Читать книгу The Secret That Changed Everything - Lucy Gordon, Lucy Gordon - Страница 7

GOING to Italy had seemed a brilliant move for a language expert. She could improve her Italian, study the country and generally avoid recognising that she wasn’t just leaving New York; she was fleeing it.

But the truth was still the truth. Charlotte knew she had to flee memories of an emotion that had once felt like love, but which had revealed itself as disappointingly hollow, casting a negative light on almost everything in her life. It was like wandering in a desert. She belonged to nobody and nobody belonged to her. Perhaps it was this thought that made her leave her laptop computer behind. It pleased her to be beyond the reach of anyone unless she herself decided otherwise.

For two months she wandered around Italy, seeking something she couldn’t define. She made a point of visiting Naples, fascinated by the legendary Mount Vesuvius, whose eruptions had destroyed cities in the past. Disappointingly it was now considered so safe that she could wander up to the summit and stand there listening hopefully for a growl.

Silence.

Which was a bit like her life, she thought wryly. Waiting for something significant to happen. But nothing did. At twenty-seven, an age when many people had chosen their path in life, she still had no clue where hers was leading.

On the train from Naples to Rome she thought of Don, the man she’d briefly thought she loved. She’d wanted commitment and when Don didn’t offer it she’d demanded to know where they were headed. His helpless shrug had told her the worst, and she’d hastened to put distance between them.

She had no regrets. Briefly she’d wondered if she might have been cleverer and perhaps drawn him closer instead of driving him away. But in her heart she knew things had never been quite right between them. It was time to move on.

But where?

As the train pulled into Roma Termini she reckoned it might be interesting to find the answer to that question.

She took a taxi to the Hotel Geranno on the Via Vittorio Veneto, one of the most elegant and expensive streets in Rome. The hotel boasted every facility, including its own internet café. She found it easily and slipped into a booth, full of plans to contact family and friends. She might even get in touch with Don on her social networking site, just to let him know there were no hard feelings, and they could be friends.

But the words that greeted her on Don’s page were ‘Thanks to everyone for your kind wishes on my engagement. Jenny and I want our wedding to be—’

She shut the file down.

Jenny! Charlotte remembered her always hanging around making eyes at Don. And he’d noticed her. Pretty, sexy, slightly voluptuous—she was made to be noticed.

Not like me, she thought.

Some women would have envied Charlotte’s appearance. Tall, slender, dark-haired, dark-eyed; she wasn’t a woman who faded into the background. She’d always had her share of male admiration; not the kind of gawping leer that Jenny could inspire, but satisfying enough. Or so she’d thought.

But Don hadn’t wasted any time mourning her and that was just fine. The past was the past.

She touched a few more keys to access her email, and immediately saw one from her sister Alex, headlined, You’ll never believe this!

Alex liked to make things sound exciting so, although mildly intrigued, Charlotte wasn’t alarmed. But, reading the email, she grew still again as a family catastrophe unfolded before her eyes.

‘Mom—’ she murmured. ‘You couldn’t have—it’s not possible!’

She had always known that her father, Cedric Patterson, was her mother’s second husband. Before him Fenella had been married to Clay Calhoun, a Texas rancher. Only after their divorce had she married Cedric and lived with him in New York. There she’d borne four children—the twins Matt and Ellie, Charlotte and her younger sister Alexandra. Now it seems that Mom was already carrying Matt and Ellie when she left Clay, Alex wrote. She wrote and told him she was pregnant, but by that time he was with Sandra, who seems to have hidden the letter but, oddly enough, kept it. Nobody knew about it until both she and Clay were dead. He died last year, and the letter was found unopened, so I guess he never knew about Matt and Ellie.

What do you think of that? All these years we’ve thought they were our brother and sister, but now it seems we’re only half-siblings! Same mother, different father. When Ellie told me what had happened I couldn’t get my head around it, and I’m still in a spin.

