With a sense of unease, Abby wondered if her car had been found yet, and what was going on back at her home in Elba. She felt a pang for Matteo that threatened to undo her and tears began to gather in the corners of her eyes. What must he have thought when he came home the previous day? She looked longingly at the phone at the side of the bed but knew she couldn’t call him. Not yet.
Abby quietly got up so as not to wake Ellie. She showered away the fitful night’s sleep, then as she got dressed she checked the time – it was early, not quite seven. But that meant it wouldn’t be long before the buffet downstairs opened, and she could kill for a cup of coffee.
Leaving Ellie asleep, Abby padded quietly down the stairs. In the dining room, the tables from the night before were remade with fresh linen. All stood empty. A long table running down the side of the room was filled with breads, pastries, cheese and cereal. Abby’s nose twitched at the smell of coffee and she poured herself a cup and added milk. As she took a sip, the owner of the pensione came in with a plate of fresh figs, which he placed on the table. He wished her a buongiorno before leaving again.
Abby’s attention was drawn to the corner of the room, where a TV was mounted on the wall. It was switched on; a stylishly dressed pair of presenters sat on a sofa, hosting a breakfast news show. She listened to the musical inflections of their language – her Italian was improving but she was still a long way off being fluent. They seemed to be discussing a political issue but she couldn’t quite make it all out. Then they took a pause before launching into the next item. Eyes fixed to the screen, Abby almost dropped her cup in horror. She was looking at her own face, Ellie by her side. A fixed smile on their faces as they obeyed Susanna’s request to have their photo taken in the restaurant they’d had lunch in only the day before. The newsreader was saying they were missing, that they had left Elba sometime yesterday afternoon and the police wanted to talk to them.
Abby flung her cup onto the nearest table and raced upstairs. She burst into the room just as Ellie was surfacing.
‘What’s happened?’ asked Ellie, still half asleep, nervous at Abby’s anxiety.
‘We need to leave,’ said Abby, starting to stuff Ellie’s things back into her suitcase. She threw over a dress, which Ellie caught. ‘Get dressed.’
‘What? Can’t I have a shower first?’
‘There’s no time.’
‘It won’t take long.’
Abby turned and looked at her sister. ‘Now, Ellie. We need to leave now. We’re on TV,’ she said through clenched teeth. ‘The owner of the pensione is down there – it’ll only take a couple of seconds for him to recognize us. That’s if he hasn’t already and called the police.’
Ellie’s eyes widened in fear. ‘Oh my God.’
Abby got her own bag and quickly filled it with her things. Ellie, now dressed, was simultaneously shoving her feet into her sandals and flinging her hair up into a ponytail.
The two sisters walked silently down the stairs, bags in hand. Halfway down they could see the pensione owner working at the reception desk. The minute they reached the bottom of the staircase, he’d spot them.
Abby waited, unsure of what to do, and then the owner’s wife called him from the kitchen. He got up and left the desk.
‘Now,’ said Abby, hurrying down the rest of the stairs. Ellie followed and they ran for the front door and across the car park to the car.
‘Hey!’ shouted a voice, and Abby turned to see the pensione owner coming after them. ‘You need to pay! Pagate!’
‘Get in, get in!’ yelled Abby and she flung their bags in the back as Ellie clambered into the car. Abby started the engine as the pensione owner’s fingers were grasping at the door handle. Petrified, she wrenched the car into gear and, just as the door began to open, she pulled away in a cloud of dust.
TWENTY-FIVE
‘What else did they say?’ asked Ellie. She looked anxiously over at the speedometer and wished Abby would slow down a bit.
‘I didn’t hear anything else. Just that we had gone missing and the police wanted to talk to us urgently.’
‘Do you think the guy back there, at the pensione, do you think he heard the news?’
‘If he hadn’t, it’s only a matter of time.’
Ellie stretched out her right leg; it still felt numb from the day before and she rubbed the muscles in her thigh.
‘You OK?’ asked Abby, glancing across.
‘Just a bit sore. Must be from the accident,’ Ellie said briefly, before changing the subject. ‘Where are we going?’
‘Don’t know,’ admitted Abby.
‘You do realize we’ve run again?’
Abby bit her lip. ‘Yeah.’
‘Makes me look even more guilty.’
‘You think we should’ve stayed? Handed ourselves in?’
‘Not “ourselves”. Me. I’m the one who pushed her.’
‘I drove the car. I’m an accessory.’
Ellie looked across at her sister. ‘Funny, isn’t it?’
‘What?’
‘All those years I wanted to spend time with you and you wouldn’t let me. Now look at us.’
‘Yeah, well, you were annoying,’ said Abby.
‘I was not!’
‘Were to me. You couldn’t do a thing wrong. Mum only ever cared about you and your needs.’
‘I was ill,’ said Ellie. ‘As you well knew,’ she added tartly. She looked over at Abby, who was making a point of concentrating on the road. Probably avoiding the conversation, Ellie thought. Well, I want to have it.
‘I always felt guilty, you know. That Mum seemed to . . .’
‘Yes?’
‘Prefer me. I used to feel sorry for you but at the same time I loved her attention. Loved her.’ She shook her head. ‘So screwed up.’
‘Yes. But not you.’
‘So how much did you hate me?’ asked Ellie.
‘It wasn’t like that,’ said Abby, not altogether convincingly.
Ellie raised an eyebrow. ‘Come on, I want to know.’
‘No, you don’t.’
‘Let’s have it out. Here. Clear the air. It’s been hanging over us for, what . . . twenty-eight years?’
They were approaching a small village and Abby slowed the car. ‘I think we should get some food,’ she said as they passed a bakery. She turned into a side road and parked up. Without waiting for Ellie, she got out of the car.
Ellie exhaled, exasperated. She waited, drumming her fingers on the dashboard until Abby came back around the corner, hands clutching full paper bags and a bottle of water under each arm.
‘Here,’ said Abby, handing over one of the bags.
The smell coming from inside was intoxicating, but Ellie snatched both bags from Abby and held them out of reach.
‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘Not until you tell me.’
Abby laughed, unsure. ‘Are you serious?’
Ellie moved the bags even further away.
‘OK . . .’ said Abby. ‘Well, sometimes I used to pretend the milk you were pouring on your cornflakes was bleach. Then you’d die and be out of the way and Mum would finally pay me some attention.’