by Jill Mansell
“Sure am. How did it go with the guy at your friend’s party?”
“He offered me half-price cocaine. And no, that isn’t a good thing.” Majella grimaced. “He was repulsive.”
“Well, that’s a good thing.” Dan smiled for the first time.
“I’m sorry, I’m still trying to work this out. Did you know I was going to be here?”
He shook his head. “I may have casually mentioned you once or twice to Sara. Or maybe three or four times,” he amended, his tone rueful. “Yesterday she said why didn’t we come down to Cornwall and have a day out in St. Carys, because we hadn’t been here for years, and I was happy to do that. Secretly I was hoping we might bump into you, because…well, I suppose because I wanted to see you again.”
“So your wife…ex-wife, she arranged this? With Lainey?” Majella was still trying to make sense of the situation.
“When I dropped you off last time, I spotted the name of the house. I must have mentioned it to Sara. Might even have pointed it out to her on Google Earth. You know, just in a casual way.”
If he could be honest, so could she. Majella heard herself say, “I was planning to go to Bude next June, to see if I could accidentally bump into you again.”
“Really?”
She blushed; now she sounded like a complete stalker. “This way’s much better, though.”
“I agree. Quicker too. You’re looking great, by the way.” Dan indicated her turquoise sundress, her hair and face. “A bit different from last time. Not that you didn’t look great then…eurgh, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I’m wearing makeup and clean clothes.” Majella grinned. “And I don’t have a giant spider in my hair. I hope.”
“Your eyebrows are different too. Symmetrical.”
“I just thought I’d try them that way for a change.” She nodded at his bottle-green polo shirt. “No kittens.”
His eyes danced. “It’s a miracle we even recognized each other.”
Paddy came over to see what Majella wanted to drink, and they ordered more coffee. As Dan carried on figuring out how the two of them had been set up, she found herself beginning to relax at last. A warm glow of happiness was spreading through her body. Against the odds, they’d found each other again, and it felt every bit as natural and thrilling and perfect as she’d hoped it would during her daydreams about something like this happening. It just seemed so right.
“You knew where I lived, so you could have driven down here to see me at any time,” said Majella, once Dan had worked out that Sara had come down to St. Carys and met Lainey.
“But I wouldn’t have been brave enough to do that; it would’ve felt too presumptuous. I didn’t know if you were with that other guy or if you’d even be interested in me. You might have laughed in my face. If that had happened, I’d never have had the nerve to look at another woman again, let alone ask her out.”
A flicker of a smile lifted the corners of his mouth, and Majella had to force herself not to say, Maybe you won’t need to. You’ve got me now.
Because it might be what she was thinking and hoping, but it wouldn’t do to scare him off completely. Instead she said, “I wouldn’t have laughed.”
“Well, that’s reassuring. But I was too scared to take the risk.”
He had a beautiful upper lip. Majella stirred her coffee, then rested her right hand palm down on the table. She watched as Dan did the same with his left hand, his fingertips a couple of centimeters from hers. Crazy though it was, her stomach flipped with anticipation, because other than lifting the spider from her hair, there had been zero physical contact between the two of them.
No contact whatsoever.
Sometimes you had to force yourself, didn’t you, to take the risk.
Majella gave her fingers a tiny experimental wiggle and moved them a couple of millimeters closer to Dan’s.
He watched them, then looked up at her and edged his own fingers fractionally toward hers.
Now they were both smiling. Thanks to Sara having made the first move, they could relax and enjoy what was happening. Together they slid their hands forward until their fingertips touched.
And zinggg, there it was, and just like that, all the bad dates of the past few weeks were canceled out. This moment, this perfect moment, was all that mattered—Majella jumped out of her skin as her phone burst into life, playing Sir Mix-a-Lot’s “I Like Big Butts” song at maximum volume. Just what you needed at a moment like this. Scrabbling in her bag to make it stop, she said, “Sorry, my eleven-year-old changed my ringtone. It’s his favorite song… Oh, it’s a text from Lainey.” She shielded the screen from the overhead sun and read aloud, “‘This is your emergency get-out option. If you’re hating every minute, text me and I’ll come and rescue you. If you’re happy, give us a wave—we’re down on Mariscombe Beach.’”