Quickly Charlotte ran through her other emails, seeking one from Ellie that she was sure would be there. But she found nothing. Disbelieving, she ran through them again, but there was no word from Ellie.

Which meant that everyone in the family knew except her. Ellie hadn’t bothered to tell her something so momentous. It had been left to Alex to send her the news as an afterthought, as though she was no more than a fringe member of the family. Which, right now, was how she felt.

Returning to the lobby she again knew the sensation of being lost in a desert. But this desert had doors, one leading to a restaurant known for its haute cuisine, the other leading to a bar. Right this minute a drink was what she needed.

The barman smiled as she approached. ‘What can I get you?’

‘A tequila,’ she told him.

When it was served she looked around for a place to sit, but could see only one seat free, at the far end of the bar. She slipped into it and found that she could lean back comfortably against the wall, surveying her surroundings.

The room was divided into alcoves, some small, some large. The small ones were all taken up by couples, gazing at each other, revelling in the illusion of privacy. The larger ones were crowded with ‘beautiful people’ as though the cream of Roman society had gathered here tonight.

In the nearest alcove six people focused their attention on one man. He was king of all he surveyed, Charlotte thought with a touch of amusement. And with reason. In his early thirties, handsome, lean, athletic, he held centre-stage without effort. When he laughed, they laughed. When he spoke they listened.

Nice if you can get it, Charlotte thought with a little sigh. I’ll bet his volcano never falls silent.

Just then he glanced up and saw her watching him. For the briefest moment he turned his head to one side, a question in his eyes. Then one of the women claimed his attention and he turned to her with a perfectly calculated smile.

An expert, she thought. He knows exactly what he’s doing to them, and what they can do for him.

Such certainly seemed enviable. Her own future looked depressing. Returning to New York smacked of defeat. She could stay in Italy for the year she’d promised herself, but that was less inviting now that things were happening at home; things from which she was excluded.

She thought of Don and Jenny, revelling in their love. All around her she saw people happy in each other’s company, smiling, reaching out. And suddenly it seemed unbearable that there was nobody reaching out to her. She finished her drink and sat staring at the empty glass.

‘Excuse me, can I just—?’

It was the man from the alcove, easing himself into the slight space between her and the next bar stool. She leaned back to make space for him but a slight unevenness in the floor made him wobble and slew to the side, colliding with her.

‘Mi dispiace,’ he apologised in Italian, steadying her with his hand.

‘Va tutto bene,’ she reassured him. ‘Niente di male.’ All is well. No harm done.

Still in Italian he said, ‘But you’ll let me buy you a drink to say sorry.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Another tequila?’ asked the barman.

‘Certainly not,’ said the newcomer. ‘Serve this lady a glass of the very best Chianti, then bring another round of drinks to me and my friends over there.’

He retreated and the barman placed a glass of red wine in front of Charlotte. It was the most delicious she had ever tasted. Sipping it she glanced over at him, and it was no surprise to find him watching her. She raised her glass in salute and he raised his back. This seemed to disconcert the women sitting on either side of him, who asserted themselves to reclaim him, Charlotte was amused to notice.

Despite being in the heart of Rome they were speaking English. She was sitting close enough to overhear some of the remarks passing back and forth, half sentences, words that floated into the distance, but all telling the tale of people who lived expensive lives.

‘You were on that cruise, weren’t you? Wasn’t it a gorgeous ship? Everything you wanted on demand…’

‘I knew I’d met you before… you were at the opening of that new…’

‘Look at her. If she’s not wearing the latest fashion she thinks…’

Leaning back, Charlotte observed the little gathering with eyes that saw everything. Two of the women were watching Lucio like lions studying prey, but they were in alliance. She could have sworn that one murmured to the other, ‘Me first’. She couldn’t hear the words, but she could read their expressions: watchful, confident that each would have their turn with him.

