Tomorrow can’t come soon enough.
18
GENEVA, SEPTEMBER 1951
‘Delphine! Signora Delphine!’
Delphine woke to someone frantically calling her name. Bleary-eyed, she rose from bed and went to the door. She felt as if she’d only just fallen asleep, and a cursory glance at her wristwatch in the dim light told her that she was correct.
‘What is it?’ she asked, as she pulled open the door. ‘Is it one of the children?’Did I sleep through Tommaso calling out, in the throes of one of his nightmares?
‘There’s been an accident.’
When she saw Martina standing there, her hair loose about her shoulders and in her nightdress, she knew that something was horribly wrong. What had roused Martina from her slumber?
‘What type of accident?’ Delphine asked, wrapping her arms about herself as she stared back at Martina. ‘The children are safe, are they not?’
Martina walked past her and shut the door, taking Delphine’s hand and walking her back to the bed. Delphine knew it was terrible news when she saw the tears in her confidante’s eyes, when she pulled her down to sit with her.
‘Martina, you’re scaring me,’ Delphine said, her breath catching as they whispered in the near darkness to one another. ‘Tell me what’s happened. What type of accident?’
‘It’s Signor Florian,’ Martina whispered. ‘He was involved in a car accident.’
Delphine’s body went cold and she froze. No, not Florian. It couldn’t be Florian. Not her darling Florian. ‘A car accident? How badly was his vehicle damaged? Was Florian hurt at all?’ It was so unlike him to be involved in something like that, when he was such a confident driver. There must have been a mistake. Florian would be home by now, asleep in his bed. Wouldn’t he?
‘Signora, Florian, he was, he’s?—’
‘Stop.’ Delphine gasped as she saw the pain etched into Martina’s face. ‘Please, that’s enough.’
Martina began to cry; big, fat tears slipped down her cheeks, making it impossible for Delphine to look away, making it impossible for her not to know in her heart what had happened.Not Florian. Please, God, not my Florian.
‘Signor Florian, he’s gone,’ Martina eventually whispered.
‘No,’ Delphine said, shaking her head. ‘No, that can’t be. We just spent the evening together, he brought me home, he was fine, he was alive, he?—’
Martina blinked back at her, her face falling as Delphine’s eyes met hers, as she saw the pain in the other woman’s gaze. She was the only other person in the world who knew the truth about their relationship, the only person who could possibly imagine the depths of her pain.
‘How?’ she eventually whispered, as her body froze, as she asked the question she didn’t truly want the answer to, as she tried to fight the words she was hearing.
‘I don’t know. All I know is that the police have confirmed that it was him, and that there was another car involved.’
Delphine’s body began to shudder then, every part of her trembling as she tried to process what she was hearing, news that was impossible to absorb.He can’t be gone. I was only just in his arms, looking into his eyes, feeling his warm breath against my neck as he held me and whispered in my ear.
‘You’re certain he’s…’ She couldn’t even bring herself to say the word.
‘I’m certain. One of the maids came home with the news, she came across the scene on her way home. The lights from the ambulance were still flashing.’
Delphine couldn’t believe it. Florian couldn’t have left this world. They’d just had dinner together, she’d told him her news, they’d made plans for the future. Her generous, darling Florian simply could not have died, and not in a car accident.
‘There must have been a mistake,’ she said, standing up and beginning to pace. ‘The girl must have it wrong. Had she been drinking? How would she have recognised his car?’
When Martina opened her arms, it hit Delphine like a punch to her stomach. She fell forward, a sob lurching from deep inside her as she let herself be held, as her world came crashing down around her. She’d gone to sleep dreaming of their wedding, imagining what it would be like to spend the rest of her life with Florian, to be adored by her husband rather than forgotten.
‘It cannot be true,’ she whispered, as Martina rocked her and rubbed her back in big circles, in the same way she would have comforted her Isabella. ‘I cannot believe it.’
‘Delphine, there will be time to grieve, but you need to think whether there’s anything at his house that could be found. Any personal effects that you might have left there, that could be discovered to be yours. If your husband found out…’
She blinked, wiping away her tears as she sat up straighter. Martina was right; she did need to think about that. Giovanni had been very clear about how careful they were to be, howmindful of being discreet. If there was anything that was obviously hers at Florian’s house, it could be found by his family. Or even the police.
