Chapter Three

Whitby, Present Day

How could Jon have invited Stefano Ricci to Whitby? Lissy just couldn’t believe it.

He knew how she felt about Stefano; how over the last seven years she had carefully constructed a barrier to keep him out of her life. He was well aware of what had gone on, both during her relationship with Stefano and even what had happened before that.

It was quite clear to her now that Jon had planned this, from the very first moment he decided to do that stupid project. He’d said he knew the right man to contact, the right man to help him out. But not for one moment had Lissy thought her brother would contact Stefano, of all people.

And to make matters worse, while they were all still in that studio, Jon had suddenly had one of his so-called brilliant ideas. ‘Who’s up for a wander down to the beach?’ he asked. The evening was warm and sunny, and even with the sea breeze blowing gently in from the coast, the town was golden and inviting. ‘We’ll dig holes and build sandcastles.’ This, obviously, to the child.

‘Me me me!’ Grace shrieked.

Lissy closed her eyes. ‘Good God,’ she muttered.

‘That sounds lovely.’ There was a note of amusement in Becky’s voice. Lissy opened her eyes and glared at her best friend; her childhood friend, no less, who had eventually married her brother.

Becky smiled innocently at her. ‘Doesn’t it sound lovely, Lissy?’

‘No,’ replied Lissy. ‘Why would I want to go down there amongst all those horrible seagulls and nasty sand? It’ll get in my sandals.’

‘Sand and sandals, the perfect match,’ said Stefano. He had taken up residence by the open door, dragging a chair across the studio and sitting there all lean and long-legged; clearly intending to block her way and, as a bonus, letting the summer air circulate around his bare feet. Those bloody bare feet. The last time she’d seen them, it had been a different summer evening and a different coastal town: Newlyn, in Cornwall.

The pebbly beach hadn’t bothered Stefano. He’d stood there and watched her walk away – well, hobble and slip away as she teetered across the little stones, cursing at him loudly over her shoulder. He hadn’t come after her; and she didn’t know if that was what rankled the most.

But he had this horrible habit of kicking his shoes off whenever he was near water or beaches or even fresh air, it seemed. At first it had been endearing. She loved the idea of walking barefoot with him along a sandy beach under the moonlight. But it had never become a reality – and to this day, she despised bare feet on the beach. And the thought of going to Whitby beach. With him. And his sodding feet.

No.

Just no.

But it seemed like one minute they had been in the studio and she was swearing that she wouldn’t go. And the next —

‘You dig in the sand, Antissy.’

Grace had never been able to get Lissy’s name right. She was usually a remarkably clear little speaker for being three, but “Aunt Lissy” had always, somehow, escaped her. The child thrust the candyfloss pink spade at Lissy and sat down on the beach with a soft flump.

Lissy took the spade and made a few jabs into the sand while Grace’s fingers crept over to the polystyrene carton of chips that by now had a faint layer of grit over them. She selected one and munched on it, watching her aunt all the time.

‘It’s so good when you’re here,’ said Jon. ‘She loves playing with you.’

‘Hmph.’ Lissy knew her face was tight and her mouth all buttoned up; it was either that or she’d give in and break down and cry, and she’d sworn that she’d never let Stefano see her cry again.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a pair of bare feet come into view and she frowned even more. She jabbed the spade into the sand severely.

‘No pebbles here, bella.’ Stefano paused by her for a moment, and the camera made a soft whirr as he apparently took a picture of the sea. Then the feet turned towards her and he sat down, elegantly folding himself up like a deckchair right beside her. She kept her focus on the hole, digging and digging with more energy than strictly necessary.

‘Dig t’Oztraylya,’ muttered Grace, nodding approvingly and apparently satisfied with her aunt’s labours.

‘I won’t find Australia, darling. Don’t be silly,’ said Lissy.

‘Try. You never know,’ murmured Stefano. God, his warm, Italian voice still had the power to make her toes curl, but she battered the feeling down as ardently as she battered the sand.