She could understand their desires. It wasn’t merely his striking looks and costly clothes, but his air of being in charge, directing his own life and that of others. This was a man who’d never known doubt or fear.

She envied him. It must be good to know so certainly who you were, what you were, how others saw you and where you belonged in the world, instead of being that saddest of creatures—a woman who drank alone.

As if to emphasise the point the seat beside her was occupied by a woman gazing devotedly at her male companion, who returned the compliment with interest, then slid an arm about her shoulders, drew her close and said fervently, ‘Let’s go now.’

‘Yes, let’s,’ she breathed. And they were gone.

At once the man in the alcove rose, excused himself to his companions and swiftly claimed the empty seat before anyone else could try.

‘Can I get you another drink?’ he asked Charlotte.

‘Well, just a small one. I should be leaving.’

‘Going somewhere special?’

‘No,’ she said softly. ‘Nowhere special.’

After a moment he said, ‘Are you alone?’

‘Yes.’

He grinned. ‘Perhaps you’d be better off with someone to protect you from clumsy guys like me.’

‘No need. I can protect myself.’

‘I see. No man necessary, eh?’

‘Absolutely.’

A voice called, ‘Hey, Lucio! Let’s get going!’

His companions in the alcove were preparing to leave, beckoning him towards the door.

‘Afraid I can’t,’ he said. ‘I’m meeting someone here in half an hour. It was nice to meet you.’

Reluctantly they bid him goodbye and drifted away. When the door was safely closed he breathed out in obvious relief.

‘Hey, your friends are crazy about you,’ she reproved him lightly. ‘You might at least return the compliment.’

‘They’re not my friends. I only know them casually, and two I never met before today.’

‘But you were dousing them with charm.’

‘Of course. I’m planning to make money out of them.’

‘Ah! Hence the charm!’

‘What else is charm for?’

‘So now you’re girding up for your next “victim” in half an hour.’

He gave a slow smile. ‘There’s no one coming. That was just to get rid of them.’

She looked down into her glass, lest her face reveal how much this pleased her. He would be a welcome companion for a little while.

He read her exactly, offering his hand and saying, ‘Lucio—’

His last name was drowned by a merry shout from further along the bar. She raised her voice to say, ‘Charlotte.’

‘Buona sera, Charlotte.’

‘Buona sera, Lucio.’

‘Are you really Italian?’ he asked, his head slightly to one side.

‘Why do you ask?’

‘Because I can’t quite pinpoint your accent. Venice? No, I don’t think so. Milan? Hmm. Rome—Naples?’

‘Sicily?’ Charlotte teased.

‘No, not Sicily. You sound nothing like.’

‘You said that very quickly. You must know Sicily well.’

‘Fairly well. But we were talking about you. Where do you come from?’

His bright smile was like a visor behind which he’d retreated at the mention of Sicily. Though intrigued, she was too wise to pursue the matter just yet. Later would be more interesting.

‘I’m not Italian at all,’ she said. ‘I’m American.’

‘You’re kidding me!’

‘No, I’m not. I come from New York.’

‘And you speak my language like a native. I’m impressed.’ Someone squeezed by them, forcing them to draw back uncomfortably. ‘There’s no room for us here,’ he said, taking her arm and drawing her towards the door.

Several pairs of female eyes regarded her with frank envy. It was clear that the watching women had their own ideas about how the evening would end.

Well, you’re wrong, Charlotte thought, slightly irritated. He’s a nice guy and I’ll enjoy talking to him, but that’s all. Not everything has to end in amore, even in Italy. OK, so he’s suave, sophisticated, expensively dressed and fantastically good-looking, but I won’t hold that against him.

‘So why Italian?’ he asked as they began to stroll along the Via Vittorio Veneto.

‘I was always fascinated by foreign languages. I studied several at school, but somehow it was always Italian that stood out and attracted me more than the others. So I learned it through and through. It’s such a lovely language.’

