‘And yet in his eyes I’m nothing.’
‘Then he’s blind.’
‘I’ve spent my life trying to make Foster Carlton like me. But he can’t even stand to look at me. And now I’ve embarrassed them all . . . ’ Sam went suddenly silent.
‘How have you embarrassed them?’
‘It doesn’t matter, none of it does. Because I don’t want to see Foster, or my mother, and I definitely don’t want to see my sisters. I’m going to see out the summer here, then I’ll fly back to Hollywood, and you can forget you ever met me.’
Cesca stepped back, as if she’d been stung. Even touched her face with her hand to check it didn’t hurt.
Sam shook his head. ‘Look, I’m sorry, I know I sound crazy, but I promise it’s better this way.’ His face softened as he reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ears. ‘Why don’t I go and get us a drink? All this talk about Foster has left a bad taste in my mouth.’
With that he left the library, making his way across the hallway to the kitchen. Cesca stared after him for a moment, frowning.
Sam Carlton was an enigma, and clearly the master of avoidance. For some reason that only made her want to know him even more.
19
A ministering angel shall my sister be
– Hamlet
‘We’ve missed you on our video calls,’ Lucy told her. ‘It hasn’t been the same without you.’
‘I’ve missed you, too.’ Cesca leaned her head on the glass of the telephone box. ‘But there’s no way to join in. There’s no Wi-Fi at the house, and the Internet café closes on Sunday afternoons.’
‘We could change the day?’ Lucy sounded hopeful.
‘It’s not worth it,’ Cesca said. ‘I’ll be coming home, soon. In the meantime I’ll keep emailing.’
‘How are things over there?’ Lucy asked, her tone sympathetic. ‘Is that actor giving you any trouble?’ Cesca had told her sisters about Sam’s arrival at the villa, appreciating their sympathy at her past colliding with her present.
‘He’s behaving for the most part,’ Cesca replied, not wanting to go into all the details. She wasn’t even sure how to explain it to herself. ‘Anyway, enough about me. How are the others?’
‘Juliet’s OK,’ her sister told her. ‘She’s busy setting up the flower shop, and running after Poppy. Thomas hasn’t changed at all, more’s the pity. And Kitty’s good. Enjoying life in LA, I think. But more importantly, how are you? I hear you’ve been writing again.’ Lucy sounded intrigued.
‘I’ve been trying.’ Cesca didn’t want to get her sister’s hopes up. ‘It’s early days so we’ll see. Who told you anyway?’
‘I spoke to Hugh last week. Dad got locked out of the house and I had to track down the spare keys. Easier said than done when you’re three hundred miles away.’
‘That doesn’t sound like Dad.’
‘He’s getting older, it’s natural for him to be a bit forgetful,’ Lucy said. ‘It was fine, all’s well that ends well.’
‘Very Shakespearian.’
‘That’s us all over.’
Cesca glanced at the display in front of her. ‘I guess I should go. This will be costing a fortune.’
‘OK then, but keep in touch. Email me when you can. Oh, and Poppy got your postcard, she was really excited apparently. She says she wants to visit Italy when she grows up.’
Cesca softened at the mention of her niece. Juliet was the only one of the sisters who’d had a child, and none of them saw Poppy as often as they’d have liked to. Another reason to dislike Thomas.
‘Give her my love the next time you guys Skype.’
‘I will. Oh, and Cesca?’