She worked at the sides of the hole, smoothing them down and patting them to firm them up. Grace knelt up and leaned in towards the hole, poking the end of a seagull feather into the sides and making the sand tumble down the walls in little trickles. Lissy put the spade down and sat back on her heels, sighing. ‘Well done, darling,’ she said. ‘Well done for destroying Antissy’s work.’ Grace giggled and threw a shell into the hole. She began to chatter about buried treasure and Lissy watched her without really seeing her. Stefano was sitting there next to her. His presence felt like a big black storm cloud, ready to burst open and shower her with lightning.

‘Please. You are still angry with me, after all this time?’ He reached a finger out and lifted her multi-coloured fringe out of the way. He brought his finger down the side of her cheek and she flinched away. Stefano’s gesture was almost tender. In fact, to anybody observing, it would have looked tender; but it did nothing but annoy Lissy.

‘That won’t work on me anymore, Stef. Forget it.’

‘Aha – yet you still call me “Stef”. You always used to call me “Stef”.’

‘I meant Stefano. Mr Ricci. Anyway. Forget it.’ Lissy stood up sharply and brushed the sand off her pedal pushers. ‘It’s time I went. Becky! Jon!’ She raised her voice and strode over to her brother and his wife. They had been ridiculously non-discreet and volunteered to go for ice-creams, leaving the other two adults and the child on the beach. Now they were heading back damnably slowly. Jon was saying something and laughing and Becky was looking up at him nodding in agreement. At Lissy’s shout and her hurried movements, they turned her way, a twin expression of surprise on their faces. It wasn’t often Lissy was riled; or at least it wasn’t often she was riled and let people see it.

‘I’m leaving,’ said Lissy. ‘I think I’ve exhausted this place. I hate beaches. You know that.’

‘Oh, don’t go,’ said Becky. She hurried up her steps and drew closer. ‘Look, we brought you an ice cream with a flake in it.’ She held out a dripping mess to Lissy.

Grace suddenly appeared as if by magic between them all. ‘I heard ice cream.’ She smiled. ‘With a flake. Please.’ She held her hand out and Becky shrugged. She went to put it in the child’s sticky little fist.

‘Enjoy it, darling,’ said Lissy. ‘Aunt Lissy is going home now anyway.’

Stef appeared, clutching the pink spade in one hand and a floppy pink sunhat designed to look like a pig in the other. ‘Please. Don’t go just yet. Come. Walk with me to the pier and we can chat.’ He plopped the hat on Grace’s head and she shrieked with laughter, her hands coming up to the brim as Stefano pushed the hat gently down so it slipped and covered her eyes, the ice-cream wobbling dangerously before Lissy steadied Grace’s wrist.

‘I’m coming nowhere with you,’ Lissy growled. ‘I’m leaving and don’t even think about following me.’

Of course he followed her.

‘Elisabetta, I think we need to spend some time talking. We have a lot to say to one another.’ He fell into step with her as she walked away from Grace and her ice-cream.

‘I have nothing to say to you,’ began Lissy, then she clamped her lips together as if she suddenly realised he had almost engaged her in conversation. Stefano chuckled. ‘Damn you,’ she muttered.

‘You have already done that,’ replied Stefano. Lissy faltered but kept on walking. He wondered what she would do when she reached the end of the pier – whether she would just keep on walking right off the thing and end up in the sea, or whether she would do a grand circle and end up retracing her steps back to the beach and safety and noise and people.

‘No. Actually, no.’ Lissy suddenly stopped and swung around to face him. Her eyes blazed in her sun-burnt face and he was drawn again to the unusual colouration of them – one sapphire, one emerald. ‘Let’s get this right,’ she continued, seemingly oblivious to his desire. ‘You damned yourself. You’re the one who was with that woman. What was I supposed to do? Sit and watch while it happened? As if!’

‘It was the biggest mistake of my life,’ said Stefano. ‘In fact, all the years after that – after her, without you, were the result of that mistake. I want to put it right.’ He reached out and tried to take her hand. She shook him away and strode off again. He watched her stomp up to the end of the pier. It was the circuit she was going for then, not the throwing yourself into the ocean thing. That was fine. That was perfectly acceptable.

