The Mermaid Garden (64 page)

table by the window and ordered scones and tea. Jake was delighted

to see her tuck into the cream and jam with healthy abandon. “I like a

woman who’s not afraid to enjoy her food,” he said.

“Oh, I couldn’t deny myself this,” she enthused, licking a creamy

finger.

“You look very good on it, I must say,” he added, admiring her full

bosom as it strained against the stretchy fabric of her dress. “So, why’s a beautiful girl like you not married?”

She looked down at her ringless finger and sighed. “I’m divorced, ac-

tually, yet to find the right man. I’m an old-fashioned girl at heart. You see, I believe in Big Love—the kind of love that sweeps you away, like

in those romantic novels. There’s no point compromising. I’d rather be

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alone than with a man I don’t love.” She grinned as she thought of

Clementine and what she’d say if she could hear her now. “I want the

fairy tale,” she added firmly. “And nothing less.”

Grey motored the little fishing boat into the secluded bay. Seagulls

dropped out of the sky to swim beside it, hoping to share the spoils of the picnic Marina had prepared. The water was calm, the sky cloudy

but for patches of bright blue that gave them the occasional, fleeting

glimpse of heaven. The wind was autumnal, and Marina pulled her coat

around her shoulders and shivered, hugging Biscuit closer to her body

to keep warm.

Grey steered the boat onto the sand and switched off the engine.

He leapt out and pulled it farther up the beach, making sure that it

wouldn’t slip back into the sea. Marina handed him the rugs and the

picnic basket, and laughed as Biscuit jumped over the stern and began

to sniff the rocks excitedly. Grey gave Marina his hand and helped her

down. “So, this is it,” he said proudly. “The place I’ve dreamed of bringing you.”

“It’s lovely,” she enthused, taking a blanket and shaking it out onto

the sand.

“It doesn’t look like anyone ever comes down here.”

“Then it will be our secret place.”

“I like the sound of that.” He sat down beside the basket. “What’s

in here?”

“All your favorite things,” she replied, joining him on the blanket.

“Ah, bread, pâté, smoked salmon, cheese, and chocolate mousse.” He

laughed. “Darling, you think of everything.”

“Most importantly, the wine.” Snug in a cooler was a chilled bottle of

Sauvignon Blanc. Grey pulled out the glasses and poured the wine. He

raised his glass. “To absent friends,” he said meaningfully.

“To absent friends.” She took a sip. “I miss them, but in a happy way.”

“They sound like they’re having a wonderful time traveling around

South America.”

“That’s the great thing about e-mail. In my day we had only letters,

and they took ages to arrive.”

“You never told me you still have all the love letters I wrote you.”

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“I keep everything. I can’t help it. It’s in my nature to hold onto all the evidence of my life.” She grinned at him wistfully. “Probably because I’m always a little scared of losing it.”

“Clementine has a beautiful diamond engagement ring, thanks to

your magpie instincts.”

“It was strange seeing those pieces of jewelry again. They had meant

so much to me at the time. Now they are just pieces of jewelry.”

“But Clemmie will imbue them with her own associations, and they

will be special to her in the same way that they were once so special

to you.”

She took his hand. “Grey, darling, you’ve been wonderfully under-

standing through all of this.”

“Don’t forget how many years I waited for you to open up.”

“Patience, then, is your most admirable quality.”

“I’d have waited forever if I’d had to. But you know, it would have

been so much easier if you had told me at the start. I’d never have

judged you.”

“I know. But it was so raw, it was unspeakable. Now I can talk openly

about my son.” She smiled contentedly and took a deep, satisfied breath.

“My son—the words are very sweet on my tongue.”

“Who’d have thought, Rafa and Clementine? Your son and my

daughter.”

“I’m going to have to suffer your ex at the wedding in May.”

“She’s going to have to suffer the wedding being held at the Pol-

zanze; I think that’s worse.”

“And I’m going to meet Maria Carmela.” She trembled with excite-

ment. “She’s going to bring photos of Rafa when he was growing up.

How lucky that he fell into such a nice nest. I owe Father Ascanio

so much, and Zazzetta, who I’d always believed to be the bad guy.”

She took another sip of wine. “You know, my life has been so rich be-

cause I have lived twice. If it wasn’t for that one terrible twist of fate, I wouldn’t have met you, Clemmie, and Jake—or Biscuit,” she added as

the dog lay down on the rug and began to sniff the basket.

“Who’s to say what sort of people we’d be if we had never met?”

“That’s a very deep question.”

“Isn’t it good then that we have the whole afternoon to discuss it?”

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* * *

When they returned to the Polzanze, it was already getting dark. The

days were shorter now, the sunlight weaker, the grass strewn with crispy brown leaves and prickly conkers. Only the pigeons cooed on the rooftops as if it were still summer.

Marina gazed upon the house she loved so dearly and thought of

Dante, who had made it all possible; Dante, who was once again part of

her life. She could now remember it all with pleasure, and as she did so, memories buried deep beneath the rubble surfaced again like flowers,

finding their way through the debris into the light where she feasted

her eyes on them nostalgically.

