And then he walked out through the door and left her there, as tears streamed down her cheeks, wondering how she’d managed to end up so completely, utterly alone.
Rose had barely slept. She’d spent half the night either pacing or sitting at the kitchen table in the dark, replaying over and over in her mind what had happened between them, and then she’d tried to sleep before getting out of bed and packing up all her belongings. She’d found a flight out of Buenos Aires for New York later that day, and as much as she’d have liked to walk the property one last time or go and say goodbye to Benjamin’s family, she had no intention of doing either. It would be easier to slip away without any fuss, without anyone seeing her or questioning why she was turning her back on what had been left for her. Or anyone trying to convince her to stay.
She’d also been waiting, hoping that Benjamin had come to see her, wishing she didn’t have to leave like this; but no matterhow hard she listened out for a knock at the door, none ever came.
Rose checked her watch for the hundredth time, then, seeing that she only had fifteen minutes until her taxi arrived, knew what she had to do. She took out her key ring and slid off the key to the front door of the house, placing it on the table, and then sat down with paper and pen. She’d been trying to compose the letter in her mind all morning, but in the end, she decided to keep it as short as possible.
Benjamin,
I’m sorry. I wish things could have been different.
She picked up the piece of paper and screwed it up into a tight ball, before starting again on a fresh piece.
Benjamin,
The house and grounds are yours for as long as you want to enjoy them. Please advise the family lawyer if your needs change.
Rose
Rose pushed the key onto the letter and stood, taking the screwed-up paper with her and throwing it into the rubbish. There was so much more she could have said, so much more in her heart that she might have said if he was standing in front of her, but he wasn’t, and she wasn’t about to go searching for him. Not after everything that had been said the night before.
She looked around one final time, before closing her eyes, the pain of it all almost too much to bear. First losing her mum, then coming here; trying to hold her head up, trying to protect her heart. And she’d failed at both.
‘I’m sorry, Mum,’ she whispered. ‘I’m sorry, Valentina.’
She wished they could all have met, that she could have discovered Argentina and the Santiago estate with her mum when she was still alive; that she could have heard Valentina’s story from her own mouth. That she could have started a new chapter of her life without feeling like she was just an imposter in someone else’s. Or feeling like a failure.
But none of that was meant to be.
Rose heard the sound of the taxi pulling up outside, the tyres crunching over the gravel, and she wiped her tears away and picked up her bags, rolling her suitcase beside her and opening the door. The hardest part was shutting it behind her, though, and she found that she did it without looking back into the house, not wanting to admit that she might never set foot in there again.
She smiled at the driver when he got out of the car, thanking him for helping her with her case as she followed with her bags. Rose had taken some things with her that had belonged to Valentina, a few photos and a beautiful scarf that she’d found over the back of a chair, feeling a connection to it when Clara had mentioned that it had been one of Valentina’s favourites.
‘That’s all?’ the driver asked.
Rose nodded, but as she opened her handbag to slide her phone inside, she saw the little box she’d carried with her since she’d left London. The wooden box that Valentina had left for her daughter all those years ago.
‘Can you give me one moment?’ she asked, not waiting for a response before running back to the house and opening the door.
Rose took the box out of her bag and removed the horse figurine, staring down at it before placing it on the letter, beside the key. It had never belonged to her, and if it belonged to anyone, it was to Benjamin and his family.
She didn’t give herself time to overthink it, but she did turn around and look back at the house one last time before getting into the taxi. She committed the architecture to memory, and as she did so, she gave herself permission to glance at the stables, too.
Benjamin was standing there, at the entrance, facing her. But as she stood and stared back at him, he remained immobile, and so she turned and got into the taxi, wishing she’d been braver.
Because if she had been, she would have run into his arms for one final embrace, and to tell him that even though it was over, she loved him. That despite the fact that they might not see each other again, she would never forget the time they’d spent together.
And that she was sorry. So painfully, horribly sorry for the way things had ended between them.
But instead, she let the taxi drive her away from the property that should have been her destiny, and from the man she wished she could have loved enough to stay.
23
LONDON, 1939
Valentina felt as if her heart was being torn in half. Her daughter had come into the world with a cry as fierce as a lion, her little fist thrust into the air defiantly as her eyes had slowly come to focus on her mother. And now, ten days later, Valentina already couldn’t imagine a moment without her daughter by her side, tucked into her arms. She fed vigorously as if the world depended upon it, slept fitfully, and spent most of her waking hours gazing at her mother, as Valentina did in return. She wanted to memorise every inch of her face, to never forget the softness of her head and the sweet smell of her breath, the thrust of her little fist in the air or the warmth of her tiny body tucked against hers.
Which was why five days had turned into seven, and seven had turned into fourteen. It was proving impossible to leave her beautiful daughter behind, but thankfully Hope had never questioned her, instead letting her spend every precious moment with her daughter.