Stefano looked around and saw a wooden bench facing out to sea. As she couldn’t stay at the top of the pier forever, she would have to come back to him at some point. He sat down on the bench, stretching his long legs out and crossing them at the ankles. He draped his arms along the backrest and leaned back, closing his eyes to catch the last of the warmth in the sun’s rays on his face.

Even with his eyes shut he would know when she was passing him. He hadn’t lived and breathed her perfume so intensely that summer without recognising it. Plus – he smiled to himself, feeling the heat relax his muscles – the gypsy in him would know when she scurried past. His grandmother had always claimed he had inherited his dark, passionate looks and his intuition from her Romany ancestors. Stef was inclined to believe her. Take Lissy, for example; you didn’t walk into that sort of relationship by luck alone. The pull now towards her was as strong as it had ever been. And maybe that was what had drawn him to Newlyn that year; maybe he knew his destiny was there.

Of course, there was only one thing to query about that. He opened his eyes and stared into the cloudless blue sky. Lissy didn’t actually know she was his destiny. He still had to convince her of that one and hoped her heart would believe it even if her head told her otherwise.

Cornwall, Seven Years Ago

Jon had stayed another day or so with Lissy. Then he’d gone back to the hotel and packed his own bags. Fran had left nothing of herself behind; not even a stray toothbrush or item of clothing that would be a perfectly acceptable reason for them to meet up again. It was definitely over. They watched Jon stuff the cases in the car and Lissy felt a little sorry for him.

‘It’s a long way back,’ she said. ‘Are you sure you don’t mind driving? Fran isn’t there to share it, remember.’

Jon smiled ruefully. ‘Yeah. But at least I don’t have to travel back via Sussex, do I? It’s fine. I’ll stop halfway, maybe rent a room somewhere if I need to. Have a mini holiday. Take some photos.’ He shrugged. ‘Or I might just head straight to Whitby. Get started in the studio as soon as I can.’

‘Well remember – whatever you need, just let me know. I’ll get it organised.’

‘Thank you, Lissy.’ Jon gave her a quick hug. ‘Thanks for everything. You seriously didn’t have to buy the place, you know.’

‘I wanted to.’ Then she grinned. ‘I’m your landlady now; that gives me power. Isn’t it marvellous? I told Daddy that I was going to do it. It’s not fair that I got the rich father and the trust fund and you didn’t. It’s the least I could do. This way, you can set yourself up in business and I get to see that I’ve done something good. It’s a start.’

‘It is. And you’re marvellous,’ he said.

Then he was off.

Lissy slipped her hand into Stefano’s as she watched Jon go and sighed as she waved. ‘He can be an utter pain, but he’s my pain. Do you know what I mean?’

‘He’s a good guy. There’s a woman for him out there. His soulmate. He will find her.’

‘Well I hope it’s bloody soon.’ Lissy sighed again. ‘Come on. I want to go shopping. Shopping always makes me feel better.’

‘Love always makes me feel better,’ Stefano murmured. Lissy was aware of his warm body next to hers and her stomach did that squishy thing again.

But no – tempted as she was, she had to be sensible. ‘Shopping,’ she said. ‘And I know exactly where I want to go.’ She pointed towards the high street. ‘I have it on good authority that there is a wonderful antiques dealer just down here and along one of the side streets. I’m going there.’

‘You love your junk!’ moaned Stefano. ‘What is it about that stuff? What is it that draws you to it? You’re like a moth to a flame.’

Lissy laughed. ‘I just love it. I love the history of it and the stories it could tell.’ She reached up and kissed him. ‘Now are you coming shopping or not?’

‘I shall grace you with my presence, Signorina.’ Stefano bowed jokingly. ‘Fear not.’

They meandered down the High Street hand in hand, until they reached the little antiques shop Lissy had talked about. It wasn’t long before she had engaged the owner in conversation and spotted something she liked the look of.

