The Secrets of Villa Rosso Read online

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  HarperImpulse

  an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

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  www.harpercollins.co.uk

  First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2017

  Copyright © Linn B. Halton 2017

  Cover illustration © Shutterstock.com

  Cover design © Books Covered 2017

  Linn B. Halton asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

  A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

  Source ISBN: 9780008261283

  Ebook Edition © July 2017 ISBN: 9780008261276

  Version: 2017-07-03

  Dedication

  When you have an idea that is like a tiny seed in the back of your head, you dash off some words knowing that one day the story will begin to make itself known to you. That ‘one day’ turned out to be three years later.

  I have to thank my lovely husband, Lawrence, for being instrumental in helping me to find the perfect setting in which to unravel Ellie’s tale. Once I had that, the words just flowed until I found myself writing The End.

  Over the years we have always found the Italian people to be so very warm and welcoming. The scenery is out of this world and I can still close my eyes and spirit myself away to some memorable evenings dining al fresco, accompanied by the sounds of the singing cicadas.

  Love you always and forever.

  ‘Each life is unique: a series of events on a time line over which you have absolutely no control. You struggle through the low points as best you can and celebrate the highs to remind yourself how good life can be when fate is being kind.

  But when I look around at everyone else, it has become clear that my life is a little different. It wasn’t always that way and the question I want to ask the universe is, why me?’

  Ellie Maddison

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  Our Nineteenth Wedding Anniversary

  Chapter 1

  In the Beginning

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Rewind One Year and Five Days

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Present Day: One Month After Our Nineteenth Wedding Anniversary

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Also by Linn B. Halton

  About the Publisher

  Two lives. The problem? There is only me.

  OUR NINETEENTH WEDDING ANNIVERSARY

  Chapter 1

  Staring back at me from the crystal ball cradled within my hands is the mirror image of a foetus. Then I realise it isn’t one but two little beings facing each other. The picture is so unexpected that my arms begin to tremble and I almost drop the heavy sphere. Their umbilical cords are still attached and my eyes seek out every little detail, wondering why this is being shown to me. The little faces suddenly become animated and I can see their mouths moving as they talk to each other. Surreal doesn’t even begin to describe the feeling that overcomes me and I barely register that I’m no longer alone, until a familiar voice breaks the silence.

  ‘Oh, Ellie, you’ve found my crystal ball! It doesn’t work; no one has ever seen anything in it. I was told it belonged to a famous medium, but it’s going to end up being a very expensive ornament.’ My boss and best friend’s voice reflects amusement as our eyes meet. Stunned, I have to compose myself before I can return her casual smile and make light of the moment.

  Livvie is completely unaware of the images I’m holding within my hands. As I look away from her I glance down once more. It’s only then that I notice that the two little babies are actually divided, within the globe, by a glass wall. A significant detail I nearly missed, which makes my heart race. I feel as if I’m being given a message, but I have no idea at all what it means. Or maybe I’m a desperate woman in search of peace and normality, looking for answers to a problem which has become almost too much to bear.

  I replace the globe on the aged, wooden stand and a sudden chill sends a tremor through me. Livvie is already making her way back out through the house to the patio, where the party is in full swing. I follow in her footsteps, angry with myself and wondering why on earth I’d picked the damned thing up in the first place. Had it been calling out to me?

  ‘There you are. I’ve missed you.’ Josh wraps a comforting arm around my waist and passes me a cocktail. ‘The ice has already begun to melt; you said you’d only be a minute. You nearly missed your own toast. To us, darling!’

  He holds his glass aloft and everyone steps forward to chink glasses.

  ‘To Josh and Ellie on their nineteenth wedding anniversary. You guys remind us all that true love really does last forever.’

  Livvie’s toast is from the heart and maybe for a moment she’s wondering if she’ll ever find a Mr Right. I suspect the thought is only a fleeting one, though.

  I look up at Josh, trying hard to stop my face from reflecting the rush of emotions those pale-grey eyes always stir within me. That familiar tousled, brown hair frames the face I know so well, partly obscuring the birthmark on his cheek. I call it his ‘kiss from an angel’ and that always makes him smile.

  All I ever longed for was to love and be loved, and when Livvie introduced me to Josh, one tiny moment in time changed my whole life forever. He was, and is, my Prince Charming. I remember it as if it were only yesterday, wondering how nineteen years could have passed by at such a frightening speed and deposited us here. Where did all those days go? And why did my wonderful life have to be turned upside down?

