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The children, however, had continued to amaze her with their resilience. Max had even told her to stop asking if he was all right, telling her not to worry about him. Sometimes, when she tucked them into bed at night, the twins would wonder aloud when Daddy would be back. As much as Stella wanted to tell them he’d be home soon, she caught herself and took a breath, not wanting to give them false hope. Then, as calmly as she could, she’d reply that she wasn’t sure yet, but as soon as she knew, she’d tell them. But for now, they just had to manage without him.
On the morning of their flights, Stella had dropped the children off as usual before returning home to walk Percy and make some calls while doing so. Then, sitting down at the kitchen table, she attempted to clear her inbox. She sipped at her coffee and tried to focus on the words in front of her, but, predictably, infuriatingly, Stella’s mind wandered back to Simon. Determined to get him out of her head, she shut her laptop and went upstairs to pack a suitcase. She still had a few hours until Bridget picked her up. Max was off to stay with his best friend for the weekend and Caroline had insisted she collect the girls from school, clearly thrilled at the thought of a few days in town with the twins. ‘Philip can look after the boys. I’ll take the girls to a musical or something,’ she’d said before telling Stella in her inimitable, matter-of-fact way that she simply must go and have a wonderful time and not to worry about them for a second.
Stella went upstairs and stood for a moment in the middle of their bedroom, wondering where their small suitcases were. As far as she could remember, they’d always been kept under the bed, but there was no sign. She opened her cupboard to check, knowing there wasn’t room for them given the amount of shoeboxes in there. For some reason, she was incapable of throwing away shoes, even if they hadn’t been worn for years.
She closed the doors and walked over to Simon’s wardrobe. Apart from that first afternoon when she’d pulled at whatever she could find, she’d barely been able to look at anything of his without feeling either sick, angry or both.
Stella took a breath and opened the doors, her stomach flipping over on itself at the sight of his clothes hanging as if nothing had happened. Stella spotted one of her favourite pairs of his shoes on the rack below the clothes, conker-brown brogues he’d worn when they’d first met. It was so strange to see all his clothes still there, like props left behind after a play had ended its run.
Stella looked up at the shelf above, spying what she was looking for, a small black case that she’d sometimes pinch back when they used to have the odd weekend away. Technically it was Simon’s, but she liked the size of it, perfect for carrying on to a plane.
Using the stool from her dressing table, Stella climbed up and reached for the case, pulling it down and throwing it onto the bed. She opened it and smoothed down the fabric inside, trying to concentrate on what she needed to pack. According to the group, the weather in Florence was going to be ideal, warm but not yet hot. She grabbed some underwear, socks, a couple of loose cotton shirts, a pair of cropped trousers and a couple of her favourite summer dresses. She added a pair of sandals to the suitcase, threw in her washbag, taking out the liquids, and squashed it on top.
Just before closing it, Stella turned and grabbed her favourite long cashmere wrap from the shelf. She laid it across the rest of the clothes and pushed down on the lid of the case again to do up the zip. As she did so, she felt the outline of something small and square in the front pocket of the case. Opening the zip of the pocket, she reached inside and pulled out an old brown leather wallet. Thinking it must have been left there since Simon’s last trip, she opened it up to see if there was anything still inside. Just as she’d expected, the wallet was now empty, though the shape hinted that it had at some point clearly been put to good use.
Stella opened it out fully, peering into the pocket at the back where banknotes must have once been. Again, empty. She went to close the wallet, wondering just how old it was, when she spied a tiny speck of white paper tucked down to one side. Reaching in, she slowly pulled out the scrap, taking care not to rip it as she did. Holding it in her fingers, Stella wondered just how long it might have been sitting there, hidden away. Putting the wallet down, she carefully unfolded the paper. Two sides had straight edges, the third was ripped. Realising it was the corner of a newspaper page – she could tell from the texture, though there was no date, annoyingly – she peered at the name and number written in small letters in faded black ink. It read: Emily Parker. Underneath was a number, an old landline number, Stella guessed, although it didn’t look like one from anywhere she knew.