‘And in the end you got a job here, probably working at the U.S. Embassy, just up the street.’

‘No, I don’t work here. I’m a translator in New York. I do Italian editions of books, sometimes universities hire me to look over old manuscripts. And I suddenly thought, it’s about time I actually saw the country and drank in what it’s really like. So I caught the next plane out.’

‘Literally?’

‘Well, it took a couple of days to make arrangements, but that’s all. Then I was free to go.’

‘No ties? Family?’

‘I’ve got parents, siblings, but nobody who can constrain my freedom.’

‘Freedom,’ he mused. ‘That’s what it’s really about, huh?’

‘One of the things. I’ve done some mad, stupid things in my life, and most of them have been about staying free.’ She gave a wry laugh. ‘It’s practically my family nickname. Ellie’s the beautiful one, Alex is the lovable one and I’m the crazy one.’

‘That sounds fascinating. I’d really like to hear about your craziness.’

‘Well, there’s the time I set my heart on marrying this guy and my parents said no. We were only seventeen, which they thought was too young.’

He considered this with an air of seriousness that had a touch of humour. ‘They could have had a point.’

‘The way I saw it they were denying me my own way. Hell would freeze over before I admitted they could be right. So we eloped.’

‘You married at seventeen?’

‘No way. By the time we’d covered a few miles I could see what a juvenile twerp he was. To be fair I think he’d spotted the same about me. Anyway, I got all set to make a run for it, and bumped into him because he was making a run for it, too.’

Lucio roared with laughter. ‘What happened when you got home?’

‘My mother’s a very clever woman. She knew better than to make a fuss. When she caught me sidling in she glanced up and said, “Oh, there you are. Don’t make a noise, your father’s asleep.” We had a talk later but there were no hysterics. By then she was used to me doing stupid things.’

‘But would getting married be the path to freedom? Husbands can be very restrictive.’

She chuckled. ‘I didn’t think of that at the time. I just pictured him doing things my way. Luckily I saw the truth before too late.’

‘Yes, husbands have this maddening habit of wanting their own way.’

‘Oh, I learnt the lesson.’

‘So you still don’t have a husband?’

‘No husband, no nothing.’ She added casually, ‘These days it’s the way to be.’

‘You’re a true woman of your age. At one time an unmarried girl would wonder why no man wanted her. Now she wonders what’s the best way to keep them off.’

‘Right,’ she responded in the same teasing voice. ‘Sometimes you have to be really ingenious. And sometimes just ruthless.’

‘You talk like an expert. Or like a woman who’s been kicked in the teeth and is going to do some kicking back.’ He saw her wry face and said quickly, ‘I’m sorry, I had no right to say that. None of my business.’

‘It’s all right. If we all minded our own business there’d be precious little of interest to talk about.’

‘I’ve got a feeling I should be nervous about what you’re going to say next.’

‘I could ask about Sicily, couldn’t I? Is that where you keep a secret wife, or perhaps two secret wives? Now that would really be interesting.’

‘Sorry to disappoint you but there’s no wife, secret or otherwise. I was born in Sicily, but I left it years ago, and I’ve never been back. The life just didn’t suit me. Like you, I went exploring the world, and I ended up with a family who owned vineyards. Vines, wine-making, I loved it from the start. They were wonderful to me, practically adopted me, and finally left the vineyards to me.’

And he’d turned them into a top money-making business, she thought. That was clear from the way he dressed and the way others reacted to him.

They were reaching the end of the street. As they turned the corner Charlotte stopped, astonished and thrilled by the sight that met her eyes.

‘The Trevi Fountain,’ she breathed. ‘I’ve always wanted to see it. It’s so huge, so magnificent….’

This was no mere fountain. A highly decorated palace wall rose behind it, at the centre of which was a triumphal arch, framing the magnificent, half-naked figure of Oceanus, mythical god of water, ruling over the showers that cascaded into the pool below. Everywhere was flooded with light, giving the water a dazzling glitter against the night.