Dan, opposite her, slanted his eyebrows. “Which is it going to be? The suspense is killing me.”
Together they rose to their feet and made their way across to the left-hand section of the terrace, from where they could gaze over the beach. And there they were, Lainey and Sara with the two girls, all waving madly up at them.
As Majella and Dan waved back, Dan slid his free arm around her waist and Majella felt her heart swell with joy, because it felt even more wonderful than just touching fingertips.
He said, “Sara’s going to be so smug about this,” as his daughters jumped up and down on the sand.
“So’s Lainey.”
And just at that moment, another text arrived: What did I tell you? Sorry, couldn’t resist!
Chapter 42
The atmosphere at Menhenick House was mixed, to say the least. Lainey was thrilled for Majella; since meeting Dan on Saturday, she’d been fizzing with happiness. But as counterbalance there was Seth, back from Bristol and acting as if everything were fine, although clearly everything wasn’t. Furthermore, the connection between Seth and herself had been abruptly turned off like a switch in a fuse box.
Which was why, at breakfast on Tuesday morning, she really wished Kit weren’t trying so hard to be helpful.
“I’m fine,” she insisted. It was her day off, and she was heading up to the Cotswolds to visit her grandmother. “Honestly, I don’t mind catching the train.”
“Trainzzz, plural,” Kit emphasized. “It’s going to take how many hours to get there?” He had to have one of the cars for the school runs, and Majella needed the other for work. Having heard that Seth would be driving up past Cirencester to visit his mother at her spa, Kit said, “But Lainey’s gran isn’t far from there. You could drop her on the way and pick her up afterward. Doesn’t that make more sense?”
And once he’d appealed to Seth, who was practically forced to agree to take her, Lainey found herself, in turn, forced to accept. Even though it was painfully obvious that this was the last thing either of them wanted to happen.
The journey from Cornwall to Cirencester was blissfully free of traffic holdups but still awkward. His manner distant, Seth explained briefly that Matteo had died in Italy and he needed to tell his mother in person, hence today’s trip. He then inquired politely about Lainey’s Granny Ivy and, equally politely, Lainey explained that she liked to go and visit her at least a couple of times a year.
For the rest of the trip she plugged in earbuds, closed her eyes, and pretended to be asleep. Which wasn’t easy when you were sitting next to someone whose physical presence made you quiver, for whom you’d had such high hopes and who had decided for whatever reason that he was no longer remotely interested in you.
“Anywhere here’s fine,” she said when they reached Market Place, in the center of Cirencester.
“Are you sure?” Seth pulled over to drop her off. “Right, it’s one o’clock. I’ll be back at four thirty if that’s OK with you. Any problems, give me a call.”
It
was as if he could hardly bear to look at her. Lainey unfastened her seat belt. “That’s fine. I’ll wait for you here. Thanks for the lift.”
Seth nodded, knuckles gleaming white as he gripped the steering wheel. “No worries. Have a good time.”
“You too. Sorry.” She winced, because he was on his way to give his mother tragic news and a good time was highly unlikely for either of them. “I hope it isn’t too difficult.”
Another brusque nod; he was gazing directly ahead, not so much as glancing in her direction. “Thanks. See you later.”
As soon as he’d driven off up the road and disappeared from view, Lainey hitched the strap of her bag over her shoulder and made her way across to the taxi office on the other side of the road.
* * *
As Seth drove away from Cirencester, the sudden absence of Lainey in the car hit him like a physical force every bit as intense as the agony he’d endured traveling up here from St. Carys with her at his side.
