Chapter 42

Jim and I were in the car on the way to Camona, speeding up the motorway in the fast lane. Over breakfast at the hotel Jim hadn't said much, and so I didn't press him to talk about the situation, instead doing my best to remain supportive. I'd tried calling Tabitha's art gallery, Camona Arte, that morning, using the number on her website, but no one answered, and the answer machine had been full. I hoped she wasn't away and that we weren't wasting our time.

When we arrived in Camona, Jim parked by the sea. It was a pretty village with pastel-coloured houses and maritime pine trees and fishing boats. Although I'd loved the buzz and hum of Florence, and the art history and architecture, it was good to be somewhere calmer, and also to experience the Italian coast.

As it was too early to check into the hotel, we went straight to the art gallery. Camona Arte was on the seafront, tucked amongst cafés, an ice cream parlour and a shop selling buckets and spades and beach umbrellas. The front door was open, and I said to Jim, ‘Do you want to go and get a coffee or something?'

‘Yeah, I'll do that,' he said, heading for the café on the other side of the shop selling touristy things. I saw him take a seat with a sea view. He hadn't even attempted to catch a glimpse of Tabitha, if she were indeed inside. I ran through what to say in my head, and there was no way I'd mention the son she'd abandoned was sitting at a table only metres away.

Inside the art gallery, paintings similar to those on the website hung on the walls, and there were more canvases on the floor, propped against the wall. And then I saw her. She stood at the till, writing in a notebook, and looked up as I stepped over the threshold, the ding of a bell announcing my arrival.

‘Buongiorno,' she said.

‘Buongiorno,' I replied. ‘Do you speak English?'

‘Yes,' she said. Putting down her pen, she studied me. ‘I am English, actually,' she said. ‘Where are you from?'

‘Surrey.' I hadn't been prepared for the purpose of my visit to be obvious by me revealing where I lived.

‘Oh, so am I. Whereabouts?'

‘Well, currently, I'm living in a village between Guildford and Dorking.'

She lifted her eyebrows, her interest now clearly piqued.

‘It's called Gatley.'

‘You live in Gatley?' she said.

‘Yes.'

‘I know Gatley very well. I grew up there, in fact.'

‘You did?' I said, continuing with the charade I'd started.

‘Yes. I'm Lucia.' She proffered a hand, and I shook it.

‘Claire Bell.'

‘Do you fancy a cup of tea, Claire?'

‘Yes, please.'

She gestured for me to take one of the white plastic chairs outside the gallery, and I sat down. A few minutes later, she brought out mugs of tea and a plate of biscuits, placing it all on a table with an umbrella.

‘So, clearly you're here to see me. May I ask why?' she said.

‘Well, I've been working at Gatley Hall for a few months.'

She nodded and took a sip of her tea.

‘And I found a letter from a woman called Margaret.'

‘Oh yes, good old Mags.'

‘And she's been looking for you for a really long time.'

‘She has?'

‘Yes. She wants to give you a brooch that belonged to your mother.'

‘Oh really? That's very kind. How old is she now?'

‘In her early nineties. Would you be interested in coming back to England to see her?'

‘I'd have to think long and hard about that. There might be another reason why she wants me to return, although I don't see Mags as the interfering type.'

This must be a reference to Jim, but I acted as though I didn't know of his existence.

‘Do you have a card or something?' she said. ‘You turning up like this out of the blue has kind of bowled me over, to be quite honest.'

‘Absolutely, I understand,' I said. I handed her my business card.

‘Thank you for coming all this way, Claire, although it does seem to be a waste of your time.'

‘All right. Don't hesitate to email me if you'd like to come over. I can arrange for you to stay in a hotel nearby, if you like.'

She smiled, but said nothing as she slipped the card into the pocket of her trousers. Feeling dismissed, I got up and made a thing of pushing my chair under the table while thinking about what to say. Should I mention that Jim was here? Would I regret it if I didn't? But he wouldn't be happy about that. All I could do was hope Tabitha and Jim would find their way back to each other. She got up and gave me a small wave as she went back inside the gallery. My visit must have stirred up a lot of emotions and I needed to give her time to mull everything over.

Putting my bag onto my shoulder, I went to find Jim in the café. He was staring at the sea, an Americano on the table. He'd arranged a chair beside him and our view was of a small bay with a sandy beach. To the right was a harbour with fishing boats and pastel-coloured houses, reminiscent of Cornwall.

‘This is a nice spot,' I said, sitting down.

‘How did it go?' he said.

‘Okay. She was quite friendly at first and even made me a cup of tea, but once I told her my reason for visiting, leaving you out of it, of course, she wasn't interested in talking further.'

‘It was bound to be a bit of a shock, you turning up like that.'