‘I’ve read about it,’ she murmured, ‘and seen pictures, but—’

‘But nothing prepares you,’ he agreed. ‘Some things have to be experienced before they become real.’

Nearby was a café with tables out on the street. Here they could sit and watch the humming life about them.

‘Nice to see people having a good time,’ she murmured.

‘Does that mean your life is unhappy now?’

‘Oh, no,’ she said quickly. ‘But it does tend to be a bit too serious. Legal documents, history books. Not exactly filled with fun. And sometimes you need to remind yourself about fun.’

He regarded her curiously, thinking that a woman with her looks could have all the fun she wanted with all the men she wanted. So there was a mystery here. But he was too astute to voice the thought.

‘But Italy should remind you of fun,’ he said. ‘It’s not all cathedrals and sober history.’

‘I know. You’ve only got to stroll the streets of Rome in the twilight, and see—well, lots of things.’

His grin and the way he nodded spoke volumes about his own life. Doubtless it was full of ‘twilight activities’, she thought. And they would be fun. She didn’t doubt that either.

‘Anyway,’ she went on, ‘my favourite Italian was—’

She named a historical character with a legendary reputation for wickedness.

‘He wasn’t as bad as people think,’ Lucio observed. ‘He was actually quite a serious man who—’

‘Don’t say that,’ she interrupted him quickly. ‘You’ll spoil him for me. If he’s not wicked he’s not interesting.’

He regarded her curiously. ‘There aren’t many people who’d see it that way.’

‘But it’s true.’

‘Certainly it’s true, but we’re not supposed to say so.’

‘Well, I’m always doing things I’m not supposed to. That’s why I’m the black sheep of the family.’

‘Because you eloped at seventeen?’

She chuckled. ‘There were a few more things than that. There was the politician who came to hold a meeting in New York, all virtue and pomposity, except that he’d spent the previous night in a place where he shouldn’t have been. I’d seen him leaving and I couldn’t resist getting up at the meeting and asking him about it.’

‘Shame on you!’ he said theatrically.

‘Yes, I have no sense of propriety, so I’m told.’

‘So you’re wicked and interesting, eh?’

‘Certainly wicked. You know, everyone has their own talents. My sister Ellie is a talented dancer, my sister Alex is a talented vet—’

‘And you’re a talented linguist.’

‘Oh, that! That’s just earning a living. No, my real talent, the thing at which I’m practically a genius, is getting my own way.’

‘Now you really interest me.’

‘It can always be done, if you know how to go about it.’

‘Cunning?’

‘Certainly. Cunning, devious, manipulative, wicked—whatever it takes.’

‘Is that the real reason you broke off your career to go travelling?’

‘In one sense. I wanted to find another world, and I’m finding it. That’s the way to live. Know what you want, and don’t stop until you get it.’ She raised her glass to him. ‘I guess there’s probably a lot of interesting wickedness in your own life.’

He assumed a shocked air.

‘Me? No time for it. I’m far too busy earning a respectable living, I assure you.’

‘Right. I’ll believe you. Thousands wouldn’t.’

He grinned. ‘You do me an injustice.’

‘No, I don’t. Any man who proclaims himself respectable needs to be treated with suspicion.’

‘I protest—’

‘Don’t bother because I won’t believe a word you say.’

They plunged into a light-hearted argument with much vigour on both sides, but also much laughter. When she looked at her watch she was amazed to see how much time had passed. She had a strange sense of being mentally at one with him. Almost like a brother.

But the next moment he turned his head so that she saw his profile against the glittering light from the fountain. Not brotherly, she thought. Disconcertingly attractive in a way that eclipsed other men, even Don. Or perhaps especially Don. But definitely not brotherly.

She remembered the first time she and Don had ventured beyond kisses, both eager to explore. But something had been missing, she knew that now.