  IN THE BEGINNING

  Chapter 2

  The first time I found myself face to face with Josh it ignited a spark that put everything else in the shade. More imp
ortant, even, than the moment we first said ‘I love you’ to each other, because at that point we already knew in our hearts it was a done deal. We just hadn’t spoken the words out loud, as if it was tempting fate and something might happen to spoil our happiness. By then we were living together, but our first trip to Paris took our relationship to a whole new level.

  ~

  ‘Ellie, head for that one.’ Josh tilted his head and I followed his gaze. Then I sprinted ahead. Pulling open the taxi door I threw my bag in first and leapt in after it, sliding across the back seat to make room for Josh. He bundled in behind me, forcing the large holdall onto our laps.

  We started to laugh, nervous relief taking over as the driver waited patiently to hear our destination.

  ‘English?’ Josh enquired, hopefully,

  ‘Non. A leetle, meybee.’ The driver shrugged his shoulders.

  ‘Désolé, j’ai l’adresse quelque part.’ It was a brave attempt on Josh’s part and I gave him an encouraging smile.

  After much fumbling in pockets, Josh finally held up his hand, thrusting a piece of paper bearing the address of our hotel across to the driver, who nodded. Settling back in our seats, the car sped along avenues and over crossroads, cutting down side streets. We stared in awe at the tantalising glimpses of Parisian life, seen up close for the first time. The driver’s hand seemed to be constantly on the horn as he kept up a low mumble of complaint. When he dropped us off we had no idea how much he was asking for and Josh had bravely stuffed a note into his hand. The driver’s face broke out into a small smile and we guessed that Josh had given him a big tip. He rammed the car into gear and sped away in haste, no doubt worried Josh would change his mind.

  Standing on the kerb outside that hotel, Josh pulled me into his arms and lifted me high into the air. Spinning me around until my head became dizzy, I knew I was completely safe in his grasp.

  ‘We’re here! I love you so much, Ellie, and we’re going to have a fabulous time.’

  As I looked down at his face I could see an expression of pure joy. Nothing could dent or spoil the exhilaration of being in the city of lovers.

  When we unlocked the door to our room, the acrid smell of fresh paint and new carpet was unexpected. The room had been cleansed of any memories and was like a blank page in a book that had been waiting for us to begin writing a new chapter in it. Did Paris realise that something very special was about to happen?

  The ornately carved French doors opened out onto a tiny balcony. They were open to air the room and the summer breeze was playing with the curtains, wafting them gently back and forth. As the deliciously cool air circulated around the room, it carried with it the tantalising smell of freshly baked bread from the hotel kitchens below. I can clearly recall the murmur of distant traffic and voices trilling in the background. It served to remind us how decadent it was to be lying in bed making love on that warm summer’s afternoon.

  Even now, all these years later, I can still close my eyes and recapture the magic of those passionate and thrilling days together in Paris. The smell of summer had been heady and the playful breeze had made my skin cool to the touch, a pleasant sensation after the warmth our bodies had created. I clearly remember looking at Josh as he lay sprawled across the bed diagonally, looking deliciously sexy. I wanted to squeal with joy, ‘You’re mine and I’m yours!’

  It was the moment when I knew I had nothing to fear. I could trust Josh with everything – my heart, my innermost thoughts – the real me that I often kept hidden. In return he was prepared to lay bare his own emotions. That was when I knew beyond any shadow of a doubt that we were soul mates.

  However, that was a time when I truly believed you could have only one soul mate. I was young and naive, assuming that those blessed with that one-in-a-million connection had been chosen and it was destiny. Nothing could hinder the plan that life had laid out for me and that was the first glimpse of my future. A surge of power coursed through me, as if nothing could touch us because it was meant to be. Together we were one, cocooned by the strength of our love.

  ~

  The balcony looked out over the Cimetière de Montmartre. It sounds grim, but walking among the graves and tombstones later that day we didn’t sense death, but the perpetuity of life. A reminder that we each add something to future generations who share the same genes. It signalled a prelude to new beginnings and the knowledge that we would both have a hand in shaping our future.

