‘Are you thinking that this might get you back together?’ Phoebe couldn’t have sounded more incredulous if Charlie had announced she was heading off to Mars. ‘That because he’s gone back to being the Matteo from before the wedding it’s like a reset? Charlie, I know you love him but…’
‘No.’ She wasn’t that naïve, not any more. Although how she wished she was, that this could be exactly what Matteo had suggested: a second honeymoon. Her cheeks heated as she remembered the touch of Matteo’s hand on hers and the way her body had leapt to attention, just as it always had. Her mind knew that it was over, but her heart and body clearly had some catching up to do. ‘No,’ she said again, more strongly this time. ‘It’s too late. But something beautiful turned so bitter, so sad, it hurts me here.’ She touched her heart. ‘If I help now, if I do the right thing, maybe I’ll finally manage some closure, whatever that is.’
‘But…’
‘That’s enough, Phoebe,’ their grandmother said from her usual chair by the big range cooker. ‘Charlie’s made up her mind and you need to respect that. For what it’s worth, I think she’s right. I just hope you’re careful, darling. You’ve been through enough.’
‘Nothing I didn’t bring upon myself.’ Charlie smiled wryly. ‘Thank you for never saying it, Gran.’
‘For not saying what?’
‘That you told me so. And for giving me a place to come back to.’
‘What else would I do? This is your home, Charlie. It will always be, as long as you need it.’ Her home and her sanctuary. Charlie looked around the vibrant, warm kitchen with affection.
Both she and Phoebe had spent their teenage years here in this cottage. Phoebe’s parents were in the RAF and often stationed all over the world, whilst Charlie’s mother was an increasingly high-ranking diplomat, moving from posting to posting every few years. Charlie had hated the stifling restrictions of diplomatic life and when her grandmother had announced that Phoebe would be coming to live with her for her secondary education Charlie had insisted on doing the same, despite her parents’ protestations.
‘What’s the plan?’ Gran asked. ‘Are you taking Matteo back to London before heading to Italy?’
Plan seemed like a very grand name for a hurried series of spur-of-the-moment decisions. ‘Going back to London for a night would probably have made the most sense,’ Charlie said. ‘But the problem with deceiving is the tangled web I’m weaving. None of my things are back at the London house. I mean, all those fancy dresses and the jewellery might be, I don’t know what Matteo did with it all, but none of my own belongings. My photos, my own clothes, books, the picture Mum and Dad gave me, I brought them all back here. He’d be bound to notice I had nothing personal there.’
‘So you’re heading straight to Italy tomorrow?’
Charlie nodded. ‘As soon as he gets released. I called Jo—you remember Jo, his PA? I got in touch with her while he was in X-ray. It was more than a little awkward, because obviously she’s been doing the paperwork for the divorce. But when I explained what had happened and what the doctor said, she was really helpful and agreed that this is the best course of action.’ Jo’s instant acceptance of the situation had removed some of the doubt from Charlie’s mind. ‘She’s going to arrange for a driver to meet me at the hospital tomorrow, and from there we’ll head straight to London City Airport, where the Harrington plane will be waiting for us.’ She took another gulp of wine. ‘Turns out there are some advantages to being married to an obscenely rich man.’
‘And then what?’ Phoebe motioned to Charlie to pass her the bottle of wine and poured herself a healthy second helping. ‘Matteo is surgically attached to his phone and his tablet and his laptop, usually all three at the same time. How on earth are you planning to stop him checking his email and seeing a nice communication from his solicitor telling him the divorce is on track? Oh, I can see why you think this is the right course, Charlie, but there’s no way it’s going to work.’
‘It’s all taken care of.’ Charlie wasn’t exactly comfortable with the subterfuge, but Phoebe was right. It wasn’t just the possibility of Matteo realising the truth about their marriage that worried her; it was his inability to switch off. There was no way he’d follow the doctor’s orders if he had access to the outside world. The only solution seemed to be to up the deceit levels. ‘The hospital handed everything that had been in the car to me. So I might have told him that everything was destroyed in the crash and Jo will sort out a new phone and courier it over.’
‘Kidnapping him and cutting off all contact to the outside world? Nice work.’ Phoebe grinned as she swiped the last piece of bread.
‘I’m not kidnapping him!’ Charlie’s protest was half-hearted even to her own ears. She felt on pretty shaky moral ground, no matter how good her intentions. ‘He owns the house in Italy and agreed, wanted to go there. And I have his stuff in my bag—when he gets his memory back, everything will be there waiting for him. But for the next couple of weeks, until he’s outside the rest period the doctor prescribed, all contact comes through me. Luckily, Jo agrees; I am not sure how I would manage without her. Chauffeured limousines and private jets are making this whole situation easier.’
‘I wouldn’t know.’ Phoebe stared dreamily into the distance. ‘Private jets have never been in my existence. But I’d love the chance to find