There was only one beautiful rose that came up through the wreck-

age, thick with thorns. It gave her pain to look on it, so she ignored

it, even though it grew bigger and more alluring with each day that

passed. Until one wintry afternoon in December she strode into the

hall to find Jennifer on the telephone.

“Ah, here she is,” she said, making a face at Marina. “It’s for you.” She held out the receiver.

“Who is it?”

Jennifer shrugged. “I don’t know. She says she’s an old friend of

yours. Her name is Costanza.”

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Epilogue

Rafa and Clementine wandered around the gardens of La Mag-

dalena. It had been only two months since they had moved in,

and yet they already felt as if they had lived there all their lives. Maria Carmela had come for the summer, settling herself in the little mermaid garden to read on the bench where Violetta had liked to sit, and

Dante’s daughters visited often with their husbands and children, fill-

ing the pool once again with laughter. They had left Biscuit at the Polzanze with Marina, but La Magdalena was full of stray dogs and cats

Dante had rescued, and Rafa and Clementine loved them all.

The sun hung low in the west, turning the sky a translucent pink and

throwing inky green shadows across the grass. Crickets and roosting

birds squabbled noisily as they positioned themselves for the night. The scents of pine and eucalyptus hung thickly in the humid air, and Clementine breathed it in contentedly, savoring the smells of the foreign

land she had adopted. It wasn’t long before they came across the part

in the boundary wall where the stones had fallen away, leaving it low

enough to scale.

“I wonder why Dante doesn’t want this repaired,” said Rafa, strid-

ing forwards. He picked up a loose stone, tossed it into the air, and

caught it.

“It’s obviously special to him. Did you notice the look on his face

when he told us we could do whatever we liked to the house and gar-

dens, but that this wall has to remain exactly as it is?”

“I would guess it has something to do with Floriana,” said Rafa. “But

somehow I don’t feel we can ask.”

Clementine reached the wall and looked through the gap. Beyond,

the hills of Tuscany undulated softly in the orange light, and she could see the red rooftops of Herba in the distance and the tower of the

church rising above them. Suddenly, she felt the urge to climb to the

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top and sit there awhile. It was peaceful with the breeze in her hair and the sun warming her skin.

“Come and join me,” she said as she settled on the stones. “It’s lovely up here.”

Rafa scaled the wall and sat beside her. “You’re right, it’s a beauti-

ful spot.” He put his arm around her and gently pulled her close. They

watched the sun sinking slowly in the sky and the subtle changes in

color as the day gave way to dusk. It was then, in the face of such splendor, that he knew. His parents had sat on this wall in the same way and witnessed the splendor of sunset as they did. The ghosts of the past

were still here.

“Do you remember Veronica Leppley?” he asked after a while.

“Of course.”

“She once told me that I wouldn’t feel complete until I had found

my soul mate. Back then, I was searching for my mother. But now

I have you, I realize she was right. Finding Marina gave me a sense of

identity—I discovered who I really am and where I come from—but

finding you gave me a sense of wholeness. I feel you complete the circle.

Where I finish, you begin, and where you finish, I begin. Do you un-

derstand?”

Clementine lifted her chin and kissed his neck. “I totally under-

stand.”

“I love you, Clementine. I think we’re going to be very happy here.”

She sighed contentedly, remembering her yearning to run away but

unable now to recall exactly what it felt like. “I love you, too, Rafa,”

she replied, nuzzling closer. “There’s nowhere else in the world I’d

rather be.”

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The DAwcoMb-DevliSh GAzeTTe

“baffles” gentleman thief case drama

—new mystifying developments—

police baffled (again!)

The spate of burglaries in the Dawcomb-Devlish area, targeting

family treasures in stately homes and country house hotels, has

been dubbed the “baffles” case after the eponymous hero of the

movie, Raffles, who is a Gentleman Thief. but the case, which has

generated both fear and amusement across Devon, has confounded

the police. Now it has taken a dramatic turn.

if anyone thought the baffles case could not get any more mys-

terious, they were wrong. in a sensational twist, it seems the thief
was indeed something of a gentleman: he has started to return his

ill-gotten gains.

The first item returned was the silver from Mr. and Mrs.

Greville-Jones of cherry Manor, Salcombe. last Thursday, they

discovered their silver service, worth £20,000, laid up on their dining room table with a note that read:
Sorry the silver polishing took

so long. Baffles
. “it was as if it was laid up for one of my usual dinner
parties,” said Mrs. Greville-Jones.

Mrs. Powell of watertown Park, Thurlestone, found her dia-

mond ring on the windowsill:
This will put the sparkle back on your

finger. My advice, never take it off again! Baffles
, read the note.

The police, however, are unamused: “The perpetrator in this in-

cident may find this amusing,” said Detective inspector Reginald

bud, “but we regard this as a serious incident of breaking and en-

tering.”

one victim who wishes to remain anonymous commented:

“i leave my front door unlocked now to make it easier for him, and

my ten-year-old son leaves cakes and a glass of milk on the kitchen

table in case he’s feeling hungry. A bit like Santa claus.”

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Table of Contents

Prologue

Epilogue