The Mermaid Garden

by Santa Montefiore

  I gather Beach Compton is on the sea. I hope you are able to make a fresh start there. Miss Bridges is a kind and godly woman, who I’m sure is taking good care of you. You have great inner strength and a strong, solid faith. Keep God in your sight and in your heart, and you will put this all behind you.

  As for me

  He had stopped there. Only now did she understand the lengths that Father Ascanio had gone to in order to save her. He had sent her son to his own brother in Argentina, the only person he trusted to look after him properly. He couldn’t have found a better home had he scoured the earth for one. He had put his own life at risk. Now she knew why: for love.

  She closed the letter and replaced it in the envelope, saddened that Father Ascanio was no longer alive so that she could thank him. Then she took the bundle of letters Costanza had written and read them one by one, surprised by the extent to which her heart ached for her old friend.

  The following morning Harvey appeared at the Polzanze. While Dante breakfasted in the dining room with Grey, Clementine, and Rafa, Marina summoned him into her office.

  “I need to talk to you, Harvey,” she said solemnly.

  “Is everything all right?”

  “I think you should sit down.” She perched on the armchair and watched him sink into the sofa, her old friend and confidant, the man who had been almost a father to her. She couldn’t believe he was capable of lying. She wanted him to explain it all away. She was ready to believe any excuse he tossed her.

  “I tried to call you yesterday at the nursing home.”

  He looked surprised. “You did?”

  “They said they had never heard of a Mrs. Dovecote.”

  “You must have got the wrong home.”

  “No, Harvey. I know.” She gazed at him sadly.

  He averted his eyes. “What do you know?” But she could tell from his grave features that he realized he had been found out.

  “I know about your shed.” She lowered her voice. “You’re Baffles, or Raffles, or whatever you call yourself. Harvey, how could you lie to me?”

  He turned to her, his face full of remorse. “I did it for you, Marina, for the Polzanze. When I saw you were in real danger of losing it, I decided I had to do something to help. I know how much this place means to you. I feared if you lost it, you’d lose your mind.”

  “Oh, Harvey.”

  He shrugged. “So, I got a little carried away.”

  “A little?”

  “The Jag was secondhand. I got it for peanuts.”

  “Do you even have a nephew?”

  He shook his head.

  “Or a mother?”

  “No, she died years ago.”

  “But, Harvey, you could go to prison for this.”

  “I thought I’d only do it once. But it was too easy. So I did it again … and again. I admit it was fun. Macavity the Mystery Cat. I defied them all.” He grinned roguishly. “It gave me a buzz to think of buying you out of your problems. Old Harvey, creeping into people’s properties like James Bond.”

  “Or Raffles.”

  “I’ve always loved those novels. It began as a game.”

  “But the game has gone too far.”

  He looked at her wretchedly. “What are you going to do, Marina?”

  “I should call the police.”

  “But you wouldn’t turn in an old codger, would you? I’ll die in there.”

  Marina stiffened her jaw and lifted her chin. The thought of being without Harvey caused something to twist painfully inside her chest. She stood up and walked over to the window. She had lost too much in her life to suffer losing him. “I won’t turn you in, Harvey. But on one condition.”

  “What’s that? I’ll do anything.”

  “You have to give it all back.” His mouth opened in a silent gasp. “If it was so easy, you can do it again. It has to go back, all of it.”

  “But what about the Polzanze?”

  “Ah, yes, you don’t know, do you?” She sat down again. “A lot has happened since you’ve been away. Goodness, where do I start?”

  37.

  Sylvia sat at her desk and gazed forlornly at the empty chair beside her. Clementine had come into the office on August 31 to pack up her things and say good-bye, which had been the arrangement from the beginning, as Polly was due back from maternity leave on September 1. Only now, none of them wanted her to go. She had turned out to be the most efficient secretary—and a good friend to Sylvia. Mr. Atwood had offered her an obscene amount of money to stay on, but she had declined. After all, what sort of woman would put money above a six-month trip around South America with the man of her dreams?

  Sylvia was surprised that Mrs. Atwood hadn’t issued her husband with divorce papers. She wondered what sort of deal they had struck. Perhaps he had promised to don his robber suit for her. Maybe his wife was more game than he had thought. How many other guises did he assume? Those thoughts made Sylvia smile through those days when she missed Clementine.

  Autumn had crept upon them without the slightest warning, because frankly, it had felt like autumn for the whole of July and August with the dampest skies and persistent drizzle. Polly had returned, unable to say a single sentence without squeezing her little girl into it somewhere. It was Doodlums this and Doodlums that, and Sylvia couldn’t understand why she couldn’t use her daughter’s proper name, Esme, which was really very nice.

  Clementine had looked radiantly happy. Sylvia hadn’t felt jealous, because jealous implies resentment and Sylvia couldn’t ever feel resentful towards Clementine, but she felt something close to envy. Not only did love make Clementine look prettier, it also gave her an air of insouciance, as if nothing in the world mattered as long as she was with the man she loved. The shadow had lifted and taken her defensiveness with it. No more unhappiness, no more bitterness, no more wallowing in self-pity.