Stella sat on the edge of the bed, still holding the scrap of paper carefully in her fingers. She racked her brain, trying to recall whether she’d heard that name before, while pretty sure it was completely new to her. Stella looked at the writing again, as if searching for a clue about the person who wrote it. The handwriting was neat and deliberate, not at all like Simon’s scrawl. What secrets did Emily Parker hold?
She reached across and grabbed the phone from beside the bed. Holding the handset in her hand, she punched at the numbers on the piece of paper in front of her. Her heart raced in her chest and for an agonising few seconds Stella braced herself, though she didn’t know what for. Then a noise came down the line, so loud in Stella’s ear she almost dropped the phone, a long flat tone telling her the number didn’t exist.
Dropping the handset into her lap, Stella gently shook her head, laughing to herself a little as she did. Had she really expected to find the answers she so was so desperate for from a stranger in one phone call?
She looked around the room, then flew downstairs to the kitchen and took a seat at the table, opening her laptop as she did so. Typing the name into the search bar, she waited to see what the internet would throw up. Soon, the screen was full of Emily Parkers, most of them far younger than Stella. She started clicking on some of the profiles, desperate to find a link to Simon. Over and over again, she clicked on a stranger’s face, only to be led down a rabbit hole of more people she neither knew nor recognised.
It wasn’t until the doorbell went that she glanced at the time and realised it was after midday. She’d been sitting at her laptop for over two hours.
Stella went to the door, hearing Bridget’s voice before she got there.
‘You’re early!’ Stella couldn’t hide the surprise from her voice. She glanced at her face in the mirror, slightly appalled by the dishevelled person looking back at her.
'I know, bit overexcited. Thought I’d come early and give you a hand.’ Bridget walked past Stella into the kitchen and sat down at the kitchen table, looking Stella up and down. ‘I assume you’re going to get dressed properly before we go on our mini-break to one of the most beautiful places in the world?’ She turned and squinted at the screen in front of her. ‘Who’s Emily Parker?’
Stella swiftly shut the laptop and scooped it up, along with the small brown wallet beside it. ‘Oh, it’s a work thing.’ She knew telling Bridget now would mean a cross-examination and, given she didn’t yet have any answers, she decided it was better to wait before telling her friend. ‘I’m just going to go and finish packing, won’t be long. Help yourself to coffee, you know where everything is.’
Stella went upstairs and put the wallet in her bedside drawer, deciding that whatever secrets Emily’s name might hold, they’d just have to wait until after Florence.
* * *
Twenty minutes later, Stella’s packed bag sat at the bottom of the stairs. Percy was sulking in his basket in the corner of the kitchen, having spied the bag, refusing to make eye contact with Stella as she gave the kitchen one last look over.
The doorbell rang on the dot of 2 p.m. Lucy’s voice came through the letterbox. ‘Hey, you ready?’
Stella bent down and ruffled the dog’s neck as she passed him. ‘Oh, Percy. You’re making me feel guilty. I’ll be back in a few days, I promise.’ He looked up at her with his enormous soulful eyes, then quickly looked away before laying his head down once more with a long sigh.
She opened the door to find Lucy and Sarah waiting for her, huge smiles on their faces.
‘Ready.’ Stella smiled back and, for the first time in what felt like forever, was actually looking forward to what the next few days might bring. She’d not given the trip much thought until now and realised she didn’t even know where they were staying. Of course, she’d offered to help, but the others had insisted on making the arrangements. As they piled into the car and made their way to the airport, the sound of chatter filling the air, Stella felt her body relax a little.
‘Will we be there in time for dinner?’ asked Sarah.
‘I should think so, the flight’s only a couple of hours,’ said Bridget. ‘Lucy, you’re in charge of finding us somewhere to eat, given you know the city best.’
‘But that trip was years ago!’ She’d visited Florence as a teenager with her family on holiday. ‘I really can’t remember very much about it. We did get dragged around the museums, but I remember being more interested in the ice cream, to be honest.’
‘I’m thinking double scoops, twice a day. At least.’ Sarah laughed.
‘I’ve got a couple of recommendations from one of my authors on where to go to find good restaurants.’ Lucy scrambled around in her bag for her phone. ‘I’ve written them in my notes somewhere.’
