his heart slam into his ribs, urging him to ask the
question it so badly wanted answered. Ignoring it, he
flicked back the sleeve of his jacket without allowing
her to reply and told her curtly, 'It’s almost lunchtime.
I suggest we have something to eat, then we can collect
the car and I can familiarise myself with this evening's
route.'
The Cotswolds lay drowsing under the warmth of the
summer sunshine, its villages filled with coachloads
of tourists. And, as she did every summer, Jodie wondered
what those drovers who had once brought their
sheep to market along these traditional roads would
have thought if they could be transported to modern
times.
The small market town of Lower Uffington, where
Jodie had grown up, was slightly off the normal tourist
track, fortunately, and Jodie felt her stomach muscles
start to clench with tension as she sat stiffly in
the passenger seat of the hired Bentley. Lorenzo negotiated
the narrow lanes as they dipped down between
familiar grey stone walls and passed the sign
that marked the boundary to the town.
Up ahead of them lay the pretty town square, with
its traditional wool merchants' houses lining its narrow
streets, beyond which the road started to rise towards
the Cotswold uplands where sheep still grazed,
as they had done for so many centuries. Its wool market
had made the town prosperous, and that prosperity
was still evident in its buildings.
Her own little cottage was hidden out of sight down
a narrow lane, its garden tucking its feet into the small
river that ran behind the main street. A pang of mingled
pain and nostalgia gripped her, but it wasn’t so
severe as she had dreaded. Anywhere could be home
if it was shared with the person you loved, she realised.
A small sign indicated the opening between two
houses that led to the yard belonging to John’s father's
building business, and Jodie exhaled sharply as
she saw John’s car parked at the side of the road close
to it.
'What is it?' Lorenzo demanded.
'Nothing.'
And that was the truth. The sight of John’s car,
which in the early days of their break-up would have
filled her with aching pain and loss, now didn’t affect
her at all — apart from a slight feeling of relief once
they had driven past it, in case John himself should
have appeared and seen her.
At the end of the town, set in its own pretty green,
was the church, small and squat, its stained glass windows
picked out by the sunlight. Preparations were
obviously already in hand for tomorrow's wedding,
Jodie recognised as she saw bunches of white flowers
tied up with white ribbon and netting ornamenting the
old-fashioned gate.
John’s family, like her own, had been here for
many generations. John’s parents were relatively well
to do, and their converted farmhouse with its large
garden was just outside the town.
'Can we stop?' Jodie asked Lorenzo.
'If you wish.' He swung the car round into the
small car park, and brought it to a halt.
There was one thing she did want to do, Jodie acknowledged.
One very personal visit she had to make.
'there’s no need to come with me,' she told
Lorenzo as she reached to open the car door. 'I shan’t
be very long.'
'I may as well. I need to stretch my legs,' Lorenzo
answered her.
She could see him frowning when she headed for
the church. And his frown deepened when, instead of
using the main gate, with its floral decorations, she
chose to make a small detour and open a much
smaller gate which led across the immaculate green
and then behind the church to the graveyard.
No one else seemed to be around, but even if there
had been, and she had seen someone she knew, Jodie
would not have allowed herself to be detained. She
had known when she stood in the church in Florence,
making her vows to Lorenzo, that this was something
she wanted to do.
She took the familiar narrow path that wove its way
between large mossed grey tombstones, so ancient
that their engraving had almost worn away, heading
deeper into the graveyard until she came to the place
she wanted.
There, set into the mown grass beneath a canopy
of soft leaves, was the small plaque that marked a
shared grave.
'My parents,' she told Lorenzo simply.
Tears blurred her eyes, and her hand shook slightly
as she reached into her handbag and carefully withdrew
the small box in which she had stored the petals
from her wedding bouquet. Taking them out, she scattered
them tenderly on her parents' grave.
When she turned to look at Lorenzo a huge lump
formed in her throat. His head was bowed in prayer.
'It’s silly, I know, but I wanted them to know…'
She stopped and bit her lip.
