AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘Well, we’ve still got time. I’m sure I read somewhere you can do them at night. Why don’t we do one after this?’
A while later they floated on the water, street lamps casting light onto the pale terracotta stone walls of the buildings on either side of the canal. Together they looked up at the stars. The air was cold now, kept from their bodies by a thick blanket given to them by the gondolier. The stillness in this hidden part of the city was quite magical. As they glided under a small bridge, a couple stood watching them. Flora looked up, catching the smiling woman’s eye just before they disappeared from view. She caught her breath, turning back to see. But the couple had gone.
‘That was her, Johnny,’ Flora whispered, as she craned her neck.
‘Who?’
‘The woman in the church. The one who said, “Hearts stay broken.” You remember I told you earlier?’
‘Yes, and she also said it gets easier. Don’t forget that.’ Johnny kissed Flora’s forehead.
‘But don’t you think that’s a bit of a coincidence?’ Flora looked back again but there was no sign.
‘Could be. Who knows?’ Johnny drew the blanket round them. ‘You warm enough?’
Flora hugged him tighter. ‘Venice feels like another world, far away from everything,’ she whispered.
‘It really does.’
‘When we get home, will you remind me that I felt happy again? Just in case I forget.’
Johnny took her face in his hands and kissed her gently. ‘I will, I promise.’
24
It was barely light when they made their way to the airport by taxi, crossing the bridge to the mainland. The flight back was uneventful, and Flora slept for most of it. As London came into view through the clouds, she thought of the children, of the hugs she’d give them. She smiled to herself. It had been barely forty-eight hours but she’d missed them more than she’d realised.
She glanced across at Johnny, reading a newspaper, his forehead furrowed.
‘Anything interesting?’
Johnny quickly closed and refolded the paper, putting it on his lap. ‘Oh, it’s old. Someone must have left it on here yesterday. Nothing that interesting, the usual.’
Flora felt sure something was amiss but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. ‘Can I have a look?’
‘Honestly, it’s all so depressing nowadays, you’re better off not looking.’ He went to put the paper back in the pocket of the seat in front of him.
‘Johnny, please. I’m not so bad I can’t handle reading the news. You don’t have to protect me from everything.’ She reached across and took the paper from the pocket. She hardly ever read a paper during the week any more, only the Sunday papers. Glancing at the front page she saw a picture of an ageing actor, topless in the sea on some tropical island with someone at best half his age. She turned the page and scanned the headlines, more to pass the time than for actual information.
‘What do you want to do today? I thought I’d go into the shop this afternoon; perhaps you could pick the kids up from school?’ Johnny went to take the paper from her.
‘What are you doing?’ Flora laughed, looking at Johnny. ‘Let me, for once, read a whole paper. Even if it is a bit rubbish it’s a total luxury to be able to do it without being interrupted by a child!’ She laughed and went back to the page.
‘Seriously, Flo, we need to have a plan. We’ve got things to do.’
Flora looked at him again, seeing worry on his face. ‘Johnny, what’s going on? Why are you being so weird?’
‘I’m not!’ He tried to look normal but they both knew he was failing, badly.
Flora slowly turned the page of the paper. There, looking up at her, was a familiar face. One she knew so well but couldn’t square with being there on the page. Her stomach flipped. Billy.
‘Flo…’ Johnny reached his arm across her shoulders. He spoke softly. ‘You don’t have to read it.’
She stared at the page again, her brother’s face staring out at her. She forced herself to read the words, but it was almost impossible. They rushed at her from the page out of order, out of focus. Tears clouded her sight, but slowly, she pieced it together. A picture of another man sat next to Billy’s. She wanted to look away but found she couldn’t. His name was right there. Stephen Hirst. Eighteen years old. She’d never seen this man’s face before, which had been a conscious decision she’d made when Billy died. But here he was, looking right at her. And all she could think was: you are so young.
‘Flora, why don’t you—’
‘It’s fine, Johnny, really. I want to.’ Flora didn’t look up from the page. She read on, the words hitting her like sucker punches, blow after blow, again and again.
