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‘He talked about moving on and how some things have to change.’
‘Oh God, you don’t think something’s wrong, do you?’ Valentina said quietly.
Hearing the worry in her sister’s voice, Frankie wished she hadn’t brought it up.
‘No, nothing like that,’ she said, hoping to reassure. ‘Maybe he’s thinking about retiring, or cutting back his hours a bit.’
‘I can’t imagine him easing off on the trattoria for a moment. What would he do?’
‘Maybe he could help out with Canine Cupids too, and I can be the focus of all your existential crises!’
‘Ha-ha,’ Valentina said sarcastically. ‘Sorry, I’ve got to go, I need another wee. Speak later!’ Valentina hung up.
Frankie got out of the van, already hearing the excited barks of Toto the Jack Russell as she headed round to the back door.
* * *
Later that morning, when she found herself driving past the Costello house, Frankie remembered Valentina saying she thought Mrs Costello was back. Turning off the main road, Frankie drove up the winding, tree-lined drive to Ivy Cottage.
Mrs Costello’s old Volvo sat out front. It normally resided in the garage when she was in France.
The charming little stone-built house was well named, as the vine had climbed up the entire front of the cottage, weaving its way attractively around the multi-paned glass windows symmetrically placed along the two squat storeys. Planters filled with bright-red flowers sat either side of the primrose-yellow front door.
Parking up, Frankie then walked round to the back of the house, past more shrubs; the abundance of early winter berries clustered in jewelled bursts against the dark-green leaves.
The back garden of Ivy Cottage was as pretty as the front. The well-maintained lawn was bordered with lavender and rose bushes and gently rolled downward, pulling the eye toward the little burn which crossed the bottom of the grass. Frankie watched as a robin landed on some honeysuckle entwined around a decorative arch.
Frankie went up to the back door and peered in through the glass panel. She could see Toffee’s storm coat hanging on the hook in the utility room and the telltale signs of a food and water bowl on the little mat beneath to indicate the dog was back in the village. There was also a mug and a couple of dishes on the drying rack beside the sink.
Frankie knocked and was instantly met with frantic barking as Toffee ran over.
‘Hiya, Toffee!’ Frankie said as the golden-coloured Cockapoo began turning in happy circles. ‘Is your mummy home? Want to come out with us today?’
Toffee’s bark turned into yowls of happiness.
Frankie knocked again, this time much louder. Although she had keys she would never dream of using them without discussing the walking arrangements first. For a horrible moment, she wondered if Mrs Costello had engaged another dog walker. Surely not. Mrs Costello always said she’d grown up with the Bartoli-Barrs constantly in and out of her house, so much so they felt like her own children.
‘Is your mummy home? Go get her!’ she said to Toffee, who cocked her head to the side and wagged her tail enthusiastically but made no effort to move.
‘Her mummy’s not here at the moment, but would I do? I suppose I’d be her brother,’ a voice said from behind her.
Frankie turned around, looking straight into the eyes, the very blue and familiar eyes, of Jay Costello.
CHAPTER 6
FRANKIE
There was a moment’s pause when neither of them spoke. The silence continued until it became awkward.
‘It’s really good to see you, Frankie,’ Jay finally said, his voice still as husky and soft as she remembered, despite spending years trying to forget.
‘Hi,’ was all she could muster, in what came out in a rather high-pitched squeak. She couldn’t quite manage to say, it’s good to see you too, because she didn’t know if it was. She couldn’t think straight. All she could think of was that Jay Costello was standing in front of her, looking pretty much the same as the last time she’d ever seen him. In person. The magazine articles, television interviews, band tour posters and music videos didn’t count as he’d always looked a little different in those. As the lead singer and guitarist of rock indie band Drive With Care, Jay Costello’s image had been everywhere for the past decade. But whether it was from being airbrushed slightly, or from being overstyled, or wearing stage make-up, he’d never looked quite right; he always looked a more polished, television-ready, slightly off-kilter version of her Jay.
Not that he was ever really hers.
‘Valentina said she’d seen your mum’s car. I wondered if she needed Toffee walked. I always walk her when your mum’s here.’ Straight to business. That was best.
He shook his head. ‘Sorry, not my mum, just me. I’ve been driving her car.’
