The Secrets of Villa Rosso: Escape to Italy for a summer romance to remember

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First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2017

Copyright © Linn B. Halton 2017

Cover illustration © Shutterstock.com

Cover design © Books Covered 2017

Linn B. Halton asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

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Source ISBN: 9780008261283

Ebook Edition © July 2017 ISBN: 9780008261276

Version: 2018-01-29

Dedication

When you have an idea that is like a tiny seed in the back of your head, you dash off some words knowing that one day the story will begin to make itself known to you. That ‘one day’ turned out to be three years later.

I have to thank my lovely husband, Lawrence, for being instrumental in helping me to find the perfect setting in which to unravel Ellie’s tale. Once I had that, the words just flowed until I found myself writing The End.

Over the years we have always found the Italian people to be so very warm and welcoming. The scenery is out of this world and I can still close my eyes and spirit myself away to some memorable evenings dining al fresco, accompanied by the sounds of the singing cicadas.

Love you always and forever.

‘Each life is unique: a series of events on a time line over which you have absolutely no control. You struggle through the low points as best you can and celebrate the highs to remind yourself how good life can be when fate is being kind.

But when I look around at everyone else, it has become clear that my life is a little different. It wasn’t always that way and the question I want to ask the universe is, why me?’

Ellie Maddison

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Epigraph

Our Nineteenth Wedding Anniversary

Chapter 1

In the Beginning

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Rewind One Year and Five Days

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Present Day: One Month After Our Nineteenth Wedding Anniversary

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Coming Soon from Linn B. Halton

Also by Linn B. Halton

About the Publisher

Two lives. The problem? There is only me.

OUR NINETEENTH WEDDING ANNIVERSARY

Chapter 1

Staring back at me from the crystal ball cradled within my hands is the mirror image of a foetus. Then I realise it isn’t one but two little beings facing each other. The picture is so unexpected that my arms begin to tremble and I almost drop the heavy sphere. Their umbilical cords are still attached and my eyes seek out every little detail, wondering why this is being shown to me. The little faces suddenly become animated and I can see their mouths moving as they talk to each other. Surreal doesn’t even begin to describe the feeling that overcomes me and I barely register that I’m no longer alone, until a familiar voice breaks the silence.

‘Oh, Ellie, you’ve found my crystal ball! It doesn’t work; no one has ever seen anything in it. I was told it belonged to a famous medium, but it’s going to end up being a very expensive ornament.’ My boss and best friend’s voice reflects amusement as our eyes meet. Stunned, I have to compose myself before I can return her casual smile and make light of the moment.

Livvie is completely unaware of the images I’m holding within my hands. As I look away from her I glance down once more. It’s only then that I notice that the two little babies are actually divided, within the globe, by a glass wall. A significant detail I nearly missed, which makes my heart race. I feel as if I’m being given a message, but I have no idea at all what it means. Or maybe I’m a desperate woman in search of peace and normality, looking for answers to a problem which has become almost too much to bear.

I replace the globe on the aged, wooden stand and a sudden chill sends a tremor through me. Livvie is already making her way back out through the house to the patio, where the party is in full swing. I follow in her footsteps, angry with myself and wondering why on earth I’d picked the damned thing up in the first place. Had it been calling out to me?

‘There you are. I’ve missed you.’ Josh wraps a comforting arm around my waist and passes me a cocktail. ‘The ice has already begun to melt; you said you’d only be a minute. You nearly missed your own toast. To us, darling!’

He holds his glass aloft and everyone steps forward to chink glasses.

‘To Josh and Ellie on their nineteenth wedding anniversary. You guys remind us all that true love really does last forever.’

Livvie’s toast is from the heart and maybe for a moment she’s wondering if she’ll ever find a Mr Right. I suspect the thought is only a fleeting one, though.

I look up at Josh, trying hard to stop my face from reflecting the rush of emotions those pale-grey eyes always stir within me. That familiar tousled, brown hair frames the face I know so well, partly obscuring the birthmark on his cheek. I call it his ‘kiss from an angel’ and that always makes him smile.

All I ever longed for was to love and be loved, and when Livvie introduced me to Josh, one tiny moment in time changed my whole life forever. He was, and is, my Prince Charming. I remember it as if it were only yesterday, wondering how nineteen years could have passed by at such a frightening speed and deposited us here. Where did all those days go? And why did my wonderful life have to be turned upside down?