‘So what do you know about the history of this piece?’ she asked. She was looking at a ring, which lay on a faded, red velvet cushion. The centre was a solitaire diamond; a round, brilliant circle which, when you tilted it, would probably look like a glorious diamond spinning-top from the side. ‘I’m guessing it’s Old European cut?’ she continued. ‘And maybe Edwardian, judging by the decoration on the shoulders?’ The platinum ring was set with filigree leaves and flowers and what looked like tiny waves cresting over the decorations either side of the central gemstone. It was a very elegant, sophisticated piece of jewellery.

‘That would be right, Madam.’ The antiques dealer nodded in agreement. ‘You have an eye for these items.’

‘One of my abiding interests,’ she replied. ‘You’d be surprised what I can dig up in shops like this.’

‘I’m sure, Madam. As far as this little beauty is concerned, we don’t know a great deal about it. What you say is correct about it being Edwardian. It’s probably a privately commissioned piece, maybe an engagement ring; but more than that, we can’t tell. I bought it at an auction. I think it echoes the sea, don’t you?’

Lissy looked at the ring for a moment longer, processing the information. She was aware of the dealer watching her closely.

‘Do you want to handle it, Miss?’ he asked. He was a sun-tanned, wiry-haired fellow with a face as round as a clotted cream scone. He smiled engagingly at Lissy and on some level she marvelled, as his white teeth completed the effect of a golden scone split and filled with the lovely local cream.

Then Stefano appeared at Lissy’s elbow. ‘What is the problem? Have you not agreed to instantly relieve the gentleman of his burden?’ he asked, peering at the ring.

‘No. Not yet,’ said Lissy. For some reason, she was entranced by the ring, but it didn’t feel quite right to take it. It seemed wrong that this particular ring, this token of someone’s love, should have ended up in an auction and been sold onto an antiques dealer. Lissy didn’t usually fuss about things like that. She was practical and, as she had said, had an eye for a bargain and a flair for spotting something unusual and interesting. But this piece, sitting on its little cushion, defied all her logic.

Stefano smiled at the dealer. ‘I am sure Elisabetta would like to handle the item as she contemplates it. Please – allow me to pass it to her.’ He held out his hand and the dealer dropped the ring into his open palm.

Stef turned towards Lissy and a glint of sunlight caught the diamond through the window. Lissy blinked as the rainbow flared and pierced her vision, flames seeming to lick around the diamond, turning its heart crimson and gold. She ducked her head and rubbed her eyes, trying to get the shards of light out of her pupils, and an image flitted into her mind of the ring being placed on the slim, right hand of a woman, her fingers curling around those of the person who had presented it. Then the fingers disconnected and the image faded and Lissy was blinking in the little shop again.

She sucked in a deep breath, feeling almost winded.

‘I don’t know if it was supposed to be an engagement ring or not,’ Lissy finally managed to say, her voice sounding odd, even to herself. ‘And if they were married, and it ended up for sale, it must have been a pretty bad relationship for them to get rid of it like that.’

‘Does it matter?’ asked Stef, looking bemused. ‘If you like it, you should try it on.’

‘No.’ Lissy shook her head. The images had thrown her. She glanced at the ring in the palm of Stef’s hand and knew it wasn’t for her – not right now.

‘I think I’d like to think about it,’ she said, still staring at it. ‘It won’t run away. It’s quite expensive anyway so I’ll have to consider the cost.’ That was a lie – it was expensive, but she could afford it.

‘But someone else might buy it!’ Stef moved his hand closer to Lissy. ‘Are you sure?’

‘It’s beautiful and I probably would want it in the future, but I need some time to think. I’m getting a migraine, anyway. That flash caught me in the eyes and it’s all twinkly now.’ That, as well, was a lie. But it was the best she could come up with. The fact was, she wanted the ring, but she didn’t want it at this moment. It just didn’t feel right. ‘I’ll head home, I think, and lie down. It’s the heat. And Jon splitting up with Fran. And the fact he’s driving back all alone. I don’t like to think of it.’

‘Oh – my poor Elisabetta. Wait. I’ll take you!’ Stef’s voice carried through the doorway into the street as she stumbled outside, rubbing her eyes again.

‘No, it’s fine!’ she called back. ‘I’ll see you later.’ And then she picked up speed and ran back the way she had come.