Page 2 of Winter With You

In seconds they were piling into the back of the cab and, without Gabriella having to say anything, the driver was already foot to the gas and pulling away.

‘Phoebe, you OK?’ Gabriella asked. ‘Did they hurt you? Because we can go back if they did. I have pepper spray.’ From the confines of the back seat, Gabriella was trying to observe her niece from every angle, but Phoebe was more focussed on her things.

‘They tore my book,’ she answered, voice a little shaky. ‘Page eighty-four. I hadn’t got that far yet.’

‘It’s OK,’ Gabriella said. ‘I’ll get you another one. I’ll get you two. One for a spare.’

Phoebe shook her head. ‘You don’t understand. This one… it was one of Mum’s books.’

And that’s when Gabriella did understand. It wasn’t about the author or the story or Phoebe’s love of literature. It was about her own story. Her need to feel connected to who she was and how things used to be. Gabriella put an arm around her niece and drew her close, but immediately Phoebe stiffened then wriggled out of reach. Still, even after almost three years having passed since Lulu’s death, Phoebe wouldn’t let herself be cuddled. Gabriella adjusted herself in the seat, gave Phoebe as much space as she could. You couldn’t rush these things. People dealt with emotions differently. She should know this. She had written a book about it. Her book suggested that overall, people needed positivity. Daily mantras, a guide to healthy eating and an uplifting playlist on Spotify. Except nothing like that seemed to help Phoebe. When they had lost Lulu, her niece’s grief had been instant, the deepest darkness, visible and raw… until the funeral. After that day it was like Phoebe had tightly packaged up her emotions and put them in an inaccessible emotional basement and as hard as Gabriella tried, she wasn’t yet allowed in. But in a few days’ time, her and Phoebe would be heading across the Atlantic to New York for a promotional book tour. And, as important as this could be for Gabriella’s career, she was really hoping it would also give her and Phoebe some quality time together. An exciting location in the run-up to Christmas – it could be the path to healing, or, at the very least, a redressing of old wounds.

She watched Phoebe smoothing her fingers over the cover of the novel – The Great Gatsby. She remembered it was one of her sister’s absolute favourites. All the glamorous parties in the roaring twenties, the accurate hollow depiction of wealth…

Gabriella opened her mouth to say something, but Phoebe beat her to it.

‘Could you take the scarf off your face now? It makes you look like you’re about to commit a crime.’

Gabriella did as she asked and then Phoebe leaned a little closer. Gabriella wondered if this might be the moment where her niece finally wanted a physical connection. But then Phoebe sniffed.

‘Why do you smell of bacon?’

Luckily, before Gabriella had a chance to make any response, the taxi driver spoke. ‘So, I’m just driving north, love, you’d better tell me where it is you want to go.’

‘Bettersea,’ Gabriella and Phoebe said together.

It made them both smile and Gabriella nudged Phoebe with her elbow.

‘Where?’

‘Sorry,’ Gabriella said. ‘Battersea. It’s… kind of a joke.’ She grinned at Phoebe. ‘It’s Nine Elms Lane.’

‘Can we order boba?’ Phoebe asked. ‘Please.’

Gabriella nodded. Anything to take Phoebe’s mind off the torn book. ‘Yes, course we can.’

‘And, if you don’t mind, love, can I have my hat back?’

2

THE BRONX, NEW YORK

‘Jalapeno hot at three o’clock.’

Luca Manning diverted his gaze, trying to find the location of the item that might apply to his sister’s comment. This side of the street? He looked up and over the arching traffic lights trying to control afternoon flow. Exactly where was she looking? ‘How many times, Steffi? Jalapeno is not a colour.’

‘I said “hot” – that means red not green.’

‘How about just saying “red”?’

‘Where’s the fun in that, huh?’ Steffi gave him an elbow to the ribs. ‘Huh?’

This was a game, but Luca always took it seriously. Fashion was his thing and if he couldn’t distinguish between ‘fide’ or ‘fake’ – real designer garments versus nothing-special-to-see-here – then he shouldn’t be in his role as a stylist. Then Luca saw what his sister had wanted him to see. A woman wearing a bright red full-length coat. He didn’t hesitate. ‘Fide. It’s a Burberry Castleford.’

‘No way!’ Steffi exclaimed. ‘She’s walking around here in a coat that cost⁠—’

Luca clamped a hand over her mouth like he might be about to bundle her into a kidnapping van. ‘And we don’t want to be responsible for her being mugged for her coat, right?’

Steffi struggled under his grip and then he felt teeth.