had soon learned that, while the Prince was his greatest supporter, Max would always be his greatest enemy.
Picking up the order of service to distract himself from Max’s baleful glare, Luca scanned his father’s long list of accomplishments and titles with great sadness. There would never be such a man again, a thought that made him doubly determined to fulfil his pledge to the letter. ‘You are a born leader,’ his father had told him, ‘and so I name you my heir.’ No wonder Max hated him.
Luca hadn’t looked for the honour of being heir to the throne of Fabrizio. He didn’t need the money. He could run the country out of pocket change. Success had come when he’d nagged his father to let him bring Fabrizio up to date, and had insisted on studying tech at university. He’d gone on to become one of the most successful men in the industry. His global holdings were so vast his company almost ran itself. This was just as well as he had to turn his thoughts to ruling a country, and to filling the empty space beside him.
‘If you fail to do this within two years,’ his father had said on his deathbed, ‘our constitution states that the throne will pass by default to your brother.’ They both knew what that meant. Max would ruin Fabrizio. ‘This is your destiny, Luca,’ his father had added. ‘You cannot refuse the request of a dying man.’
Luca had no intention of doing so, but the thought of marrying a simpering princess held no appeal. The royal marriage mart, as he thought of it, didn’t come close to his love of being with his people. He would leave here and travel to his lemon groves in southern Italy, where he worked alongside the other holiday workers. There was no better way for him to learn what concerns they had, and to do something to help. The thought of being shackled to a fragile china doll appalled him. He wanted a real woman with grit and fire inside her belly.
‘There are good women out there, Luca,’ his father, the Prince, had insisted. ‘It’s up to you to find one. Pick someone strong. Search for the unusual. Step off the well-trodden path.’
At the time Luca had thought this wouldn’t be easy. Looking around today, he thought it impossible.
* * *
As funerals went, this one was small, but respectable. Callie had made sure of it. It was small in as much as the only people to mourn her father’s passing, other than herself, were their next-door neighbours, the rumbustious Browns. It was a respectable and quiet affair, because Callie had always felt she should counterbalance her father’s crude and reckless life. There couldn’t be two of them wondering where their next meal was coming from. If it hadn’t been for her friends, the Browns, laughing with her at whatever life threw up, and reminding her to have fun while she could without offending other people, as her father so often had, she’d have been tearing her hair out by now.
The Brown tribe was on its best behaviour today—if she didn’t count their five dogs piling out of their camper van to career around the country cemetery barking wildly, but they’d given Callie a glimpse of what a happy family life could be, and, in her heart of hearts, love and a happy family was what she aspired to.
‘Goodbye, Dad,’ she whispered, regretting everything they’d never been to each other as she tossed a handful of moist, cool soil on top of the coffin.
‘Don’t worry, love,’ Ma said, putting her capable arm around Callie’s shoulders. ‘The worst part is over. Your life is about to begin. It’s a book of blank pages. You can write anything on it. Close your eyes and think where you’d like to be. That’s what always makes me happy. Isn’t it, our Rosie?’
Rosie Brown, Callie’s best friend and the Browns’ oldest child, came to link arms with Callie on her other side. ‘That’s right, Ma. The world’s your oyster, Callie. You can do anything you want. And sometimes,’ Rosie added, ‘you have to listen to the advice of people you trust, and let them help you.’
‘Anywhere ten pounds will take me?’ Callie suggested, finding a grin.
Rosie sighed. ‘Anywhere has to be better than staying round the docks—sorry, Ma, I know you love it here, but you know what I’m getting at. Callie needs a change.’
By the time they’d all crammed into the van, Callie was feeling better. Being with the Browns was like taking a big dose of optimism, and, after the lifetime of verbal and physical abuse she’d endured keeping house for her father, she was ready for it. She was free. For the first time in her life she was free. There was only one question now: how was she going to use that freedom?
‘Don’t even think about work,’ Ma Brown advised as she swivelled around in the front seat to speak to Callie. ‘Our Rosie can take over your shift at the pub for now.’
‘Willingly,’ Rosie agreed, giving Callie’s arm a squeeze. ‘What you need is a holiday.’
‘It would have to be a working holiday,’ Callie said thoughtfully. ‘I don’t have enough money to go away.’ Her father had left nothing. The house they’d lived in was rented. He’d been both a violent drunk and a gambler. Callie’s job as a cleaner at the pub just about paid enough to put food on the table, and then only if she didn’t leave the money lying around for him to spend at the bookies.
‘Think about what you’d like to do,’ Ma Brown insisted. ‘It’s your turn now, our Callie.’
She liked studying. She wanted to better herself. She aspired to do more than clean up the pub. Her dream was to work in the open, with fresh air to breathe, and the sun on her face.
‘You never know,’ Ma added, shuffling around in her seat again. ‘When we clear out the house tomorrow your father might have left a wad of winnings in his clothes by mistake.’
Callie smiled wryly. She knew they’d be lucky to find a few coppers. Her father never had any money. They wouldn’t have survived at all without the Browns’ bounty. Pa Brown had an allotment where he grew most of their vegetables himself, and he always gave some to Callie.
‘Don’t forget you can stay with us as long as you need to, until you get yourself sorted out,’ Ma Brown called out from the passenger seat.
‘Thank you, Ma.’ Leaning forward, Callie gave Ma’s cheek a fond kiss. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you.’
‘You’d do more than all right,’ Ma Brown insisted firmly. ‘You’ve always been capable, and now you’re free to fly as high as your mother always intended. She used to dream about her baby and what that baby would do. It’s a tragic shame that she didn’t live to see you grow up.’
She’d soon find out what she could and couldn’t do, Callie thought as the Browns and their dogs piled out of the steamed-up van. She couldn’t stick around for long. She’d be a burden to the Browns. They had enough to do keeping their own heads above water. Once her father’s debts were paid, she’d go exploring. Maybe Blackpool. The air was bracing there. Blackpool was a traditional northern English seaside town with bags of personality, and plenty of boarding houses looking for cleaning staff. She’d research jobs there the first spare minute she got.
* * *
It would have been a grim task sorting through her father’s things the next morning, if it hadn’t been for the cheerful Browns. Ma checked every room, while Callie and Rosie sorted everything into piles for the charity shops, things that could possibly be sold, and those that were definitely going to the dump. The sale pile was disappointingly small. ‘I never realised how much rubbish we had before,’ Callie admitted.
‘Mean
