No, she wouldn’t go there, she decided. That was all ancient history and on this beautiful piece of Italian history, she would not regret what she hadn’t done. But at twenty-three, the same age as Trinity, she’d been so innocent, so eager to please. And if she’d been with a boyfriend who had been in any way abusive, would she have had the courage to have left so confidently, so determinedly? Lou wasn’t sure she would have.
They sat in a patch of shade and ate their ice creams, Trinity looking around happily admiring the beautiful architecture, and the fascinating people walking up and down.
It was truly lovely to be there with her. It was almost like having, briefly, another daughter. Lou had missed it. She wished her mother had told her what it was like to have a child leave because Toni had left very determinedly and that must have been hard for Lillian. Being a parent to a young adult was painful. One moment, Emily had been the focus of everything and then suddenly, Emily was gone. Grown up. And what was left?
Someone who could no longer define herself as a mother but was instead a woman whose husband forgot her birthday, a woman whose mother destroyed her birthday, a woman whose career suddenly became a job with added demotion.
That’s what was left when motherhood ended. But Lou was no longer prepared to let herself be defined that way.
Toni’s plan to come here had been a good one, as crazy as it had seemed. It meant Lou was sitting here now in Ortigia peacefully, the sun reaching its zenith, smelling the smells of the Mediterranean and the heat rising from the beautiful stone buildings built thousands of years ago. She could reassess her life. She could meet her birth father and decide what she wanted to do then. For now, she would enjoy what she had. Wasn’t that the secret to happiness, according to all the self-help books she’d read? Enjoy the now and don’t worry about the future because you can’t control it.
Easier said than done.
Emily felt the ping of the message as her phone vibrated.
She was in the college library and phone noises were strictly forbidden but her phone was in the front pocket of her sweatshirt. She pulled her phone out and saw with delight that there were photos from her mum in Sicily.
Wish you were here, Mum had written underneath several photos of a ruined temple. The Temple of Apollo.
Typically, Mum had included a white cat in the foreground, posing against the backdrop of crumbling stone. Her mother loved animals and was forever petting random dogs when they were out and worrying when she saw a skinny animal in case it wasn’t getting fed enough.
Wish I was there too, Emily texted back,but I have too much to do and you need this time with Toni.
Mum had been wildly apologetic when she’d phoned to say that she and Toni were going to Sicily.
‘We’ve connected with this girl, she’s a bit older than you. Her name’s Trinity and she’s possibly running away from someone – could be an abusive ex. I hope you don’t feel left out—’
Emily had stopped her mother there.
‘Mum, it’s OK. I’m not jealous. I’m a big girl now. If Trinity needs help, then she couldn’t be with better people than you and Toni. You’ll take care of her, and I’d back Toni against a jealous ex any day! I just hope he has health insurance.’
They’d both laughed at the thought.
It looks gorgeous, Mum, Emily texted back to her mother now.You and I can go back another time. I love you and I miss you, but I’m happy you’re taking time out for you.
She pressed send and looked back at her laptop to the essay on Constitutional Law. Her brain was still fried after a week of intense work on macroeconomics. Second year was still enjoyable, but it was definitely more pressure than her first year, where people were still finding their feet.
Her stomach rumbled. She had a lot more work to do on this essay but a break and possibly a chocolate bar would help.
She had a plan formulating in her mind. A plan that would fulfil a long-held dream for her mother.
Chapter Sixteen
Toni woke up alone in the bed with no sign of Lou. The sheets were rumpled and the room was dim from the blackout blinds the owners used to stop the early Mediterranean sun from waking holidaymakers. It felt different from her bed at home where Oliver would be slumbering, a mound on the other side of the bed.
At home, she had high-thread-count sheets. Frette. Oliver adored them. So did she – but they’d been mad to spend the money on them.
She fumbled for her phone on the small nightstand beside her and Lou’s bed and saw that it was after ten. She couldn’t remember the last time she had slept that long. Shame clearly made a person tired.
Never had she felt such shame. How could she not haveseen? It was her job to ask people the tough questions and she’d thought she was brilliant at it. She’d had confidence in her abilities as an interviewer. She was a mentor, a consummate professional, capable and successful. She’d always thought she had a very good sense of other people: who was hiding things, who was not, who was comfortable being interviewed, who was deeply uncomfortable and desperately trying to fake both confidence and competence. Yet she’d missed all the signals that her husband was a gambling addict.
Which was worse – him losing all their money, or her having no idea it was happening?
Toni didn’t know. She threw back the bedclothes, pulled on some shorts and stomped downstairs to get some water. She poured some cool water from the fridge, then emptied out the coffee grounds from the elderly red Moka coffee maker, filled it with fresh coffee and water and set it on the stove – tapping her fingers on the countertop as she waited for it to boil, and trying to calm her spiralling thoughts.
Toni still didn’t know how much money was gone because she was terrified of calling Liam, the investment expert, back. What could he say?
You’re broke and you’ll never recover financially, not unless Bill Gates hires you and puts an extra zero on your salary by mistake and nobody notices.
