Except Abby knew she wasn’t. In fact, if she hadn’t walked in on them at that exact moment, she would have known nothing about it.
‘I’ll check my diary,’ she lied, ‘but I do think March is quite full . . . a new contract we’re negotiating.’
Ellie smiled. ‘You see, always working. You should take a break every now and then.’
‘You’re right,’ said Abby. Suddenly she thought she was going to burst into tears. It shocked her. She made some excuse and went into the living room where she made a gargantuan effort not to cry. It was too shameful, too weak. She couldn’t let them see how upset she was.
Ellie and Mum. Mum and Ellie. That was how it had always been. It was lonely being the third wheel of the family. What had her sister got that had made their mother fall in love with her, right from as early as Abby could remember? Abby knew that whenever Ellie walked in the door, her mother’s face lit up like the golden star on top of the Christmas tree, and no matter how long she lived, nor what she did, Abby knew she would never, ever have that same impact.
She got through the rest of the day as best she could and left early the next morning. As she sat on the train home, she realized she hadn’t sorted the dinner date with Ellie.
ONE
Nineteen months later
As the taxi climbed into the wooded hills just outside Portoferraio, Ellie stared out of the window, wrestling with what she could see. This Italian jewel of an island – still green even though it was nearly the end of July, where she could glimpse the glittering Tyrrhenian Sea through palms and pines – this was where she would be spending the next six weeks in a rare break from her relentlessly demanding job as a teaching assistant for rowdy adolescents. A job that had morphed into actually taking the responsibility for teaching them, as the usual staff member had been signed off indefinitely with stress. This place was a paradise and would be a balm to soothe her overburdened mind and soul, six weeks of utter escapism, if only one thing wasn’t bugging her: this was where her sister now spent the entire fifty-two weeks of her year. Because Abby had moved to the island of Elba, just off the coast of Tuscany, three months ago. She had, in fact, retired here.
Retired. Just thinking the word made Ellie’s insides ripple with resentment. Abby could now live her life as she chose, never work again, frolic in the sunshine – what was it she said she’d recently taken up? Paddle-boarding, that was it. She could drift carefree across that sparkling sea for the next forty-odd years if she so wanted because Abby had achieved something remarkable: she had retired at the age of thirty-six.
Ellie would be thirty-six herself in three years’ time but the notion of retirement made her laugh out loud – bitterly and with a sense that she still had three decades of a jail sentence to see out.
The taxi wound its way into a pretty medieval village where cats basked on flagstones and the elderly cackled into their espressos as they sat outside a cafe. The smell of thyme and broom drifted through the open window. And the light! It seemed to cast a spell over everything, rendering her speechless with its beauty. Ellie had recently tried to introduce some romance into her Year Eights’ geography lesson, telling them the legend of Venus, who had risen from the waves, causing seven precious stones to fall from her tiara, which tumbled into the sea to create the seven islands off the Tuscan coast. Which one was Elba? she wondered. The forest gleam of an emerald? The deep azure of a sapphire? Or a perfectly cut diamond that reflected a kaleidoscope of colours?
They pulled up outside a villa and Ellie sat up. So this was Abby’s house. It wasn’t palatial, and it didn’t draw much attention in looks. Ellie had pictured something resembling holiday-brochure utopia. She should have known better; Abby was never one to splash the cash. In fact, this house seemed modest, ordinary even, with just a few token decorations. Two small pots either side of the front door held a single red geranium plant each, and an apricot bougainvillea blended humbly into the ochre walls. This was where Abby lived with her new husband, whom Ellie had never met.
The front door opened and Abby appeared, hand raised to shade her eyes from the sun. Ellie hadn’t seen her for nineteen months but nothing had changed. She still wore the same old faded denim skirt she’d had for a decade, topped by a cheap T-shirt.
Ellie got out of the car and took her suitcase from the driver as he heaved it out of the boot. Once she’d paid him, she turned to face her sister properly. The last time they’d seen each other, tensions had been high. Now they had a chance to start again. Time to form a proper sisterly bond.
TWO
Abby watched as her younger sister stepped out of the cab. The sun was directly behind Ellie and lit up her long, wavy blonde hair, making it glow as it caught in the breeze. Her legs were visible through her white summer dress, the sun outlining their length and shapeliness. Abby shielded her eyes, noting the admiring look the taxi driver cast in Ellie’s direction, feeling the familiar tug of inferiority. She self-consciously touched her own mousy, straight hair, surreptitiously tried to fluff out its thinness, an automatic tic that had begun in childhood.
Ellie was walking towards her then and Abby smiled broadly. At the threshold, both sisters stood for a moment before going in for an air kiss, with a light brush of a hand on a shoulder.
‘Come in,’ said Abby, leading Ellie through the hall into the kitchen. ‘Would you like a drink?’ she asked, opening the fridge and pulling out a bottle of local lemonade. She’d bought it specially, thinking Ellie would like it.
Ellie nodded. ‘Thank you.’
‘Good journey?’
‘Yes, fine. It’s a beautiful island,’ she declared generously.
Abby smiled. As she poured some lemonade into three glasses, she heard the thunder of bare feet come running down the stairs.
‘Ciao! Benvenuta!’ exclaimed her husband as he entered the room, immediately clasping Ellie on her upper arms and kissing her on both cheeks. Abby couldn’t help but notice Ellie’s instantly warm smile, saw Matteo’s fingers on her sister’s bare skin. Her husband still had that ‘just woken up’ look about him as he’d been on shift the previous night. He’d thrown on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, the only thing he ever wore when he was out of his police uniform, and his clothes emphasized his tanned, muscular arms and thighs. He was one of those lucky people who were effortlessly sexy. Bit like my sister, she thought.
She handed her husband and sister a glass of lemonade and lifted her own. ‘I’m really glad you could come,’ she said to Ellie, thinking she ought to say something welcoming and polite.
‘Thanks for inviting me.’
‘To the holidays!’ said Matteo enthusiastically, and they all clinked glasses and laughed.
Abby saw Ellie’s eyes slide across to the kitchen wall tiles, a quizzical look appearing on her sister’s face at the squares of wafer-thin plastic hanging off them. They looked like strange, peeling layers, as if the tiles were shedding a clear skin.
‘Cling film,’ said Matteo, amused. ‘Abby thinks we should reuse it. So she washes it and sticks it on the tiles to dry.’
And why not? thought Abby. There’s nothing wrong with the cling film, so why not save money?