Carrying on a cheerful, easy conversation with her as if nothing had changed in his life simply hadn’t been possible. He was exhausted, sleep-deprived, and filled with a sensation of perpetual dread as to what the future might hold. His feelings toward her hadn’t changed, but he could no longer allow himself to act upon them. If you loved someone, how could you risk causing them years, decades even, of untold pain and anguish?
And not just Lainey either. There was also the rest of the family to consider.
They would be devastated too.
As he continued to drive along on autopilot, he ran through the options available to him for what felt like the millionth time. First, undergo the DNA test that would confirm to him that he was Matteo’s son. Next, make an appointment with a geneticist and begin the long, arduous process of getting tested to see if he would develop the disease—and there was a fifty-fifty chance that he would. Nor was it a simple, straightforward process; the rules stated that many months of careful professional counseling were required before the testing could even be carried out.
Which meant the impermeable block of ice currently lodged in his chest was going to remain there for a good few months yet. And after that? Well, either all would be well and life could return to normal…
Or not.
He took a deep breath and buzzed down his window, because the faint scent of Lainey’s perfume still lingered in the car, bringing back memories of being with her on the beach, deliberately delaying the moment when he would make that first move from which there could be no going back.
So much for the best-laid plans and thinking that the future couldn’t be more perfect…
* * *
The spa retreat was situated in the depths of the countryside between Lechlade and Fairford. He’d looked it up online last night, and it had sounded exactly as expected: an idyllic getaway from the pressures of the outside world, enabling you to relax, expand your awareness, find your center, and nurture your soul.
Claptrap, basically, and staggeringly expensive claptrap at that, but the kind his mother was keen on. After months of drinking, partying, and jet-setting around the holiday hot spots of the world, she liked to atone by devoting herself to a restorative fortnight of lettuce, mineral wraps, yoga, meditation, aura cleansing, and an awful lot of obnoxiously green smoothies.
Apparently it did wonders for one’s spiritual well-being. Seth, who would rather swallow razor blades, was pretty sure it wouldn’t do it for him.
Pausing at the imposing stone-pillared entrance to the luxury retreat, he took a phone out of the glove compartment and slid it into his shirt pocket, out of sight beneath his jacket.
“Darling, what a lovely surprise!” Christina greeted him at the entrance to her huge, high-ceilinged suite on the third floor. In keeping with her surroundings, she was wearing layers of ivory linen, soft and floaty. Her blond hair was slicked back from her face, which was unmade-up and glowing with health. “Mind my skin. I’ve just had an oil treatment and it has flecks of gold leaf in it. What are you doing here?”
“I was in the area.” Seth landed a tentative kiss on one shimmering cheekbone. “Thought I’d call in and see how you’re getting on.”
“Well, it’s completely ghastly, of course, no alcohol and nothing anyone in their right mind would ever choose to eat, but that’s the whole point. The place is stunning, though. Some of the people are a bit dreary, going on and on about the wonders of spirulina like they’ve got shares in the stuff…oh, but there’s a gorgeous chap I’ve got my eye on. So that helps!”
There was always some new gorgeous chap or other in Christina’s life. Seth indicated the table and chairs next to the open sash window. “Shall we sit down?”
“Of course! I can’t offer you anything exciting to drink, but we’ve got plenty of this stuff.” She opened the mini fridge and held up a jug of what looked like pureed Savoy cabbage. “It has twenty-seven different vitamins in it!”
“No thanks.” He briefly debated telling her there weren’t twenty-seven different vitamins.
“And eighty-three enzymes and micronutrients, apparently. We had an hour-long lecture about it.” She nodded vigorously and grabbed two clean glasses. “Try some. You might be surprised. It gives you a whole-body boost!”
Once they were sitting down with the untouched smoothies in front of them, Seth said, “Mum, Shelley was wondering where you were. She was trying to get in touch.”
“Well, that’s not my fault. I told you,” said Christina, “they don’t let us have our phones in here. Did you know, every time you go on social media, your brain is bombarded with literally trillions of negative electrical thingummies? I had no idea.”