IN THE BEGINNING

Chapter 2

The first time I found myself face to face with Josh it ignited a spark that put everything else in the shade. More important, even, than the moment we first said ‘I love you’ to each other, because at that point we already knew in our hearts it was a done deal. We just hadn’t spoken the words out loud, as if it was tempting fate and something might happen to spoil our happiness. By then we were living together, but our first trip to Paris took our relationship to a whole new level.

~

‘Ellie, head for that one.’ Josh tilted his head and I followed his gaze. Then I sprinted ahead. Pulling open the taxi door I threw my bag in first and leapt in after it, sliding across the back seat to make room for Josh. He bundled in behind me, forcing the large holdall onto our laps.

We started to laugh, nervous relief taking over as the driver waited patiently to hear our destination.

‘English?’ Josh enquired, hopefully,

‘Non. A leetle, meybee.’ The driver shrugged his shoulders.

‘Désolé, j’ai l’adresse quelque part.’ It was a brave attempt on Josh’s part and I gave him an encouraging smile.

After much fumbling in pockets, Josh finally held up his hand, thrusting a piece of paper bearing the address of our hotel across to the driver, who nodded. Settling back in our seats, the car sped along avenues and over crossroads, cutting down side streets. We stared in awe at the tantalising glimpses of Parisian life, seen up close for the first time. The driver’s hand seemed to be constantly on the horn as he kept up a low mumble of complaint. When he dropped us off we had no idea how much he was asking for and Josh had bravely stuffed a note into his hand. The driver’s face broke out into a small smile and we guessed that Josh had given him a big tip. He rammed the car into gear and sped away in haste, no doubt worried Josh would change his mind.

Standing on the kerb outside that hotel, Josh pulled me into his arms and lifted me high into the air. Spinning me around until my head became dizzy, I knew I was completely safe in his grasp.

‘We’re here! I love you so much, Ellie, and we’re going to have a fabulous time.’

As I looked down at his face I could see an expression of pure joy. Nothing could dent or spoil the exhilaration of being in the city of lovers.

When we unlocked the door to our room, the acrid smell of fresh paint and new carpet was unexpected. The room had been cleansed of any memories and was like a blank page in a book that had been waiting for us to begin writing a new chapter in it. Did Paris realise that something very special was about to happen?

The ornately carved French doors opened out onto a tiny balcony. They were open to air the room and the summer breeze was playing with the curtains, wafting them gently back and forth. As the deliciously cool air circulated around the room, it carried with it the tantalising smell of freshly baked bread from the hotel kitchens below. I can clearly recall the murmur of distant traffic and voices trilling in the background. It served to remind us how decadent it was to be lying in bed making love on that warm summer’s afternoon.

Even now, all these years later, I can still close my eyes and recapture the magic of those passionate and thrilling days together in Paris. The smell of summer had been heady and the playful breeze had made my skin cool to the touch, a pleasant sensation after the warmth our bodies had created. I clearly remember looking at Josh as he lay sprawled across the bed diagonally, looking deliciously sexy. I wanted to squeal with joy, ‘You’re mine and I’m yours!’

It was the moment when I knew I had nothing to fear. I could trust Josh with everything – my heart, my innermost thoughts – the real me that I often kept hidden. In return he was prepared to lay bare his own emotions. That was when I knew beyond any shadow of a doubt that we were soul mates.

However, that was a time when I truly believed you could have only one soul mate. I was young and naive, assuming that those blessed with that one-in-a-million connection had been chosen and it was destiny. Nothing could hinder the plan that life had laid out for me and that was the first glimpse of my future. A surge of power coursed through me, as if nothing could touch us because it was meant to be. Together we were one, cocooned by the strength of our love.

~

The balcony looked out over the Cimetière de Montmartre. It sounds grim, but walking among the graves and tombstones later that day we didn’t sense death, but the perpetuity of life. A reminder that we each add something to future generations who share the same genes. It signalled a prelude to new beginnings and the knowledge that we would both have a hand in shaping our future.

Life was heady and intoxicating as each new, shared discovery served to confirm that we were made for each other. Moving in together had been a big step in the eyes of our respective families, but for us it was simply the next step.

And afternoon love in that wonderful little room in Paris, fresh and crisp from the refurbishment, gave an air of newness to everything. Like a dream, time seemed to slow down and each second became meaningful, rather than merely one brief moment ticking by.

