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‘OK, so why don’t we let Google decide?’ Natasha suggested with a laugh.
Kim frowned.
‘Trust me,’ her friend assured, as the ‘I Feel Lucky’ prompt appeared and Tash duly pressed ‘enter’. ‘There. What do you think?’
‘Italy?’
‘Yes. On the other side of the world, a whole ocean away from your folks’ reach,’ she added with a satisfied smile. She pushed the laptop in Kim’s direction and a flood of stunningly picturesque images filled her vision.
She knew Italy was beautiful. Her family had visited Venice once when she was six or seven and Kim had always wanted to go back. She remembered Gloria being annoyed with her because all she wanted to do was chase around after the pigeons in St Mark’s Square.
She flicked through the on-screen images of picture-postcard scenery: blue skies, historical sights, twinkling water and impossibly pretty villages, each one more appealing than the last.
The idea of running away to such a place was unbelievably alluring. Not to mention romantic.
‘Looks incredible …’ she muttered, as she continued her search.
‘Good place to hide away for a while and maybe get your bearings?’
‘Yes, but there’s no way I can go.’
‘Why not?’ Natasha challenged. ‘No one has to know and I certainly won’t tell. What’s stopping you?’
‘How am I going to pay for it? If I use the Amex, Mom and Dad will know and they’d be on the next flight to drag me back before I even arrive,’ Kim pointed out.
Or more likely, have someone else do it. Her driver, probably.
‘Not if you pay with mine.’ Natasha grabbed her purse and pulled out the little magic black rectangle.
Kim took the credit card from her friend and turned it over in her hands. She bit her lip. Could this tiny piece of plastic be the key to her escape? She grinned.
‘How much can I spend?’
‘Whatever you need,’ Natasha answered airily, as a satisfied grin spread across her face. ‘No one’s going to check. I can cover your flight, hotel – everything. You’ll need some cash for spending, though, or else your parents will be able to track you.’
Clearly Natasha had been watching too much true crime on TV again, but Kim was thankful. If she did go ahead with this then she couldn’t take the chance that her parents would find out.
‘OK, but just coach flights, and nowhere expensive, OK? And I’ll pay you back.’ She knew the money wouldn’t matter to her friend but it did to Kim.
If this was going to be about finding her own way, then she needed to get her priorities straight from the get-go.
‘Great! So let’s find you someplace to stay,’ Natasha practically sang as she pulled the laptop closer. ‘Italy’s a big country. Where would you like to go?’
‘I don’t know. Does it matter? Isn’t the point of an escape to just go and see what happens?’ Kim pointed out.
‘Pin the tail on the donkey then,’ Natasha laughed.
‘What?’
‘On the map. Just close your eyes and pick a spot,’ she insisted.
Kim looked at her sceptically. ‘Seriously?’
‘Just do it.’
Kim did as she was bid and they both stared at the part of Italy she’d picked, a spot at the shin area of the boot-shaped map.
The Amalfi Coast looked and sounded amazing.
And the further along the plan progressed, the more hopeful Kim felt. A chance to take some time out, if only for a little while, was something she hadn’t even realised she needed.
Either one last summer hurrah before life as she knew it ended, or the opportunity to find out what the alternatives could be. And perhaps, most importantly, a chance to outmanoeuvre her parents, have some fun and take charge of her life in the most spectacular way.
‘All we need now is your flight. You’re supposed to leave for England next month, right?’
‘Yes,’ Kim confirmed.
‘So find out the date and we book your flight to Italy for the same day, so your parents won’t be suspicious.’
Kim had to laugh. ‘You really think of everything, don’t you? Espionage would suit you.’
‘Don’t think I haven’t considered it,’ her friend mused. She continued in her best James Bond voice. ‘Slater. Natasha Slater. Agent Nine-Inch Heels.’
‘Thanks, Tash,’ Kim said as her emotions took over. ‘For this … for everything.’
‘Of course.’ Her friend pulled her in for a hug. ‘You’re my best friend and I want the best for you. Whatever that may be.’ She turned back to her computer. ‘Now, let’s find a place for you to stay,’ she continued. ‘Somewhere fitting for Kim Weston’s Italian Great Escape.’
