Grace’s favourite films. With a handbag in the crook of her elbow, sunglasses and leather gloves in her hands, Connie looked breezy and happy at first glance, but on closer inspection there appeared to be a sadness surrounding her too, with her almond-shaped eyes gazing sideways and ever so slightly downcast. Or maybe she was just shy and didn’t like having her picture taken. It was hard to tell for sure. But Larry was right, Connie did indeed have pensive eyes. And a dazzling smile. And was strikingly beautiful … if the faded black-and-white photo was anything to go by. Grace really hoped she hadn’t died.

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