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PROLOGUE
Ten years ago...
BEATRICEDIDNOTarrive at the convent unannounced.
It had taken her a long time, not only to save the airfare from London, but to receive a response to her repeated requests to meet with the Reverend Mother. She had been told her journey was unnecessary and that there was nothing more she could be told regarding her circumstances...
As she walked up the hill for her midday interview, Beatrice consoled herself with the fact that even if there was nothing more to glean about her mother then she would find out about her dear friend.
They had been abandoned three weeks apart and had been as different as two babies—and later two children—could be.
Alicia, dark and vibrant; Beatrice her pale, timid shadow.
They had been such unlikely friends. Yet, for whatever reason, Alicia had taken a battering ram to her heart and insisted they were better than friends—more than sisters, even. In fact, she’d often declared, they were twins!
Aged eleven, Beatrice had been awarded a scholarship and sent to an esteemed boarding school in Milan. Beatrice had shivered in terror, but Alicia had tried to be brave, and they had sworn to stay in touch. Alicia had even told her to work hard and get a good job so they could be flatmates someday.
It had been a glimpse of the future that Beatrice had held on to. The scariest part of being abandoned had always been the thought of what might come after they left the convent gates—but they would have each other.
Alicia had barely been able to read, certainly hadn’t been able to write, but it hadn’t deterred Beatrice—she had written regularly. And then, just as she’d got her bearings in Milan, she’d been sent to a small abbey in Switzerland for language immersion. There had been no other children and certainly no teenagers or any chance of making friends there. The order had been strict, but occasionally she’d be granted permission to call the convent in Trebordi. To no avail. They’d never brought Alicia to the phone, saying she was in prayers, or with friends, or in detention.
Any excuse.
Alicia had always tended towards melodrama, and Beatrice had guessed they didn’t want to deal with the upset her phone calls might cause. She’d begun to wonder if Alicia had even received her letters, and had vowed to return in person as soon as she could afford to do so.
Her final two years of school had been in England, where she’d been labelled standoffish rather than shy. Aloof. Cold.
It had been the same in her first year of university...
While her English was excellent, in those first getting-to-know-you exchanges Beatrice had always remained a beat behind. Her sense of humour had been lacking, and sarcasm truly wasted on her—by the time she’d worked out that people were joking it was too late.
She hadn’t been able to get past even the first questions—Where are you from...? What do your family do...?
She walked on and lingered at the baby door, where she had been left as a newborn some nineteen years ago. She thought of her mother’s fear and loneliness. She too had grown up feeling exactly that.
Scared.
Lonely.
She’d had Alicia though, Beatrice reminded herself.
Having rung the bell at the gates, she smiled, a little bemused, when it was Reverend Mother herself who came to let her in.
‘I’m so excited to be back...’ Her words, for once, tumbled out. Beatrice felt the heat on her cheeks and the glow in her heart as she walked the familiar path to the convent.
‘What time is your train?’ Reverend Mother asked, walking briskly. ‘You are going back to England tonight, yes?’
‘Oh, no, I’m planning to stay in Trebordi for a week or two,’ Beatrice replied, hoping Reverend Mother might extend an invitation.
As they climbed the stairs to her office, Beatrice found out that was not to be.
‘We cannot have all the children we’ve ever cared for using the place as a hostel...’ She was terse, but softened it with a smile. ‘I have to be like a cat,’ she explained. ‘I am kind to the kittens, but soon it is time to stand back and allow them independence—force it at times.’
‘Iamindependent, Reverend Mother.’
‘You are on a full scholarship at university?’
‘I am.’ Beatrice felt a little insulted, but was unable to show it. While grateful for the scholarship, she had worked hard for it. Still worked hard. She’d found a job at a chemist’s in England, and now... ‘I work as a translator in a hospital in the evenings and at weekends.’