Always foot-weary, we were glad to go back to the hotel to avoid the midday sun, arms full of sun-ripened fruit, croissants and French pastries. Decadent food for decadent afternoons.

Our walks took us to the artists’ quarter of Montmartre, where we watched the painters effortlessly recreating every imaginable scene. From a beautiful vista of lush meadows filled with wheat and poppies, to a drawing of a peasant enjoying a rustic meal outside a humble dwelling. The sights, sounds and smells were an experience in themselves as we walked along arm in arm.

We mocked each other as we struggled to speak the language with an air of confidence. Our poor attempts to imitate that smooth, low and amazingly sexy French drawl were met with raised eyebrows that made us laugh even more. The people we met warmed to us, as they do to all young couples who are so obviously in love.

Vivid in my memory, still, is the evening we walked from the hotel up to the Basilique du Sacré-Cœur. Churches had always fascinated me, but I wasn’t sure whether Josh would understand that. As our pace slowed and the incline started to bite on our already tired calf muscles, there was a tangible feeling of something magical around us. Whether it was the dark, velvety-blue sky with a mass of twinkling stars surrounding us like a cloak, as we climbed higher and higher, I don’t know. Or perhaps we were simply falling under the spell of Paris. The imposing building with its huge domes that rose up before us was a stark white contrast against the heavenly background. Nothing else existed that night.

When we finally reached the church I had to place my hand on the stonework to reassure myself it was real. There were very few people around; most were at home preparing dinner, or sitting in restaurants waiting to be served. As we entered the church itself a small group of people came hurrying towards us.

‘Bonsoir,’ they chorused as we passed them and continued on inside. It was deserted and serenely tranquil.

‘When a church is empty the space feels holy, truly hallowed ground. It isn’t tainted by the negativity of people, or the games they play and the lies they tell. It feels different, as if it has a life of its own; a shrine to the devotion and love of the craftsmen who toiled to bring the vision alive. Can you feel it too?’ I’d held my breath, as if it was a test I needed Josh to pass.

Embarrassed and wishing I hadn’t blurted out my thoughts, I’d turned to face him. He was looking up at the tall, vaulted ceiling, his head tipped back. He made no move to speak and we stood side by side, entranced as we took in the grandeur and magnificence of the building.

‘It has to be a church wedding. It feels right,’ he said suddenly, turning slightly to look down into my eyes.

‘A church wedding?’ I repeated, my heart pounding so loudly, the colour started to rise in my cheeks.

‘I love you and I know nothing will ever come between us. But I’d forgotten about the sense of history and tradition churches hold within their walls. That’s what I want for us on our wedding day.’

I was stunned and could not speak. We were both overwhelmed by a mystical sense of presence, endorsement and destiny. Josh amazed me. Not only did he understand, but he was prepared to open himself up, despite the very natural feeling of vulnerability I saw reflected in his eyes. We’d hugged each other so tightly it hurt, relishing what we knew was a special moment.

Touring the building in a comfortable silence, we stopped to read the inscriptions on the plaques and carved stone memorials. It seemed fitting to offer up our silence as a mark of respect to those who had gone before. We didn’t break it until we were, once more, outside under the inky blackness of the late-evening sky.

‘Food, wine and music I think!’ Josh had exclaimed, squeezing my hand lovingly. ‘The world is ours.’

I laughed, stealing a moment to glimpse back over my shoulder and grab one final glance at the Sacré-Cœur. I knew I was imprinting the moment on my mind forever.

‘It looks like a wedding cake,’ I whispered.

‘It’s a sign,’ Josh laughed, then covered my face in soft little kisses.

‘It looks unreal and yet we’re here, up close.’

‘Well, I’m glad you made me take the climb.’ He began humming an old French song we’d heard earlier in the day. He started to sway, grabbing my hand and raising it above my head to twirl me around. And then he dropped down onto one knee and, with a tremor in his voice, he said the words. ‘Marry me, Ellie.’

Paris had worked its magic and if you can’t be lovers in Paris, then you have no romance in your soul. But I also knew that Paris had taken us to her heart because she, too, recognised when fate had chosen two people to be together for eternity. But that was back when life was simpler, much simpler.

