by Jill Mansell
“Are you sure?” Remembering birth dates had never been her forte.
She looked outraged that he could doubt her. “Of course I’m sure. Matteo’s birthday was New Year’s Eve, that’s why I wouldn’t forget it.”
Chapter 43
Seth’s heart was by now thudding like the blades of a helicopter preparing for takeoff. Grabbing the phone back, he scrolled down to the photograph that had been attached to the bottom of the email. With an unsteady hand, he held it up in front of Christina, who peered intently at the screen then let out a yelp of recognition.
“Oh my God, this is so wild,” she exclaimed. “That’s not him. That’s the other Matteo!”
The other Matteo…
“I remember him,” she went on triumphantly. “I don’t think I ever even heard his surname, but he used to go to all the same clubs as us, so we knew him to chat to. He was one of the Carnaby Street punks, darling, bright-blue hair in a foot-high Mohawk. I mean, he was a lovely boy but I never slept with him.” She wrinkled her nose. “Bit too skinny for me. Poor Mattie, though. It’s sad that he’s died. We’ll still send some flowers, shall we, even though it’s the wrong one?”
Seth couldn’t trust himself to fully comprehend what he was hearing. He’d almost forgotten to breathe. When people discovered that the numbers on their lottery tickets matched the winning ones, how many times did they feel the need to double-check and check again before finally believing they’d won?
Christina was tapping his arm. “Seth? Will you call a florist and organize it? Something big and flashy, lots of red and blue?”
He nodded, looking again at the photograph of Matteo-who-wasn’t-his-biological-father, who had never slept with his mother and therefore whose genes he categorically didn’t share. The photo had been taken decades ago, presumably before the illness had taken hold. He had prominent cheekbones, short dark hair, and a large aquiline nose, but it was those dark eyes that had convinced Seth of the resemblance when Shelley had forwarded the email to him the other day.
Without thinking, he reached for the glass on the table and almost took a gulp of putrid-looking green smoothie before spotting the upturned fly on the foamy surface. Stone dead, which didn’t bode well for any resident tempted to drink the stuff.
“Ha, how funny!” Christina was now chuckling to herself. “Imagine if I’d traveled all that way and turned up at a funeral for the wrong Matteo!”
One last check. It had to be done. Seth said, “So the other one’s surname is Mancini.”
“My Matteo, yes.” She nodded and waved her arms extravagantly around her head. “Long dark hair like a lion. And a beautiful chest.” Reminiscing fondly, she added, “He used to wear black leather trousers too.”
Seth keyed the name into Google and came up with several options so went to Images instead and showed his mother the page of photographs.
“I did have a go at looking him up a few years ago but couldn’t find him… Ooh, now he’s rather gorgeous!” She pointed to a Californian orthopedic surgeon. “But it’s not him, worse luck. Hmm, not him, nor him…eurgh, definitely not that one. Oh…”
“What?” said Seth, because she’d suddenly gone quiet.
“Found him.”
“Really?”
His mother nodded. “Oh yes, this is him. Wow.”
Seth sat back; from this angle, he couldn’t see the screen. “What does wow mean?”
“He has a restaurant in Naples. And a big family. He looks…older.” She sounded put out. Sometimes she still had the ability to astound him.
Having never been remotely interested in learning any details about the man who could well be his biological father, Seth now reached across and angled the phone so they could both see the photo. The family were posing in front of their restaurant, arms around each other’s shoulders as they beamed for the photographer. Two strapping sons, three striking daughters, a curvaceous, dark-haired wife…and Matteo Mancini, the proud father, with thick graying hair swept back from his face and a broad smile that felt instantly, subliminally familiar.
“He’s gone gray and put on a few pounds.” Christina’s lip curled.
Seth clicked on the link beneath the photo, which took him to a website. This in turn led them to a gallery containing more photographs of staff and diners at the cheerfully decorated restaurant. He scrolled through the photos, stopping at an extra-celebratory one featuring a banner with FELICE ANNO NUEVO! written across it and Matteo taking center stage beneath balloons bearing the words BUON COMPLEANNO!
Happy New Year and Happy Birthday. Which was pretty much case closed.
“I mean, I suppose he’s still good-looking,” said Christina, “but he was even better when he had all that wild hair.”
There was a knock at the door and she called out, “Come in,” before belatedly realizing Seth still had the phone in his hand. He dropped it into his jacket pocket and they both turned as the door opened.
“Sorry to disturb you, but I’ve brought tomorrow’s menu choices.” A smilingly serene woman approached them with a sheet of paper. “I can thoroughly recommend the tofu and dandelion stir-fry with wheatgrass and—”
Seth’s phone began to ring and the woman’s smile promptly vanished. “Sorry,” said Seth, not sorry at all.
“We don’t allow phones at this retreat, sir. I think you already know that.”
“I didn’t realize I had it on me.”
“If you hand it to me for safe keeping, you may continue with your visit and collect it from reception when you leave.”
Seth pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. “Thanks, but there’s no need. I’m leaving now anyway.”
* * *
Once out of the grounds of the retreat, he drove for a few miles before pulling over at the side of the road and switching off the ignition.