“I don’t think that’s quite right.” Seth shook his head.
“It is, though! This psychotherapist guy called Zebedee gave us a talk about it yesterday. He knows everything there is to know about negative electricity.”
“Mum, Shelley couldn’t get hold of you, so she called me.”
“Oh for heaven’s sake, is this about the liposuction? She wants me to go along with her so we can have our legs done at the same time, but the thing is, I don’t need lipo on my legs.”
“It isn’t about that.” Seth waited until he had his mother’s attention. “It’s Matteo. Shelley had another text from his sister. I’m sorry,” he said gently. “Matteo died.”
“Oh.” Christina sat back, silver bangles clinking as her hand fluttered to her mouth. “Oh, right. Well, that’s sad. Poor Matteo.”
“Yes.” Seth exhaled.
“How about you? Are you…OK?”
He nodded. “I’m OK.”
A tear trickled down her tanned, shimmering cheek, and she wiped it away with the back of her hand. “We knew it was going to happen. I can’t believe I’m this upset. But he was a lovely boy. Always fun to be with. And such beautiful eyes.” She raised her gaze, and Seth knew she was comparing his eyes with Matteo’s.
“It’s a private funeral,” he explained. “Family only. But if you want, you can send flowers. I mean, I could send them on your behalf.”
“Yes, darling, that’s a nice idea. I’d definitely like to do that. Where’s the funeral being held?”
“Santa Maria Rezzonico.” Seth reached into his jacket pocket and took out his mobile.
Christina’s eyes widened. “Oh my God! How did they not take that off you?”
“They asked me to hand my phone over at reception, so I gave them my old one.” He switched on the phone and found what he was looking for. “Here you go. Shelley forwarded the email from Matteo’s sister so we’d have all the details.”
He passed his mother the phone, displaying the photo of the death notice in an Italian newspaper, and gazed out of the window at the tranquil rose garden below while she read it. Beyond the rose garden, in a far corner of the grounds, a tai chi class was in progress. Over to the right, people were
sitting cross-legged in a circle, presumably meditating. In the distance, a tiny plume of gray-blue smoke drifted up from a clump of bushes, indicating that some desperate soul was hiding behind them having a forbidden cigarette.
Glancing back at his mother, Seth saw that she was bent over the phone, texting at lightning speed. “Mum, what are you doing?” He whisked it from her grasp in case she was messaging something hideously inappropriate to Matteo’s sister, then checked the screen and shook his head in despair. “Facebook? Are you serious?”
“I’m sorry. I just couldn’t help myself. It’s hard going cold turkey. OK, fine.” Christina heaved a long-suffering sigh. “You can delete it.”
The message was to one of her female friends, complaining that the retreat didn’t serve wine with dinner and the nearest shop was miles away, which meant she hadn’t even been able to sneak out to buy chips and chocolate.
Clearly not that devastated about Matteo then.
Seth deleted what she’d typed and returned to the email from Matteo’s sister. This time he angled the screen so Christina could see it, but made sure he held on to the phone.
She leaned closer, reading for several seconds in silence. Seth waved aside a bluebottle that had just flown in through the open sash window and landed on the table. The fly darted around ninja style before alighting on the rim of his smoothie glass, which gave him an even better excuse not to try it.
“This says Matteo Romano.” His mother looked up at him, puzzled. “Who’s that?”
“It’s him,” said Seth.
Christina’s hoop earrings jangled. “Well, that’s not right. My Matteo was Matteo Mancini.”
Seth blinked. “What? But Shelley said it was him. Matteo with the hair.”
“Yes, he had hair! Long hair, loads of it, like a rock star!”
Inside his chest, Seth’s heart rate began to speed up, because this wasn’t making any sense. “But his sister sent the email. She knows who her own brother is.”
“Well, this is just weird. It’s definitely not his surname.” Christina pointed at the death notice on the screen. “And that isn’t his date of birth either.”