Immi said.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes. Actually, Stephen’s probably done us both a favour. When Andie got married, I realised that he doesn’t look at me the way Cleve looks at Andie, and I don’t look at him the way Andie looks at Cleve. I thought maybe I was just having cold feet, but...’
‘If it isn’t right, it isn’t right.’
But Immi could hear the worry in her mother’s voice. ‘Mum, I’m eating,’ she said gently. ‘I promise, I’m not going to start starving myself. I’m older now and much, much wiser. Do you want me to video myself eating every meal and send you the evidence?’
‘Yes,’ Julie said. ‘Well, obviously that’d be a bit excessive. But I’m your mother. I wouldn’t be human if I didn’t worry about you. I let you down last time.’
‘No, you didn’t. I was a teenager, and teenagers are very good at hiding things we don’t want our parents to know. Honestly. I’m eight years older than I was back then, and the counselling really sorted me out. My head’s in a good place. Yes, I’m angry and hurt, and I might tape Stephen’s picture on a punchbag at the gym and pound it to shreds, but that’s as far as it’ll go. Don’t worry. I really want you and Dad to finish your trip.’
‘I should be home, helping you cancel all the wedding stuff.’
‘It’s fine. I have lists. Andie’s already offered to help. It’ll be fine,’ Immi soothed.
‘But you’ll ring me if you need me?’
‘I’ll ring you,’ Immi promised. ‘But you and Dad have been looking forward to India. Just go to all the places and take a gazillion photos to show me when you get home. Love you, Mum.’
‘Love you, too,’ Julie said.
Immi had just finished packing the last of Stephen’s stuff into a box when her phone beeped again. This time it was Portia.
OMG. When did this happen? Want me to come home and scalp him?
Immi laughed and texted back,
Tonight. I’m fine. Going to tape his pic to punchbag at gym tomorrow. You OK?
Yes.
Good.
Need a hand with cancelling stuff?
No, I’ve got it. But thanks.
Right at that moment, Immi really missed her sisters and she would’ve liked nothing better than to spend an evening with the four of them curled up by the fire with mugs of hot chocolate and a plate of brownies, talking about nothing in particular. But her sisters all had busy lives. And she wasn’t going to drag everyone back to Cambridge just because her own life was taking a bit of a wobble.
See you soon, yes?
Laters, Portia texted back.
So that was the first hurdle dealt with, Immi thought. Now she needed to put her list together of people she needed to call to cancel the ceremony, the reception, the dresses and the flowers, the photographer... And she might just take her little sister up on her offer of a bolt hole in a month’s time. Facing everyone this week would be tough enough, but the week when she was supposed to have been married? That was the week she’d rather be as far away from here as possible.
And in the meantime she had work to do.
A month later
IMMI PAID THE taxi driver, thanked him and collected her bags from the back of the car.
The Villa Rosa loomed before her in all its pink faded glory.
The last time she’d come here to L’Isola dei Fiori had been for Andie’s wedding. When she’d still been engaged to Stephen...while he’d been seeing someone else behind her back.
She shook herself. Enough of the pity party. It was bad enough that she was behaving like the Runaway Bride—actually running away from things on the week she should’ve been getting married. But she really couldn’t bear to be in Cambridge facing everyone’s pity right now; plus her father was back at the helm of Marlowe Aviation, so it wasn’t as if she was letting him down. And she really needed time away from the whole situation to decide what she really wanted from life.
Thank God Posy’s godmother Sofia had left her this place. It had been a gift to Sofia years ago by her besotted lover Ludano, the King of L’Isola dei Fiori; and Sofia had bequeathed it to her goddaughter, the youngest Marlowe girl.
OK, so the house needed some work doing. A lot of work, Immi amended, given that the stucco was faded and there were even weeds growing out of a crack in the wall. But it had been a bolt hole that all of Posy’s sisters had needed this spring and summer. Andie, giving her time to come to terms with a life-changing event. Portia, when her career was teetering on the brink. And now Immi herself, giving her space to decide what she was going to do with her life now her marriage wasn’t happening.
Best of all, the garden here had run pretty much wild. Which meant that Immi could spend her days doing what she loved second-best in the whole world—working in a garden—and it would make her so physically tired that she wouldn’t be able to brood about the might-have-beens. She could just concentrate on the plants and let a few ideas bubble in her subconscious.
The keys were right where Posy said they’d be, underneath a flowerpot in the back garden, and she let herself in.
The house was clean—as Immi had expected, given that her older sister Portia had been staying here—and there had definitely been some work done: the cracked glass panels in the double-height conservatory had been replaced, meaning that the room was pretty much watertight again. Several other walls had been replastered, though not painted, and the once-gorgeous painted drawing room still had a crack running through the fresco; it had been repaired, but nobody had touched up the paint.
She hauled her bags into the kitchen. Just as she remembered from the weekend of the wedding, the room was large and comfortable, and she thought she could probably use it as her base. The oven was ancient but in working order, as was the fridge. The kettle sitting on the worktop was the kind you had to boil on top of the stove, rather than the electric kind with a light that switched off when the water had boiled, but again it was workable; the pans, although worn and not the non-stick kind she was used to, were serviceable enough. The place felt as if it had been stuck in the early nineteen-seventies, but it had a certain charm.
There was a note propped against the kettle; she picked it up and read it.
Posy said you were coming. Have put milk in fridge and bread in the cupboard. We’re in the white cottage down the lane if you need anything.
Matt Stark
Matt.
Immi remembered that almost-kiss at the wedding and caught her breath. Back then, she hadn’t been free to act on that unexpected and unfair surge of desire. Now she was. Though right now she wasn’t in a place where she wanted to get involved with anyone. Just let it go and chalk