‘Are you all right?’ Lucio asked.

‘Yes, fine.’

‘Sure? You seemed as if something had disturbed you.’

‘No, I guess I’m just a bit hungry.’

‘They do great snacks here. I’ll get the menu.’

‘I’ll just have whatever you’re having.’

He ordered spicy rolls and they sat eating contentedly.

‘Why are you looking at me like that?’ she asked.

‘Just trying to solve the mystery. You don’t strike me as the kind of woman who goes along with whatever the man orders.’

‘Dead right, I’m not. But this is new territory for me, and I’m learning something fresh all the time.’

‘So I’m part of the exploration?’

‘Definitely. I like to find something unexpected. Don’t you?’

‘I sometimes think my life has had too much that’s unexpected. You need time to get used to things.’

She hoped he would expand on that. She was beginning to be intrigued by everything he said. But before she could speak there was an excited cry as more crowds surged into the piazza, eager to toss coins into the water. For a while they both sat watching them.

‘It’s the age of science,’ she reflected. ‘We’re all supposed to be so reasonable. Yet people still come here to toss coins and make wishes.’

‘Perhaps they’re right,’ he said. ‘Being too reasonable can be dangerous. Making a wish might free you from that danger.’

‘But there are always other dangers lurking,’ she mused. ‘What to do about them?’

‘Then you have to decide which ones to confront and which to flee,’ he said.

She nodded. ‘That way lies wisdom. And freedom.’

‘And freedom matters to you more than anything, doesn’t it?’ he asked.

‘Yes, but you must know what it really means. You think you’re free, but then something happens, and suddenly it looks more like isolation.’

A sudden bleakness in her voice on the last word caught his attention.

‘Tell me,’ he said gently.

‘I thought I knew my family. An older brother and sister who were twins, a younger sister, but then it turns out that there’s been a big family secret all along. It began to come out and—’ she gave a sigh ‘—I was the last one to know. I’ve always been closest to Matt, even though he can be so distant sometimes, but now it’s like I’m not really part of the family. Just an outsider, in nobody’s confidence.’

‘You spoke of nobody caring. Nobody at all? What about outside the family?’

She grimaced. ‘Yes, there was someone. We were moving slowly but I thought we’d get there in time. Well, I’m an outsider there, too. It feels like wandering in a desert.’

She checked herself there. She hadn’t meant to confide her desert fantasy, for fear of sounding paranoid, but he seemed to understand so much that it had come out naturally.

‘I know the feeling,’ he said, ‘but a desert can be a friendly place. There’s no one there to hurt you.’

‘It’s true there are no enemies there,’ she said. ‘But no friends either, nobody who cares about you.’

‘You wouldn’t want to be there for ever,’ he agreed. ‘But for a while it can be a place to rest and recruit your strength. Then one day you can come back and sock ‘em on the jaw.’

She longed to ask him what events and instincts lay behind that thought. All around her doors and windows seemed to be flying open, revealing mysterious roads leading to mists and beyond, to more mysteries, tempting her forward.

But could it be right to indulge her confusions with a stranger?

Then she saw him looking at her, and something in his eyes was like a hand held out in understanding.

Why not?

What harm could come of it?

‘I guess my real problem is that I’m no longer quite sure who I am,’ she said.

He nodded. ‘That can happen easily, and it’s scary.’

‘Yes, it is. With Don I always felt that I was the one in charge of our relationship, but then I found I wasn’t. Oh, dear, I suppose that makes me sound like a managing female.’

‘Sometimes that’s what a man needs to bring out the best of him,’ he said.

‘Did that happen to you?’

‘No, she wasn’t “managing” enough. If she had been, she might have bound me to her in time to save us both.’ He added quickly, ‘Go on telling me about you.’

Now a connection had been established it was easy to talk. Neither of them went into much detail, but the sense of being two souls adrift was a bond. It was a good feeling and she was happy to yield to it.