  Life was heady and intoxicating as each new, shared discovery served to confirm that we were made for each other. Moving in together had been a big step in the eyes of our respective families, but for us it was simply the next step.

  And afternoon love in that wonderful little room in Paris, fresh and crisp from the refurbishment, gave an air of newness to everything. Like a dream, time seemed to slow down and each second became meaningful, rather than merely one brief moment ticking by.

  Always foot-weary, we were glad to go back to the hotel to avoid the midday sun, arms full of sun-ripened fruit, croissants and French pastries. Decadent food for decadent afternoons.

  Our walks took us to the artists’ quarter of Montmartre, where we watched the painters effortlessly recreating every imaginable scene. From a beautiful vista of lush meadows filled with wheat and poppies, to a drawing of a peasant enjoying a rustic meal outside a humble dwelling. The sights, sounds and smells were an experience in themselves as we walked along arm in arm.

  We mocked each other as we struggled to speak the language with an air of confidence. Our poor attempts to imitate that smooth, low and amazingly sexy French drawl were met with raised eyebrows that made us laugh even more. The people we met warmed to us, as they do to all young couples who are so obviously in love.

  Vivid in my memory, still, is the evening we walked from the hotel up to the Basilique du Sacré-Cœur. Churches had always fascinated me, but I wasn’t sure whether Josh would understand that. As our pace slowed and the incline started to bite on our already tired calf muscles, there was a tangible feeling of something magical around us. Whether it was the dark, velvety-blue sky with a mass of twinkling stars surrounding us like a cloak, as we climbed higher and higher, I don’t know. Or perhaps we were simply falling under the spell of Paris. The imposing building with its huge domes that rose up before us was a stark white contrast against the heavenly background. Nothing else existed that night.

  When we finally reached the church I had to place my hand on the stonework to reassure myself it was real. There were very few people around; most were at home preparing dinner, or sitting in restaurants waiting to be served. As we entered the church itself a small group of people came hurrying towards us.

  ‘Bonsoir,’ they chorused as we passed them and continued on inside. It was deserted and serenely tranquil.

  ‘When a church is empty the space feels holy, truly hallowed ground. It isn’t tainted by the negativity of people, or the games they play and the lies they tell. It feels different, as if it has a life of its own; a shrine to the devotion and love of the craftsmen who toiled to bring the vision alive. Can you feel it too?’ I’d held my breath, as if it was a test I needed Josh to pass.

  Embarrassed and wishing I hadn’t blurted out my thoughts, I’d turned to face him. He was looking up at the tall, vaulted ceiling, his head tipped back. He made no move to speak and we stood side by side, entranced as we took in the grandeur and magnificence of the building.

  ‘It has to be a church wedding. It feels right,’ he said suddenly, turning slightly to look down into my eyes.

  ‘A church wedding?’ I repeated, my heart pounding so loudly, the colour started to rise in my cheeks.

  ‘I love you and I know nothing will ever come between us. But I’d forgotten about the sense of history and tradition churches hold within their walls. That’s what I want for us on our wedding day.’

  I was stunned and could not speak. We were both overwhelmed by a mystical sense of presence, endorsement and destiny. Josh amazed me. Not on
ly did he understand, but he was prepared to open himself up, despite the very natural feeling of vulnerability I saw reflected in his eyes. We’d hugged each other so tightly it hurt, relishing what we knew was a special moment.

  Touring the building in a comfortable silence, we stopped to read the inscriptions on the plaques and carved stone memorials. It seemed fitting to offer up our silence as a mark of respect to those who had gone before. We didn’t break it until we were, once more, outside under the inky blackness of the late-evening sky.

  ‘Food, wine and music I think!’ Josh had exclaimed, squeezing my hand lovingly. ‘The world is ours.’

  I laughed, stealing a moment to glimpse back over my shoulder and grab one final glance at the Sacré-Cœur. I knew I was imprinting the moment on my mind forever.

  ‘It looks like a wedding cake,’ I whispered.

  ‘It’s a sign,’ Josh laughed, then covered my face in soft little kisses.

  ‘It looks unreal and yet we’re here, up close.’

  ‘Well, I’m glad you made me take the climb.’ He began humming an old French song we’d heard earlier in the day. He started to sway, grabbing my hand and raising it above my head to twirl me around. And then he dropped down onto one knee and, with a tremor in his voice, he said the words. ‘Marry me, Ellie.’