Teddy Marconi.’
I wrack my brains trying quickly to locate the significance of Teddy Marconi. ‘Your American client?’
‘You got it. Well, he’s only invited me over to his house in Miami.’
‘Miami! Wow!’ It’s not unusual for Luke to meet with clients in their own homes, but usually it’s the UK. Luke likes to see where his paintings are going to be displayed; he says it helps him get a sense of what they want. The painting he’s working on now is for Marconi’s London apartment. When Luke had gone to meet with Marconi in Kensington, I had taken the opportunity to do a bit of sightseeing and we had met up afterwards for a night away in a hotel. It was a very romantic evening, as I remember.
‘Yeah, can you believe it?’ says Luke.
‘So, do I get to go with you again?’ I tease. A trip to London and leaving the girls with Mum for the night is one thing, but both of us away to America for at least three nights would be too much to expect of Mum.
‘Ah, sorry, Babe, I was just getting to that bit,’ says Luke. ‘Marconi wants me there next week, Tuesday in fact. He’s paying for the flight and everything. Said all I have to do is turn up. So, unless you can get the week off work, I’m flying solo.’
I pull a mock-sad face. ‘So you’re leaving me behind while you go and have fun in Miami.’ I slip my arms around his neck. ‘I hope you’re going to make this up to me.’
Luke pulls gently at the belt of my dressing gown and slides his hands inside. ‘I’m sure I can do that.’
After our little interval, Luke decides that he has probably worked as much as he can for the day. It’s not unusual for him to work twenty-four hours solid when the mood takes him. However, he’s going to have a snooze for a couple of hours.
‘I’ll take the girls out for breakfast,’ I say. ‘Shall we take a walk along the seafront? It’s such a nice day for the time of year, would be a shame to waste it. We could get the girls an ice cream?’
‘Sounds good to me,’ says Luke. ‘Come and wake me up at lunchtime.’ He yawns and we pad out of the studio together, just as Chloe comes down the stairs.
‘Right, we’re going out for breakfast,’ I say, scooping her up in my arms. ‘Let’s go and get dressed.’
Upstairs in my bedroom, I dive in the shower quickly while Luke entertains Chloe. I can hear them playing the tickle-monster game. It’s a simple game but Chloe loves it and it keeps her entertained until I’ve got myself dressed.
I hear my mobile ping to tell me I have an email from the charging dock on the bedside table.
My heart gives a double beat as I see the sender’s name.
‘You all right, Babe?’ asks Luke, rolling over onto his front and looking up at me.
‘It’s an email.’
‘And what do you usually do with emails? You read them and reply to them.’ Chloe squeals and jumps onto Luke’s back. He makes an umph sound as she knocks his breath out.
I pick up my phone. I don’t know why I’m suddenly apprehensive about looking at the email. I have such a mix of emotions flying around inside me about Alice getting in touch. I suppose it’s the reality check now. First there was shock, then happiness and now caution. I wonder if there are stages of emotion for being reunited with a family member, a bit like there are supposed to be stages of grief. I’ll Google it later.
‘It’s Alice. It’s come through on the email account I set up for Mum,’ I say. ‘I’ll get her to open it on the computer downstairs.’
‘Don’t you want to vet it first?’ says Luke.
‘Why?’
Luke swings his legs off the bed and plants his feet on the floor as Chloe hangs around his neck. ‘I don’t know. Just in case you have to prepare your Mum for bad news.’
I frown. ‘How do you mean?’
‘Forget it. It doesn’t matter.’
‘No, what did you mean?’
Luke stands up, Chloe still hanging on like some sort of circus act. ‘In case Alice has changed her mind or something.’ He gives a shrug and unhooks Chloe’s arms from his neck. ‘Like I said, forget it. I’m sure everything will be okay.’
I pause while I think about what Luke has said. He may have a point. ‘Okay, I’ll just have a quick look.’
I sit on the bed and tap the email to open it. There’s a paperclip icon indicating an attachment and it takes a bit longer for the message to download. Before I can read what Alice has said, I find myself scrolling down to look at the attachment. It has to be a photograph of her, surely. I’m going to finally see what my sister looks like. I close my eyes for a moment, thinking back to the last time I saw her. Her little face looking out at me from the back of a car window.
I open my eyes, expecting to see a young woman. I’m surprised when two faces appear smiling out at me. They look to be sitting on a sofa. It’s not a selfie as the shot is too long. Maybe taken with a camera on a timer or maybe someone took their photo. They both have the same dark coffee-coloured hair, which has been curled into big, loose waves and one cut slightly shorter than the other. The two young women look to be the same sort of age; early twenties. I zoom in to have a closer look at their faces, their eyes in particular. I’m looking for those beautiful blue eyes which have haunted me all these years. The picture becomes pixelated and I can’t make out their eye colours. I look back at where Alice has signed off and the P.S. underneath her name. I’m the one on the left.
‘Alice,’ I whisper.
‘Which one is Alice?’ says Luke looking over my shoulder.
‘The one on the left.’ Chloe, now deposited on the floor, is occupying herself with the shoes from my cupboard. I smile and lean back into Luke. ‘Do you think Alice looks like me?’
Luke peers closer. ‘It’s hard to say. Maybe? The hair’s the same and possibly the cheekbones too. Who’s the other girl?’
I scan through the letter, skimming across the words. ‘It’s her friend, Martha.’ I go back and read the email properly. ‘Oh, shit.’
‘What’s up?’
‘She wants to come over and she’s going to bring her friend with her.’ I look at Luke. ‘Why would she do that?’
‘Is it a problem?’
‘Well, it would be better if she came alone. But, then again, maybe she’s nervous. Maybe she wants someone there who she knows.’ I press my lips together in that sympathetic way people do when they want to show someone they know how they’re feeling without having to say any words. Usually accompanied by a sorrowful or resigned expression. ‘Suppose I’d better tell Mum.’
Mum cries when I open the email on the computer downstairs and show her the picture. She touches the screen, caressing the image of Alice. ‘My darling Alice,’ she says several times. ‘I can’t wait to hold her for real.’
‘She’s