His head was buzzing with adrenaline, relief, the realization that he’d been given back his life. He felt free and overwhelmingly grateful. The horror and the agony had been lifted, leaving him filled with joy and new appreciation for…well, just about everything.
But especially his family.
And even more especially Lainey.
Oh God, though, how indescribably lucky he was. Now he found himself considering all those less fortunate than himself, who didn’t get the kind of get-out-of-jail-free card he’d just been handed. A great wave of sympathy swept through him; for every two people who underwent the genetic testing, one would receive the news they and their families feared most of all.
Life was cruel, life was unfair—sometimes almost unbearably so. But he knew he’d never forget how he’d felt for the past three weeks. Nor would he ever stop thinking about those affected by such a devastating diagnosis.
He gazed through the windshield at the waving field of corn spread out ahead of him, at the birds flying high in a turquoise sky, and felt his throat begin to tighten. He hadn’t shed so much as a tear for years, not since Tony—his real father—had died, but it could be about to happen now. The overwhelming relief was breaking him. His own life wasn’t in pieces after all.
Shedding a few tears, it turned out, was cathartic. Who knew? Once the pent-up grief was out of his system, he wiped his eyes and checked his watch. Much as he wanted to call Lainey and tell her he needed to see her now, the reason for her coming up here with him was because she was paying a visit to her grandmother.
The thought of calling her—which he mustn’t do, not yet—belatedly reminded him of the phone call that had got him kicked out of the retreat.
Or enabled him to escape.
It had been from Grace, mother of Ned, Stevie, and Bay, and he knew why she’d wanted to speak to him—today was Ned’s eleventh birthday and he’d sent him a box of Star Wars LEGOs.
Time to call her back.
Once the effusive thanks were over, Grace said cheerily, “An
d are you still up there in the Cotswolds, or are you on your way home now?”
Seth was amused. “And how do you know where I am today? Or has Ned fitted a tracker to my car?”
“You aren’t the only one who sent him a present, you know. Lainey had a T-shirt specially made, with Ned’s face in among a load of Star Wars characters on the front, and I don’t think he’s ever going to take it off. I called to thank her and asked if she’d like to come over for tea, to see the boys. That’s when she told me you’d given her a lift up there so she could visit her Granny Ivy.”
“Ah, right. Yes, I did. It wasn’t out of my way.”
“Don’t you just love the sound of that place, Goosebrook? Oops, don’t do that, Stevie! I’d better go,” said Grace over the sound of clattering furniture. “Tell Lainey to be careful and not go falling out of any trees! And thanks again for Ned’s LEGOs.”
The call had ended, but Seth was still staring at the phone in his hand. Finally, he looked at Google Maps and saw that while the journey from Cirencester to the spa retreat was more or less a straight line, Goosebrook was several miles over to the left.
Goosebrook. Surely not…
* * *
He drove into the village forty minutes later, remembering random familiar details as he spotted them: the pub sign swinging in the light breeze outside the Black Swan…the cobalt-blue paint on the propped-open door of the village shop…the huge domed chestnut trees casting pools of shadow across the grass as they stood sentinel on either side of the whitewashed village hall.
How long was it since he’d last been here? His mother and her boyfriend at the time had rented a holiday cottage bordering the village green, and he’d been forced to spend a weekend with them. It must have been twenty years ago, he worked out. He’d been twelve.
Now, he parked at the roadside and climbed out of the car, taking a more detailed look at the buildings lining the main street. The Old Schoolhouse, Bay Cottage, the B and B with a trellis of white roses around the door. Over there on the other side of the green were the grand Cotswold-stone pillars flanking the entrance to Fox Court, and to the right of them stood the church, with its tree-shaded higgledy-piggledy graveyard.
A tall woman in her sixties, with a black cat walking at her heels, was heading along the pavement toward him. Her eyes narrowing at the sight of a stranger, she regarded him with suspicion. “Are you looking for someone?” Clearly checking in case he was a burglar intent on breaking into one of the houses in the vicinity.
Actually, why stop at one? May as well go through the whole lot, see what he could get.
But nothing now could spoil his mood. “I’m fine, thanks,” he said good-naturedly. “Going to have some lunch in the pub. Beautiful cat.”
The woman’s sharp features softened in an instant. “Thank you.” She made her way past him with the cat swishing its tail alongside her, then stopped and turned. “By the way, they do a good chicken pie.”
From her manner, it sounded as if she wasn’t quite used to being friendly but was doing her best.
“Thanks,” said Seth.
* * *
The woman hadn’t been wrong: the homemade chicken pie was excellent. By the time he left the Black Swan, it was half past three. Setting out on foot, he explored the rest of the village, recalling more details of his previous visit along the way. Reaching the outskirts, after crossing the brook and following a narrow path, he came to a field with sheep in it. And yes, there behind a high dry-stone wall at the other end of the field was the cottage he remembered so well.
He could still be wrong, of course, but somehow he sensed he wasn’t. Taking out his phone, he rang Lainey’s number.
“Yes?” She sounded cautious.
“Grace called me. She said your Granny Ivy lives in Goosebrook. Where are you now?”
Silence. Then, “Goosebrook.”
