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Sisters(9)
Author: Michelle Frances

 

 

SEVEN


‘Ta da!’ said Susanna as she carried through plates of pasta and salad, placing them on the old table on the terrace. More wine was poured and Abby pulled in her wooden chair, bleached soft by the sun. She had made sure she was next to her husband, with Ellie opposite her. Her mother she had placed furthest away.

‘This is delicious,’ said Susanna. ‘I never knew you could cook like this, Abby.’

And yet I’m thirty-six years old, thought Abby. Time enough to have found out.

‘Matteo is a very lucky man,’ joked Susanna.

Abby’s nerves grated again. ‘We share the cooking,’ she said.

‘Ah, a thoroughly modern relationship,’ said Susanna. ‘So come on, Matteo, spill. Was it Abby’s skills in the kitchen that drew you to her?’

Matteo turned to Abby and she saw that look in his deep brown eyes, the one that made her belly fire up with warmth. If she had to describe it, it was something between pride and admiration, and it made her melt and fall in love with him all over again.

‘Actually, it was her legs,’ said Matteo.

Abby snorted and tapped him on the hand.

‘Seriously?’ asked Susanna, surprised.

Abby frowned; what did her mother mean? What was wrong with her legs?

‘I mean, she has lovely legs, bit like myself. But are you teasing me?’

‘It was in the hospital where I first fell for her. After the accident.’

‘She was a damsel in distress!’ exclaimed Susanna.

‘The nurses told me she hadn’t had any visitors . . .’

‘What, you felt sorry for me?’ asked Abby, put out.

‘Only because I knew you were in a foreign country and it would be hard for your friends and family to see you. Their loss was my gain. I faked at least one reason to have to come back and interview you.’ Matteo smiled and Abby touched his hand again. ‘Then, of course, when she went back to the UK, it was hard to get hold of her.’ Matteo turned to Ellie and Susanna. ‘She works so hard!’

Abby saw her sister paste on a polite smile.

‘Worked,’ corrected Ellie.

Matteo nodded. ‘She understands my long, erratic hours. The need to stay behind in the office every now and then to get everything prepared to catch the bad guy.’

‘So you like being a policeman?’ asked Susanna.

‘Every day is different.’

‘But come on, the proposal,’ said Susanna, tapping the table with her fingers in anticipation. ‘What made you pop the question?’

‘Mum,’ admonished Abby.

‘It’s OK,’ said Matteo. ‘I just knew she was the woman for me. With Abby, I never feel lonely. But I was worried. I never thought she’d say yes, give up her career to come out here.’

‘No, must have been hard to leave rain-soaked concrete London to move to this star-studded land,’ said Ellie dryly, waving a hand up at the night sky.

‘It’s still a big deal,’ pointed out Susanna. ‘And you, Abby?’

‘What about me?’

‘I think your mother wants to know why you decided I was the man of your dreams,’ teased Matteo.

‘I could rely on him,’ said Abby.

‘That’s not very romantic!’ exclaimed Susanna.

‘I disagree. It’s one of the most important things.’

‘I didn’t say it wasn’t important. But there’s also . . . well . . . romance.’

Matteo grinned. ‘Susanna. I am Italian.’ He waved a hand. ‘Anyway, enough about us. What about you, Ellie? Are you dating?’

Ellie placed her fork primly on her plate. ‘Not at the moment.’ She stood, started to stack the empty plates. ‘I’ll clear away,’ she said.

‘I’ll give you a hand,’ said Abby, taking some of the dishes.

Susanna went to get up as well but Matteo stopped her by pouring some more wine into her glass and insisting she stay at the table. ‘I want to know about your life back in London,’ he said. ‘Tell me about your job. Abby tells me you work in a clothes shop.’

Thank God for Matteo, thought Abby as she walked away, even though he was unaware of the favour he’d just done her. She wanted a moment alone with Ellie, something that Susanna seemed determined wasn’t going to happen.

She followed her sister into the kitchen, started to rinse the dirty plates before placing them in the dishwasher. ‘I was thinking it would be nice to go on a boat trip tomorrow. What do you think?’

Ellie handed her another plate. Shrugged. ‘Sure, why not? Mum would enjoy that too.’

‘I was thinking just you and me,’ said Abby quickly.

‘Oh. Seems a bit mean to leave Mum out?’

‘It’s not like that. I was just thinking we could go early. Before the beach. You know what Mum’s like; she doesn’t rise till mid-morning if she doesn’t have to. We’ll be back by the time she gets up.’

Ellie paused for a moment, plate mid-air. ‘OK. Why not?’

Abby smiled with relief. ‘Great! Only . . . don’t mention it, will you? Otherwise she’ll only feel like she’s obliged to come. I don’t want her to miss out on her lie-in.’

Ellie looked at her suspiciously for a moment, but Abby held her gaze and then the moment passed.

 

 

EIGHT


It had been a relief to shut the bedroom door that night. Retire to the privacy of her room with just her husband for company. Abby finished brushing her teeth and came from the en suite into the bedroom where Matteo was tidying away his police uniform – discarded in the early hours when he’d come in from his night shift. She got into bed, enjoying watching her naked husband as he went about his domestic duties. He put his jacket and trousers on a hanger, punched in the code on the safe that was in the wardrobe and put away his police-issue gun, then leaped dramatically onto the bed, making Abby smile.

‘So, finally I get to meet your family.’

Abby braced herself, waiting for criticism.

‘They’re nice,’ he said, smiling as he noticed her reticence.

‘Yeah?’

‘I think your mother believes I am some sort of hero. That you call the police and I rescue you from the big bad world.’

‘She’s just caught up in the romantic idea of it all. She’s lonely. Has been for a long time. I think all her life she’s been hankering after a strong man to look after her.’

‘Your father wasn’t that man, no?’

‘Danny? I seriously doubt it. She hardly ever talked about him, but from what I understand, he was charming but flighty. Her parents didn’t approve and when she ran off with him, they cut her off.’

Matteo turned to face her. ‘You didn’t tell your mother how it really happened that night.’

‘No . . .’

‘And your sister didn’t even know about it.’

Abby looked apologetic. When she’d spoken to Susanna about the mugging she’d deliberately underplayed it, relayed only the facts. A man had put a knife to her back; another had run off with her bag. Matteo had handled the case and he was the only person who really understood what had happened to her. ‘Thanks for not saying anything.’

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