Chapter 5 (#ulink_b7191432-adb4-5ccd-8e4d-54dc5d408366)
Now
‘So are you going to share what’s on your mind?’ Antonio asked as his Maserati made its way along the coast and deftly around the hairpin bends that used to so terrify Kim, but were as familiar to her now as Fifth Avenue used to be.
She turned to look at him, brushing back strands of her hair as it blew in the breeze.
In spite of his advancing years, he was still very handsome. There was something about him that reminded her a lot of her husband.
Both men had angular jaws and arresting eyes, but while Antonio’s were brown, Gabriel’s were piercing blue. Both also had Roman-shaped noses, reflecting their Italian roots. Gabe was American but his family was originally from Sicily, and the semblance of his ancestry still shone through.
Now, she visualised her husband’s handsome face before her – his gentle eyes and brilliant smile. She hadn’t seen that smile in weeks and she missed it.
‘Nothing,’ she lied automatically, before adding, ‘nothing important.’
‘No trouble in paradise, I hope?’
‘No trouble,’ she answered a little too quickly. ‘It’s just … Lily is young and life has been … challenging lately.’
‘And of course that would have nothing at all to do with your frequent absences and workload …’
Kim loved Antonio’s honesty, but sometimes she hated his candour.
‘I need to work hard, you know that,’ she answered. ‘Lots of people relying on me – there are publicity engagements, photoshoots, interviews, you know the drill. Especially over the last eighteen months,’ Kim continued, referring to Villa Dolce Vita. ‘This new venture is the culmination of everything we’ve worked for, Antonio, the showcase for the brand. Obviously it’s taken a huge amount of my time and effort. If we want Villa Dolce Vita to be all it can be, then I need to put in the necessary care and attention.’
‘But what about your family? Doesn’t it also deserve your care and attention?’
His words were a jolt to her system and she didn’t know how to answer. Kim supposed she’d never thought of it in those terms. She scoffed internally. The Sweet Life was all about mindfulness and finding balance in all things, yet she knew that, ironically, her own life once again was heavily off-kilter.
‘Bella? Where did you go?’
Kim snapped back to reality as they pulled up close to the trattoria. ‘Sorry, what?’
Antonio laughed. ‘I said that I think there is a lot more going on than what you are telling me. Let’s talk about it properly over lunch.’
But where to even begin? Kim wasn’t sure she had the words to express the turmoil in her brain as she took a seat across from her mentor and friend inside the charming cliffside restaurant.
How could she confide in Antonio everything that was going on in her life just now, let alone the sense of dread she felt deep down?
To say nothing of the ugly truth that Kim was turning out to be a terrible mother. Just like her own.
Gloria had never cared about Kim. Never considered her daughter or what she wanted. The only thing her mother ever desired was her own ends. It didn’t matter how they came, as long as she got them.
Kim realised a long time ago that she had been just another one of her mother’s devices. Her father had wanted a child to carry on the Weston legacy. They’d hoped for a son but Kim was it, and her mother had lived with that as best she could. She made sure she had nannies and the housekeeper to tend to Kim’s every scrape and need, while she jetsetted across the world. Success was all she cared about.
Kim never experienced what it was like to have a mother’s love. And now it seemed she lacked the skills and knowledge to give it to her own flesh and blood. While she, too, relentlessly pursued success.
‘Bella?’ Antonio pressed when the waiter had poured the wine.
‘It’s just … most of the time I don’t know what I’m doing,’ she admitted to Antonio, as tears filled her eyes. ‘With Lily, I mean.’
His comforting gaze lingered on her momentarily before he focused on the glittering water. ‘Emilia and I were married for about five years when I began to question it – the marriage, I mean.’
The confession came as a huge surprise. Kim could never have imagined that Antonio, the man whose love for his wife she thought unmatched, could ever have thought he’d made a mistake.
She didn’t for one second regret marrying Gabriel; she adored him and almost from the moment they met knew he was her soulmate. But she was just as certain she was never cut out to be a mother, and when Lily arrived, her worst fears were realised.
Every day of her daughter’s three-year-old life, she’d felt like a failure at it. And the worse she felt, the more she threw herself into her work, leaving her husband to care for their daughter pretty much alone while she built The Sweet Life into an international brand.