“Why did you let me drop you in Cirencester?”
“I didn’t want to take you out of your way.”
“Idiot.” He smiled into his phone. “Look, I’ll see you there at four thirty. I’ll be waiting on the bench outside the village hall, OK?”
Still cautious, Lainey said, “OK. You sound…different.”
“Do I?”
“Hang on, how do you know there’s a bench outside the village hall?”
“Google Maps. See you there,” said Seth. “Don’t be late.” And he ended the call.
Chapter 44
She was early. It was still only 4:15 when he saw her making her way down the street before crossing the village green and heading toward him. It felt like a good sign.
Reaching the bench, she said, “You were already here when you called me, weren’t you?”
Seth nodded and indicated that she should sit down next to him. “I was.”
“Is your mum OK?”
“She’s fine. Very…detoxed. And how’s Granny Ivy?”
“Brilliant. Ninety years old and probably going to live until she’s two hundred.” Lainey was watching him intently. “You still sound different. And you look different too. Something’s happened. What’s going on?”
Oh, nothing much. Just got my life back, that’s all. He took a deep breath. “It’s about Matteo.”
When he’d finished relaying the whole story, Lainey raked her fingers through her hair, pushing it back from her forehead. “My God, I can’t believe it. Two Matteos. So for the last three weeks you’ve been going through hell. I can’t imagine what that must have felt like. And now…” Her voice trailed away as she searched his face.
“I feel like the luckiest person in the world. I don’t have to worry about it anymore.” And as he held her gaze, Lainey’s eyes filled with tears.
“Sorry,” she said, “but I really need to hug you.”
“Not nearly as much as I want you to hug me.”
He wondered if it would feel awkward, but it didn’t; it was the opposite of awkward. The sensation was intoxicating, everything he could have wished for. He could feel Lainey trembling as she wrapped her arms around him. Inhaling the scent of her skin, her hair, he closed his eyes and held her tight, committing every tiny detail to memory. The urge to find her mouth with his own was intense, almost overwhelming, but he mustn’t do it, not yet, not quite yet. There were small children racing around the village green and a group of teenagers stretched out on the grass, chatting and listening to music. The first time had to be perfect, and whistles and catcalls from easily amused teenagers wouldn’t help.
He drew back finally, sensing that Lainey was as reluctant as he was to let go. Which was good.
She was still trembling too.
“When did you find out about the disease?” There was a catch in her voice. “I mean, when exactly?”
“The day after Dawn saw us on the beach.” He knew she was putting two and two together. Just when the next stage of their relationship had seemed inevitable, his world had come crashing down and for both their sakes he’d had to step away.
“Right.” She nodded slowly. “I thought it was me, getting it wrong. Or I thought I’d done something wrong.”
There was no point in pretending otherwise; they both knew what had been on the verge of happening between them.
“Neither of those,” said Seth.
“I’m glad to hear it.” She smiled and ran an index finger lightly over the back of his hand.
“There is one thing, though. Something I do need to ask you.”
“Go on.”
“When you were six or seven, did you have one of those toys where you pull a cord and the fairy flies up into the air?”
Confused, Lainey said, “I did, but…that’s not the kind of question I thought you were going to ask.”
“This fairy of yours. Was it green and pink?”
“Yes…” She hesitated, and her eyes slowly widen
ed in disbelief. “Oh no, you can’t be…no…”
“You’d flown the fairy out of your bedroom window, and it got caught in the branches of the tree,” Seth reminded her.
“But…but it can’t have been you!”
“And you were so desperate to get it back, you climbed out of the window into the tree. Then found out you were stuck and couldn’t get down or back inside.”
Her eyes were like saucers now. “There was a boy in the field behind the house, and he jumped over the wall…”
“Good-looking boy, age twelve,” Seth prompted. “And it was a pretty high dry-stone wall.”
“He rescued me,” whispered Lainey. “He climbed the tree, helped me down…”
“And he rescued the flying fairy, don’t forget that. Total hero.”
“Then he called me an idiot.”
Seth raised an eyebrow. “Maybe he was right. If he hadn’t spotted you, you could have broken your neck.”
“Was it really you?”
“As soon as Grace mentioned Goosebrook, I remembered the name of the place. I came here with Mum and one of her boyfriends for a weekend getaway. Then Grace said on the phone to tell you not to go falling out of any trees…and that was it. I knew.”
“I always remembered you,” Lainey said, marveling. “It was like my brain took a picture of your face. I can see you now, helping me down the tree, with the sun behind you, shining through the branches…and your eyes…and the way you looked at me when you called me an idiot. Then you gave me back my fairy, climbed over the wall at the end of the garden, and disappeared.”
Seth nodded. “We left the next day, went back to London.”
“I was terrified you might turn up again and tell Granny Ivy what I’d done. She still doesn’t know to this day.”
“Promise me you’ll never climb out of a bedroom window again.”
“I won’t.” Playfully she added, “Not unless you’re there to catch me.”
“Try not to do it anyway.”
“I’ve just remembered—the first day we met you at Menhenick House, I felt as if I knew you from somewhere.” Lainey shook her head. “And I did. It was here. It was you all along. Wow.”