‘What happened to your gift for getting your own way?’ he asked at last.

‘I guess it failed me. I didn’t say it worked all the time. You have to seize the chance, but sometimes the chance can’t be seized.’

A cheer that went up from the fountain made them both look there.

‘More coins, more wishes,’ he said.

‘Aren’t they supposed to wish for a return to Rome?’ she asked.

‘Yes, but they always add another one, usually about a lover.’

‘I’d like to go closer.’

As they neared the water they could see a man tossing in coins by the dozen, then closing his eyes and muttering fiercely.

‘What’s he wishing for?’ Charlotte asked.

‘My guess is he wants his lady-love to appear out of the blue, and tell him he’s forgiven. When a guy’s as desperate as that it’s pretty bad.’

Then the incredible happened. A female hand tapped the young man on the shoulder, he turned, gave a shout of joy and embraced her.

‘You came,’ he bellowed. ‘She came, everyone. She’s here.’

‘You see, it works,’ someone shouted. ‘Everyone toss a coin and make a wish.’

Laughing, Charlotte took two coins from her bag and threw one in, crying, ‘Bring me back to Rome.’

‘That’s not enough,’ Lucio said. ‘Now you must wish that Don will come back.’

‘Too late for that. We’re not right for each other. I know that now. But what about you? Your lady might arrive and decide to “manage” you, after all, since it’s so obviously what you want.’

But he shook his head. ‘She’s gone to a place from which she’ll never return.’

‘Oh, I’m so sorry. Did it happen very recently?’

‘No,’ he said softly. ‘It was a hundred thousand years ago.’

She nodded, understanding that time, whether long or short, could make no difference to some situations. But another thought danced through her mind so fleetingly that she was barely aware of it. Another woman had stood between them, but no longer. Suddenly she had vanished, leaving only questions behind.

Impulsively she reached out and laid a hand on his cheek.

‘Hey, you two, that’s not good enough,’ came an exultant cry from nearby. ‘This is the fountain of love. Look around you.’

Everywhere couples were in each other’s arms, some hugging fondly, some kissing passionately. Lucio gazed into her face for only a moment before drawing her close.

‘I guess they feel we’re letting the side down,’ he said.

‘And we can’t have that, can we?’ she agreed.

The feel of his lips on hers was passionate yet comforting, confirming her sensation that she was in the right place with the right person.

‘I’m glad I met you,’ he whispered against her mouth.

‘I’m glad, too.’

They walked slowly back along the Via Vittorio Veneto. Neither spoke until they reached the hotel and he said, ‘Let me take you up to your room.’

She could have bid him goodnight there and then, but she didn’t. She knew now that as the evening passed the decision had been slowly building inside her. What she was going to do was right, and whatever might come of it, she was resolved.

When they reached her room he waited while she opened the door. Then he took a step back, allowing her time to change her mind. But she had passed that point, and so had he. When she held out her hand he took it, followed her inside and closed the door, shutting out the world.

In the morning she awoke to find herself alone. By her bed was a scrap of paper, on which was written, ‘Thank you with all my heart. Lucio.’

At breakfast she looked around but didn’t see him. She realised that she didn’t even know his last name.

Strangely the situation did not distress her. They had been ships that passed in the night because that was what both of them had chosen, both of them needed. He’d been passionate and at the same time a gentle, considerate lover, with a mysterious gift for making her feel as though her troubles were falling away. She could go on to whatever the future held, stronger and more confident.

But gradually, a few weeks later, she discovered what the future did hold, and she realised that nothing would ever be the same. Now it mattered that she didn’t know his full name. It took several hours’ online research to discover that he was Lucio Constello, one of the most notable men in the business, with vineyards all over the country. But the most famous one was in Tuscany.

She’d set out to confront him, wondering how this business could possibly end, and soon she would know.

There he was, far ahead. The moment of truth had arrived, and she had no choice but to go forward.