Chapter 3

Our wedding day was perfect. In between showers of warm, summer rain it was a day made for happiness. Our friends and family were overjoyed to celebrate with us and no one really wanted the party to end. As Josh and I circulated, whenever we brushed past each other we linked fingers for the briefest of moments, eyes seeking each other out with a smile that came from the heart. Discreetly mouthing ‘I love you’ to each other, before moving on to receive congratulations and hugs from those around us. How strange that on your wedding day you spend most of the time with other people, grabbing as many tantalising moments together as you can before being pulled away. But the happiness was tangible and infectious, reminding everyone that life, when it’s good, is very good.

However, the path of life isn’t smooth and tragedy was to come our way. My first pregnancy ended in miscarriage in the fifth month. The grief was overwhelming, but drew us closer together in a way that few can truly understand unless they have suffered a similar loss. It was a time of mourning and that was difficult, not least because we needed it to be private. Those close to us were not allowed inside the tight little box we created around our emotions. To the world we stayed strong, but alone we were distraught and trying desperately to mend our broken hearts.

Marrying so young I’d barely finished my internship with a large interior design company, Westings Interiors, before Josh swept me off my feet. I had taken a little time off after the miscarriage, but quickly settled back into my work routine and put all thoughts of having a baby aside. Then the unexpected news that I was pregnant again came out of the blue. It seemed that fate was smiling upon us once more and as we didn’t want to take any risks. I gave up work when I was at the twenty-week stage. I don’t think either of us relaxed until the moment we finally held Hettie in our arms.

Two years later we welcomed our youngest daughter, Rosie, into the world and she was the bonus that made our little family complete. Whilst nothing would replace the baby we had lost, our lives were rich and full because of our loving daughters. We thanked God every single day for the joy they brought us. We commiserated with each other just as regularly over the sleepless nights and the angst that comes with being a parent. But we managed to survive all of that and our love has grown because of the things we’ve been through together. We’ve weathered our little storms well and hope that it was more by judgement than sheer luck that the girls have turned out so well.

Josh hasn’t been just a husband and a lover, but a friend and confidante. I’ve always shared things with him rather than my mother, when she was alive, or girlfriends. I realised, of course, that was unusual and maybe even a little hurtful to some people, at times. But that reflected the true nature of our relationship. It has given me a growing sense of unease over the years, because it set us apart from every other couple we knew.

We became introvertly self-sufficient, each giving the other everything they needed. When those around us came to me to pour out their hearts and trust me with their biggest fears, I couldn’t do the same in return. I’ve seen a number of very good friends though a difficult divorce, close-family deaths and child-rearing woes. However, I’m conscious that there is a line I have drawn about what I’m prepared to share. Does anyone notice that I hold back and do they realise that Josh is my number-one friend, above all others? Does that make me any less of a friend to them?

I sometimes feel like a complete fraud, as if I should say, ‘You don’t know everything about me, does that matter to you?’ They think they know me, of course, but the simple truth is that they only see what I allow them to see. I find that most people are grateful to have someone who will listen to them; someone who cares enough to hear what they are saying and feel their pain. Often, all they need is a hug, or to let loose that inner turmoil by finally hearing themselves uttering the words. Once shared, it’s a form of release and they are suddenly free to move on. I’m a listener, a hugger and a shoulder to cry on.

But my shoulder to cry on is Josh, because the truth is that I don’t need anyone else. Since that fateful day … it’s not that I love him any less than I did, it’s more complicated than that. Naturally he senses, and has done for a while, that something has changed in me, but he can’t verbalise it. I’m too afraid to break my silence, partly because I’m not sure I could explain what is happening to me. I don’t really understand it myself, but I do know that I now fear I am losing my grip on reality. Or rather, what is real as opposed to what exists solely in my mind.

But I’m talking about before all of that happened; the years when life was somehow more straightforward, despite what fate had to throw at us. We knew some of the knocks we would experience in life would be hard to take, but youth gives one a feeling of invincibility. It’s only as you grow older that you begin to see things differently. Worry begins to hover around you, like a threatening rain cloud on an otherwise bright and sunny day.

For our seventh wedding anniversary we had a party and it also marked the end of the first month in our new, much bigger, home.

