devastated by Hector’s illness. He was her only living relative and she loved him dearly. She’d already lost her mother when she was just five years old, her beloved grandmother who had been so important to her throughout her childhood. Now her father was leaving her.
It seemed that everyone she loved eventually left her.
Even the only man she had ever loved, Marco De Luca, had left her.
Suddenly, the sound of someone calling her name caught her attention. It was her friend, Rosie, from work.
‘What are you doing here so late?’ her friend asked curiously. She was just leaving the building where the magazine had its offices.
‘I came to collect a camera.’ Claudia smiled warmly at her friend, despite the way she was feeling inside. ‘What about you?’
‘I’ve got a date later on and there wasn’t any point going home first,’ Rosie said. ‘We’re going ice-skating. Have you met my boyfriend, Rob?’
‘I don’t think so,’ Claudia said, noticing that Rosie was following her back into the building. Although a large part of her wanted to be left alone right then, she knew instinctively that a little distracting company wouldn’t hurt. ‘Is he the tall, gorgeous one?’ she asked, thinking of another man that description could equally well apply to.
‘Yes.’ Rosie grinned. ‘Walk with me to Somerset House and I’ll introduce you.’
‘I’d love to,’ Claudia said, ‘but I don’t think I’d be very good company this evening. I’m feeling really tired.’
‘Come on,’ Rosie said. ‘You don’t have to stay—actually, I’d prefer to keep him all to myself—but I just want to show him off!’
‘All right—’ Claudia laughed ‘—I promise I’ll just admire him, then I’ll take myself home and leave you two together.’
They walked down to The Strand, where an ice rink had been set up in the courtyard of the magnificent eighteenth century building of Somerset House. A giant Christmas tree was illuminated at one end of the rink and the ice was glittering under the sparkling coloured lights.
It wasn’t long before Rosie’s boyfriend arrived, then a few minutes later Claudia waved goodbye as they joined the queue for the next skating session.
She stood beside the railings for a moment, watching the skaters circling the rink. It was a beautiful scene, full of happy couples and families skating together.
Suddenly a wave of sadness washed over her. She felt more alone than ever before.
‘You know where everything is,’ Gwen said, handing Claudia the key to the old fisherman’s cottage. ‘Stay as long as you want—there’s no one booked in till the New Year.’
‘Thanks, Gwen,’ Claudia said, leaning forward to kiss the eighty-year-old Welsh lady affectionately on the cheek. She was an old friend of her grandmother’s, but she was still as sprightly as someone ten, or even twenty, years younger. ‘I can only stay a night or two, but I just had to get out of the city for a little while.’
‘Should I call Rhys to give you a lift down the hill?’ Gwen asked in her wonderful accent.
‘No thanks. My bag isn’t heavy,’ Claudia said, turning to leave. She didn’t want to bother Gwen’s son, Rhys. He must be close to retirement age, but she’d seen him busy working in his vegetable garden as she’d walked from the bus stop. ‘After the train and bus, I could do with some fresh air.’
‘Plenty of that here,’ Gwen laughed as she wrapped her woolly cardigan tightly around herself and closed her front door.
Claudia hefted her bag on her shoulder and set off along the winding road that led down to the cottage. She’d been coming to this part of Wales all her life and it was like a second home to her. In fact, until her grandmother died when she was thirteen, it had felt more like her home than the pristine town house she’d lived in with her father and Francesca.
Gwen had been her grandmother’s friend and neighbour for sixty years. After her grandmother died, Gwen had extended a permanent invitation for Claudia to visit whenever she wanted. Gwen and her son Rhys owned a little cottage that they rented out to holidaymakers for a bit of extra income, but whenever it wasn’t booked Claudia was welcome to stay in it.
It was mid-afternoon by the time she got to the cottage and, as she wanted to fit in an hour’s work before it got dark, she grabbed her camera and headed straight down to the sea.
It was good to be back in Wales. It was the one place in the world where she felt a strong connection with her mother. Maybe here, far away from all her troubles, she might find some much needed peace of mind—if only for a day or two before she gave herself over to Francesca and Vasile’s unthinkable scheme.
It was at this cottage that Marco had left her four years ago, and she’d briefly wondered whether it was wise to come here and risk stirring up memories. But it was already too late—meeting Marco yesterday had seen to that. Besides, she’d been to the cottage lots of times since he’d left, and right now the blustery conditions couldn’t have been more different from the glorious summer weather they had enjoyed when she’d brought Marco to her mother’s home village.
The water foamed around the slick black boulders as she carefully picked her way out across the rocky beach towards the incoming tide. The water was already filling the deeper recesses between the rocks and she had to tread carefully so as not to slip. She knew there was still plenty of time to make it out to her favourite vantage point—a particularly giant rocky mound that stood higher than the surrounding beach.
It felt good to be working. For a few minutes she could put all her troubles out of her mind and concentrate on taking photos. Photography had always been her passion. She felt so fortunate that her job included taking photos to assess how each camera performed in different conditions.
The sky was low with dark clouds and the churning sea was a deep slate grey with an ever-moving pattern of white water as the waves broke across the rocks. A strong wind whipped her hair about and roared in her ears, combining with the sound of the crashing waves to create a wild, atmospheric soundtrack. It was a dramatic scene—and it suited her mood.
But, despite her efforts to clear her mind, Claudia’s thoughts turned to Marco. She bit her lip and stared out across the bay, but she wasn’t seeing the view. She was remembering how devastated she’d been when Marco had left her.
She’d woken up early in the morning, the thin dawn light filtering through the curtains in the cottage bedroom, to find him gone. At first she’d been frantic with worry, imagining something terrible had happened to him. But then she’d realised that his sports car was gone and he’d packed and taken all his things with him.
Then she’d remembered he’d received a phone call late in the evening. At the time she hadn’t thought anything of it. He had always worked, day and night, and phone calls had been an inevitable part of that. But, when she’d thought about it, she didn’t remember him coming back to bed afterwards—she must have fallen into a deep sleep after hours of lovemaking that evening, and had been oblivious to him packing and leaving.
She’d started to worry that he’d received terrible news, that maybe his sister had been in an accident or perhaps there’d been an incident at one of the businesses he owned.
But
