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‘We already have the limo and the convertible here. I can’t see any need to keep another car at this property.’
‘I’m not asking for anything flashy,’ Chloe said, ‘just a cheap second-hand car. But if you won’t get me one, I can take the convertible.’
A flash of irritation passed across Lorenzo’s features.
‘That is a powerful vehicle—dangerous if you’re not used to driving it,’ he said.
‘Worried I’ll drive your precious car into a ditch?’ she said sarcastically. ‘I do know how to drive.’
‘I’m not worried you’ll drive into a ditch,’ Lorenzo grated. ‘I’m afraid you’ll go right through the hedge—or wrap it around a tree.’
‘Well, buy me a little run-around. I need to go back to the cottage before the lease runs out.’
‘I’ll take you—in fact we’ll go together right now,’ Lorenzo said.
‘I want to go on my own,’ Chloe replied, looking down at the baby in her arms. ‘It’s personal.’
‘If you don’t want my company, the driver will take you,’ Lorenzo said stiffly. ‘He will have instructions to wait for you outside until you are done.’
Then he turned and walked away along the gravel path.
The following morning Chloe stood at the window, watching the limousine drive away through the wrought-iron gates. Lorenzo had a business meeting in London, and Chloe assumed he intended to utilise the travelling time working on his laptop in the back of the limo.
She frowned, thinking that this was another day gone by when she couldn’t go back to Liz’s cottage. If she didn’t go soon, she wouldn’t have another chance. Gladys, Liz’s kindly neighbour, would have had to return the keys to the letting agency.
Gladys had already been in and cleared the few remaining things that Chloe had left behind when Lorenzo whisked her away so suddenly. There had not been much to do—they’d already taken care of nearly everything in those heartbreakingly hollow days before the funeral.
But Chloe still had to pick up a box of letters and mementoes that Liz had packed for Emma before her illness had progressed too far.
‘Let’s go and get you some breakfast,’ she said, scooping Emma up from where she was playing
happily in her cot. ‘Then we’ll think of something to do today.’
But as soon as she’d spoken a plan was already forming in her mind. She would take the convertible and drive herself to the village. Lorenzo didn’t need it that day—and, more importantly, he wasn’t there to stop her going.
‘Chloe!’ Gladys exclaimed as she opened the front door of her cottage. ‘What a lovely surprise. Oh, look how much Emma has grown! And you’re looking well too. Come in—come in for a cup of tea, and tell me what you’ve been doing with yourself.’
‘It’s lovely to see you, too,’ Chloe said, giving Gladys a hug. Then she followed her into her cheery front room, which was full of knick-knacks and drawings done by her many grandchildren.
‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ Gladys said. ‘Then you can tell me everything.’
Half an hour later Chloe gave the old lady another hug and stepped back out onto the street, carrying a sleeping Emma in her portable car seat.
‘It’s been lovely to see you,’ Gladys said warmly. ‘I wish we had longer to catch up, but I’ve got to pop out now. If I’m not back when you’re ready to go—just put the key through the letterbox. And promise to come back and see me soon.’
‘I will,’ Chloe assured her. ‘Thank you for the tea.’
Chloe hugged the old lady one more time and went next door to Liz’s cottage, carrying Emma extra-carefully to avoid waking her up. As she opened the front door the familiar scent of Liz’s essential-oil burner wafted over her, sending her straight back to the time she had lived there with her friend.
She sat down on the sofa and pulled Liz’s box of memories close to her. Up until that moment she hadn’t had the heart to open it. But now she realised that she should do it here—where she had shared Liz’s last few months.
She lifted the lid gingerly, and right on the top was an envelope addressed to her in Liz’s handwriting. Her heart constricted and her hand was shaking as she lifted the letter. It was not a long letter, and the handwriting was spidery, as if Liz had struggled to find the physical strength to write it.
Dear Chloe
You have always been my best friend, and it has meant so much to me having you with me these last few months.
You are a wonderful person, with a kind, true heart, and I wish you only the best in life.