‘Beware the seven-year itch, my friend. It comes to us all,’ Nathan, Josh’s boss had joked, slapping him on the back. ‘It suddenly hits you that you’re in for the long haul and that mortgage begins to feel like an increasingly heavy burden. The family grows, you need more space and then you find the home of your dreams. Now you get to spend the rest of your life paying it off. You realise that freedom is something you took for granted in the dim and distant past.’

His wife, the lovely Liz, had pulled a face.

‘So kind of you to share your utterly depressing thoughts, Nathan.’ Her eyes had flashed him a look of amusement, but I noticed a worrying trace of disapproval lurking behind her smile. ‘We’re lucky we’ve survived; many don’t. Yes, it’s hard bringing up a family and it’s only natural there are times when we all long to take a break from everyday life. But if you were still single now, you’d be way out of control.’ Was there a hint of reluctant acceptance in her softly spoken words?

‘Ah, behind every successful man there is a woman,’ Josh spoke up, conscious that the silly banter was in danger of getting out of hand.

Nathan had downed the remainder of his drink in one. ‘I thought the saying was that behind every successful man is a woman, and behind her is his wife.’

Everyone had laughed at that point, because we were all unaware at the time of the cracks in what had seemed like a very solid relationship. But within a year of that conversation, their marriage was over and Nathan began the first in a string of disastrous hook-ups. As for us, Hettie was five years old by then, and Rosie had just turned three. We had joined in that conversation good-naturedly, too tired from disturbed nights and the strains of the house move to read any more into it. Rosie had way too much energy to sleep for more than a couple of hours at a stretch. She was this endless bundle of activity, stopping only when she was exhausted. Often she would fall asleep in the middle of eating a meal, or suddenly curl up on the floor, toy in hand. Who had the energy to even have an itch, we wondered? Certainly not us. I had no idea if Josh worried about it, but we continued to sail through each anniversary and our love was strong and unwavering. The only worry in my mind was what would I do if I ever lost Josh? What if one of us died prematurely? I knew it worried him too, but we chose to never voice those concerns.

Life was ruled by the usual day-to-day family highs and lows, as we negotiated our way through temper tantrums and growing pains. Rosie had just started nursery school and she loved it, blossoming in an environment of play activity and making new friends. By then Josh had been promoted and was running the entire IT section. His week was busy and he often worked long hours, but weekends were family time.

I lost touch with most of my work colleagues as the years continued to fly by, but one of the other interns, Olivia Bradley, remained my one very close friend. Our lives were, and are still, so very different, but that’s partly why my friendship with Livvie works so well. I think we can see in each other the life we didn’t choose, if that makes any sense. There, but for the grace of God, go I. It helps to reaffirm that the individual paths we chose were ultimately the right ones for us.

Livvie thinks children and marriage are overrated. She now lives in a pristinely perfect, designer home, which is spread over three levels and clings to the side of a valley. A few times over the years she’s come to stay for the weekend, but I always feel awkward as it’s hard to keep the house quiet with a constant throng of girls parading through it. Livvie went on to have a single, but exciting, life and now runs her own interior-design company named Bradley’s Design Creative. She works very closely with a building company in which she has a part share. If a client wants their house remodelled before the interior is redesigned, then Livvie oversees the whole project. Of course, I probably flatter myself thinking that Livvie had the life I would have had if I hadn’t met Josh. Would I have been that successful? I doubt it. But when I told her I was thinking of returning to work she had immediately offered me a job.

‘You must come and work for me, Ellie,’ she’d cooed down the phone and I envied her that calm, sultry, yet professional, voice. I was used to being a drill sergeant at home and having to talk just that little bit higher and louder than two noisy girls, and a husband with a distinctly tenor voice. I’d readjusted my pitch and tone in an attempt to bolster my flagging confidence.

‘I don’t know, Livvie, it’s very kind of you but I’m going to need some time to rediscover the, um, other side of me. I’m not sure what I have to offer. I’ve probably forgotten everything I learnt. It feels like a lifetime ago.’

‘Nonsense. Your eye for a good design is instinctive; that’s not something that can be learnt. Plus, both of the girls are at school now, so how else will you fill your day? What you have is life experience and common sense. That’s in short supply at the moment, believe me. Some of the people I employ might have really good credentials, but give them a problem and it’s instantly a crisis. I’m looking for someone with a cool head, who can make decisions and think outside the box. I’ve seen the way you boss that family of yours around and keep them on track, Ellie. Those are precisely the skills I need. You would be doing me a favour.’