‘Perhaps she just needs a bit of time. I gave her my card and hopefully she'll get in touch. I've done what Margaret asked of me, and fingers crossed she decides to come over to England.'

He nodded and looked straight ahead, out to sea.

A waiter approached the table, and I ordered a cappuccino.

‘Let's make the most of being here and try to enjoy the rest of the day,' Jim said.

‘It would be a shame not to.'

‘After this we'll check into the hotel, and I might have a nap. Then out for early drinks and dinner, seeing as we didn't have lunch?'

‘Sounds good to me,' I said.

Once we'd checked in, I took a long bath with the orange-scented oil provided by the hotel and then went down to the bar. Jim sat at a table outside in the courtyard, under a tree. It was a lovely setting, with trees providing shade during the day and tall terracotta pots filled with red and pink flowers. Someone splish-splashed in the pool at the far end of the garden as they swam lengths up and down.

Jim scrolled his phone with a bottle of beer by his side. When I approached, he looked up and said, ‘Hi.'

He studied what I was wearing – a knee-length pink dress with cap sleeves that clung in all the right places.

‘Another nice dress,' he said.

My face warming, I said, ‘Thanks.'

Now we'd kissed, he was making no secret of being attracted to me, and I wondered if we might have a future together once he'd worked through all of the Tabitha and ex-fiancée stuff. I sat down opposite. A waiter approached, and I ordered a glass of Pinot Grigio.

‘Well, this is a lovely spot,' I said, selecting an olive out of the bowl on the table.

‘Isn't it,' he said, putting his phone away. ‘I kind of wish we could stay for longer.'

‘It does feel a bit rushed, doesn't it. Camona is lovely.'

‘We'll just have to make the most of the evening,' Jim said, raising his bottle of beer.

‘Definitely.'

The waiter placed my wine on the table. Picking it up, I clinked Jim's bottle and we said, ‘Cheers.'

‘So, after this drink, dinner?' Jim said.

‘Sounds good to me.'

I felt it was my duty to at least try to persuade Jim to meet Tabitha while he had the chance. He didn't need to reveal who he was. Maybe it would help him in some way.

‘Jim, I have to ask…do you want to meet your mother while we're here?'

‘I don't see her as my mother, so could you not call her that, please?'

‘Sorry.'

Here we were in this perfect setting, and I'd ruined the mood.

Attempting to recover the situation, I said, ‘I shouldn't have brought it up.'

‘No, you shouldn't have. Before coming to the bar I walked to the end of the promenade, and there's a nice-looking restaurant called La Rotunda. Do you fancy going there?'

‘Sure.'

I recalled from the website that the gallery would still be open, and it struck me that we'd be walking past it on the way to the restaurant. If Tabitha and Jim were supposed to meet, it would happen then.

‘Shall we go now?' he said.

‘Okay.'

The waiter appeared, and Jim asked for the bill. I checked my phone, and there was a message from Helen.

How's it going? Enjoying alone time with Jim?

I replied:

Oh you. Hope you're feeling better (if you are in fact unwell)

I have no idea what you're talking about *winking emoji*

So, she had faked the stomach bug. How very Helen. I'd become a character in one of her books.

Had a feeling you were making it up

Was it a good idea?

I wanted to tell Helen about the new development, but it wouldn't be fair to Jim.

I think so.

Well, good luck.

Thanks. See you soon.

I put my phone away.

‘Who were you talking to?' Jim said.

‘Just Helen.'

‘Is she feeling better?'

‘A little.'

‘I don't think she was really ill,' he said, standing up.

‘Oh, I'm sure she was,' I said.

‘Hmm,' he said.

We left the table and he gestured for me to go first into the hotel lobby. We crossed the white marble floor and went outside. There were people milling about, all dressed up for the evening. As we walked along the promenade, there were still people on the beach. A dad built a sandcastle with a small boy and a group of teenagers sat in a circle with a speaker playing music. We passed Camona Arte, and sure enough it was open, and Tabitha was sitting in a chair outside.

‘Claire,' she said, beckoning me over.

‘What do you want to do?' I said to Jim through my teeth.

‘I don't know,' he said.

‘I need to say hello. Come with me, and I'll introduce you as a friend?'

‘She knows my name though,' he said.

I pulled a face. ‘We can make one up.'

We walked over.

‘Hello,' I said.

‘This must be the friend you mentioned?' she said.

‘Yes, this is J…John,' I said.

She held out a hand, and said, ‘Lucia.'

Jim shook her hand, giving her a slight nod and without looking her in the eye. He seemed so wounded, and I felt bad for him.

‘Nice to meet you, John,' she said.

‘Likewise,' he said.

She studied him, as if sensing he was familiar. If she'd seen Luca's portrait, she might be putting two and two together. Did a mother know when she was looking at her child, even if she hadn't seen them since they were a baby?