He never complained, never even seemed to notice that Kim was spending less and less time at home as the business grew. He’d been there from the start, so knew that this was her passion, and the reason she was pushing so hard to make this new venture a success.
But neither her husband or Antonio knew that The Sweet Life had actually been built on lie.
And Kim was terrified of being uncovered as a fraud.
Chapter 6 (#ulink_e5c0297e-10af-5c78-b06a-71ba2777ab3c)
Now
Colette Hargreaves yawned as she rolled over in bed.
The blinds were open and it was gone 7 a.m. She turned over, her copper hair falling across her shoulders as she looked around the bedroom.
Outwardly, everything was in its place, but she sensed something was missing.
‘Ed?’
Silence answered her call and Colette swung her feet from beneath the sheets and onto the lush new carpeting they’d had laid during the most recent renovation of their London townhouse. Her husband was fond of hardwood, whereas she preferred carpet, so they’d made a compromise. Carpet in the bedroom and hardwood everywhere else.
She pulled a robe over her silk nightgown and tied a loose knot at her waist as she slipped her feet into her slippers and headed for the door.
Their house was such a far cry from the tiny cottage she’d lived in growing up. Colette had left Brighton behind five years ago when she’d been offered a translator position at the Home Office.
A little while before that, Ed had asked her to marry him, and suddenly Colette was a Londoner with a comfortable house near Hyde Park.
Three bedrooms, living/dining area, a kitchen and outdoor terrace, and yet the house felt so empty. She walked into the living room and turned on the television before going into the kitchen to start breakfast.
She had just plated some eggs and bacon when Ed walked in, dripping with sweat, his sandy hair now dark against his forehead.
‘Good morning, darling,’ he greeted, walking over and kissing her cheek. He pulled open the fridge and grabbed a bottle of his post-run shake.
Her husband was very concerned with his health, jogged seven days a week, and drank pre- and post-workout elixirs comprised of things Colette didn’t want to think too much about.
‘How was your run?’ she asked as she set his plate on the white granite worktop. Her sister Noelle often joked that the brightest thing in the entire house was Colette’s hair.
Ed’s mother Laura had ‘helped’ with the decorating (an understatement) and had declared bright colours gaudy and unsophisticated.
Colette hadn’t wanted to argue. She was in a different world here, where the rules were set but often not shared, and one small misstep could have negative social or professional consequences.
The older woman also cautioned that people would look to topple Colette because of Ed’s profile within the London business world and that there would be several who would love nothing more than to see their relationship ruined.
Laura’s intentions weren’t malicious, Colette knew, but a heartfelt warning. Ed’s mother was much like her, in a way. She’d come from a simpler life and had been propelled into this world by her own marriage. It had ended badly for many of the same reasons she now cautioned Colette about.
She’d left Ed’s dad a few years later and made a place for herself on her own terms. She wanted Colette to do the same, without the broken marriage.
‘It was good. I ran into Carter and Freddy in the park,’ Ed informed her as he continued to drink the contents of his bottle. ‘They said they had some news about that IPO I’ve been tracking.’
When they first met, her husband was a lowly portfolio manager’s assistant for a small investment firm in London. Now, he was the personal fund manager for seven- and eight-figure families, who paid him more than handsomely to manage their investments.
He’d gone from a tiny fish in a small pond to a great white in a lake of other investment managers just like him.
‘And speaking of news – according to Mother there’s another grandchild on the way.’ Ed’s tone was casual but Colette noticed he wouldn’t meet her gaze.
She was glad of it, because she knew there was no way she would have been able to hide her reaction. ‘Oh. Sarah’s pregnant again?’ She wasn’t entirely sure how she’d even got the words out, the lump of disappointment in her throat was so huge. Or was it envy?
Colette wasn’t sure how to describe the visceral, almost primal disappointment you experienced when someone else managed to achieve the very thing you wanted.
Five years of marriage and countless attempts, and still she and Ed had yet to conceive. There had been occasions when she thought she might be pregnant, but each time proved to be dodgy hormones or a faulty pregnancy test.
Ed was great about it, always encouraging, but she knew he was as disappointed as she was.
