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Flora felt a flash of anger. ‘It wasn’t up to you, Freddie. I’m a grown-up—’
The door opened behind her and, seeing the anxiety and worry on her dad’s face, she felt her anger give way to guilt.
‘Flora, darling! I was so worried about you—’
Her father pulled her into his arms and she felt a rush of love mingled with irritation as she felt his racing heartbeat. She pulled away. ‘I’m fine, Dad. I just needed to get out of the house. I took a coat and everything.’ She smiled weakly.
‘Everything except your phone,’ Freddie snapped.
‘Why would I need my phone? I was walking round the village.’ She glared at him. ‘The village we grew up in. Look, I know you both worry about me, but I’m not a child. I went to university. I’ve had jobs. And I’ve lived in a foreign country. On my own.’
Freddie snorted. ‘And look how that turned out!’
Something inside her seemed to tear apart.
Turning, she faced her brother, her teeth pressing hard against each another. ‘It turned out fine. I don’t know what you think happened out there, but I left on my terms. And I’m going back on my terms too.’
There was a short, frayed silence, and then her father said slowly, ‘Flora! I don’t understand. You can’t seriously be thinking about going back?’
‘She’s not,’ said Freddie, staring at his sister with naked frustration. ‘She’s going to stay here, where we can keep an eye on her.’
Their eyes met. Normally this was the moment when she’d back down. Even before he’d become a lawyer she hadn’t been able to fight the way her brother did. But since he’d become a barrister he was just in a different league when it came to questioning and confrontation.
‘It’s for your own good, Flora. It’s not like there aren’t orchids in England. You can easily finish your dissertation here.’
She nodded dumbly and, sensing her capitulation, he smiled. ‘It’s the right thing to do, Flossie.’ He was calming down, his voice losing that implacable force. ‘Dad and I— We’re not trying to be mean. We just don’t want to see you get hurt again. And I promise you it’s not about stopping you from doing what you want to do. If you could think of one good reason to go back to that palazzo then we wouldn’t stand in your way. But you can’t, can you?’
One good reason.
Flora stared at him in silence. She could think of one very good reason to go back to Sardinia. In fact, it wasn’t just a good reason, it was
the best reason in the world: love.
Lifting her chin, she nodded slowly. ‘Yes. I can. And that’s why I’m going back, Freddie.’ She turned to her father. ‘I know you miss Mum. I do too. And what happened to her was awful. But it happened here, because bad things happen everywhere.’
Reaching out, she took her father’s hand and then, after a moment’s hesitation, she took Freddie’s too.
‘I know you love me, and I love you both—only you can’t keep me safe and sound.’ She bit her lip. ‘But you can trust me to look after myself. I know it’s hard, and I know I haven’t always given you reason to believe me, but—’ she squeezed both their hands tightly ‘—I need to do this,’ she said firmly. ‘So, will you please let me go back?’
Slowly her father nodded, and then finally Freddie nodded too.
‘But you have to promise that you’ll call if you need us.’
She smiled weakly. ‘I’ll always need both of you. But right now someone else needs me more.’
* * *
The sun was reaching its peak in the sky, high above the palazzo. Massimo stared moodily across the terrazza. It was too hot to be inland and he’d half considered taking the yacht out. But he couldn’t bring himself to leave the house—not even for an afternoon.
He wanted to be there, just in case Flora came back. Picking up his glass of wine, he drank slowly and deliberately.
Not that there was any reason to think that she was coming back. In all honesty there was no reason to think that he would ever see her again.
It had been nearly eight days since he’d told Giorgio that he was going to find Flora. Eight days of false leads and dashed hopes. It had sounded so promising at first. He’d tracked her to Cagliari, and then over to England. But since then there had been no trace of her. She’d simply disappeared.
Lifting his gaze, he watched a jewel-bright dragonfly hover lazily above the fountain. He had been so sure he would find her. So sure he’d be able to win her back.
But now he saw that his certainty had been based solely on optimism. Not on statistical probability. After all, on a planet of six billion people, what were the odds of him finding her?