‘We're heading to La Rotunda for an early dinner now,' I said.

‘All right. Nice to see you again, Claire. And I am sorry about earlier. It was a bit of surprise you turning up out of the blue. There is more to it than meets the eye, you see.'

Nodding, I said, ‘I understand.'

We exchanged a look, and I said, ‘It would make Mags so happy if you got in touch. Perhaps email me when you've had time to mull everything over.'

‘Okay,' Tabitha said.

‘Bye,' I said.

As we crossed the road back to the promenade, I looked at Jim. His shoulders were hunched, and he seemed greatly affected by meeting Tabitha. Perhaps I'd made a mistake taking him past the art gallery. I knew about having a mostly absent parent, but at least my dad had taken me out for birthday lunches. I desperately wanted to make Jim feel better.

When we reached La Rotunda, a waiter showed us to a table on the veranda with a view of the bay. The sun was setting, creating the most beautiful sky, a vast canvas painted in pastel pink. A fishing boat pulled out of the harbour and I watched it disappear into the distance. I looked across at Jim, who was studying the menu.

‘I'm sorry,' I said.

‘It is what it is. Let's get some wine. A bottle of Pinot Grigio?'

‘That would be great,' I said.

While Jim ordered the wine, I had a thought. Shouldn't I encourage him to go and see his mother, to try to bring about some kind of reconciliation? Was it my responsibility to do that? Would Mags want me to do that?

The waiter went to get the wine and Jim continued to look at the food menu.

‘Jim?' I said.

‘Yes.'

‘Do you think you should go back to the gallery?'

‘No,' he said from behind his menu.

‘Are you sure?'

‘Claire, please can you stop this? I already feel quite annoyed by the whole situation. Obviously if I'd have known she was my mother I wouldn't have agreed to replace Helen on this damn trip, would I?'

‘You wouldn't?'

‘Of course not. Why would I want to see her after she abandoned me as a baby? She's already made it very clear that she wants nothing to do with me.'

‘Oh Jim.'

‘What?'

‘How do you know she doesn't regret what she did?'

‘Wouldn't she have got in touch if that were the case? Tried to see me?'

‘I guess you're right.'

‘I know I'm right.'

And then I saw to my surprise, over Jim's shoulder, Tabitha approaching our table. Oh no, had she overheard our conversation? And how was Jim going to deal with this?

She came up to the table and Jim threw me a look.

‘Hi,' I said.

‘Hello, both,' she said, pulling her pashmina around her shoulders. ‘I'm sorry to interrupt your dinner, it's just, well, after you left, I realised something.'

‘What's that?' I said, already knowing the answer.

‘Your name isn't John, is it?' she said to Jim.

He shook his head.

‘Should we offer Lucia a seat?' I said to Jim, using her preferred name.

‘I can't do this,' he said, getting up. ‘You can sit here.'

‘Where are you going?' I said.

‘For a walk.'

‘Can't you stay for a minute and listen to what I have to say?' Tabitha said as he walked away. But he went down the steps onto the pavement and crossed the road to the promenade.

‘Why don't you sit down?' I said.

She took Jim's chair. ‘When Luca and I spent some time together,' she said, ‘before we sadly had a falling-out, he showed me some photos of when he was younger and, well, I saw the portrait that brought him and my mother together at the gamekeeper's cottage. Mrs Willis took me to see it.'

‘I don't know what to say,' I said. ‘After I came to see you I tried to get Jim to introduce himself, but he's hurt by you leaving, understandably.'

‘Yes, I know. I can't expect a good reaction from him.'

‘He only found out who you were yesterday.'

‘It must be a shock for him,' she said.

‘He'll come round,' I said.

‘How long are you in Camona for?' Tabitha said.

‘We're flying home tomorrow.'

‘Well, now the cat's out of the bag, I'll have to seriously think about coming to England, although it would be an emotional trip.'

‘I'm sure it would be. Well, you have my details,' I said.

‘I'd need to arrange for someone to look after the gallery.'

‘The exhibition is the first week in June, if you'd like to come for that, and I'd love for Margaret to be able to give you the brooch soon. Time isn't on her side.'

‘All right. I need time to think,' she said, getting up. ‘Goodbye, Claire, and thank you.'

Tabitha had completely ruined any chance of us rescuing the evening by interrupting our dinner, but I still hoped she might come to England and try to talk to Jim.

I said, ‘Goodbye,' she left and then I messaged Jim to say she'd gone, and he should come back and eat with me. He didn't reply and so I ordered a pizza margarita and ate alone, then took the rest of the bottle of wine back to the hotel. While I was getting ready for bed, Jim sent a message:

I'm sorry about walking off like that. This is all a bit much and I just need to be alone. I hope you understand. I'll see you in the morning.

All I could do was give him time.