  Sylvia now booked in for lunch at the Polzanze on weekends. Before, no one had ever needed to book, but the hotel was very busy, and the only way to get a table was to reserve one in advance, or call Jake on his mobile telephone, which he gave out only to very special clients, of which Sylvia was one. The artist-in-residence had gone, but the place now buzzed with Devon’s most fashionable, and the rooms were always full. Marina had put an advert in the Dawcomb-Devlish Gazette for another artist, and William Shawcross had entertained everyone at the first literary dinner, which had been a sellout. Not only was he an articulate and engaging speaker, but he was devilishly handsome, too. Sylvia had managed to corner him for the longest while, and he had politely indulged her as she told him her favorite subject at school had always been history.

  She chewed the end of her Biro and considered how life had so suddenly changed for Clementine. After South America they were going to get married and settle down in Italy. They had thought long and hard about where to lay down their roots, as Rafa was anxious to remain close to Maria Carmela, but his father, Dante, was very keen for them to live with him at La Magdalena. In the end they had decided to divide their time between Argentina and La Magdalena, flying Rafa’s mother over to Italy every summer. Sylvia thought how fabulous it must be to discover one’s real father is one of the richest men in Italy. She glanced at Polly, who was busily scrolling down the Mothercare Web site, and scowled. Clementine was so lucky. Now Sylvia didn’t even have Freddie to snuggle up to. She had never felt lonelier.

  Just then the door opened and in walked Jake from the Polzanze. It was funny to see him out of context, in a pair of jeans and casual shirt. She was struck by how dashing he looked with his fair hair flopping over his forehead and his blue eyes as clear as a lagoon.

  “Well, hello, Jake,” she said brightly. “What are you doing here?”

  He looked around a little nervously. “I came to see you, actually.”

  Sylvia straightened. “Really?”

  “I was wondering whether you’d let me take you out for tea?”

  She was surprised. “Now?”

  “If you’re
not too busy.”

  She turned to Polly. “Be a lovely and man the phones for me. I’m going to take a break. It’s not healthy to sit inside all day.”

  Jake grinned at her boyishly. “Is Devil’s good for you?”

  “My favorite place.”

  “I hear they do very good scones with clotted cream and jam.”

  “They most certainly do. Haven’t you ever been there?”

  “I’m ashamed to admit that I haven’t.”

  “Oh, Jake, you have a treat in store.” She shrugged on her coat and grabbed her handbag.

  They left the office and set off down the pavement. “I’ve been wanting to ask you out for a long time,” Jake confessed.

  Sylvia bristled with pleasure. “Really?”

  “Yes, ever since you first came up to the Polzanze. I thought you were the most sensual woman I’d ever laid eyes on.”

  “Goodness, Jake, I’m flattered. No one’s ever called me sensual before.”

  Her smile encouraged him to go a little further. “It’s the truth. I was just working up the courage to ask you out.”

  “But what took you so long?”

  “You’re a beautiful woman, Sylvia. I wasn’t sure you’d say yes.”

  She laughed incredulously. “In that case, Jake, let’s consider Devil’s to be our first date.”

  Devil’s was warm and smelled of freshly baked cake. They sat at a table by the window and ordered scones and tea. Jake was delighted to see her tuck into the cream and jam with healthy abandon. “I like a woman who’s not afraid to enjoy her food,” he said.

  “Oh, I couldn’t deny myself this,” she enthused, licking a creamy finger.

  “You look very good on it, I must say,” he added, admiring her full bosom as it strained against the stretchy fabric of her dress. “So, why’s a beautiful girl like you not married?”

  She looked down at her ringless finger and sighed. “I’m divorced, actually, yet to find the right man. I’m an old-fashioned girl at heart. You see, I believe in Big Love—the kind of love that sweeps you away, like in those romantic novels. There’s no point compromising. I’d rather be alone than with a man I don’t love.” She grinned as she thought of Clementine and what she’d say if she could hear her now. “I want the fairy tale,” she added firmly. “And nothing less.”

  Grey motored the little fishing boat into the secluded bay. Seagulls dropped out of the sky to swim beside it, hoping to share the spoils of the picnic Marina had prepared. The water was calm, the sky cloudy but for patches of bright blue that gave them the occasional, fleeting glimpse of heaven. The wind was autumnal, and Marina pulled her coat around her shoulders and shivered, hugging Biscuit closer to her body to keep warm.

  Grey steered the boat onto the sand and switched off the engine. He leapt out and pulled it farther up the beach, making sure that it wouldn’t slip back into the sea. Marina handed him the rugs and the picnic basket, and laughed as Biscuit jumped over the stern and began to sniff the rocks excitedly. Grey gave Marina his hand and helped her down. “So, this is it,” he said proudly. “The place I’ve dreamed of bringing you.”

  “It’s lovely,” she enthused, taking a blanket and shaking it out onto the sand.

  “It doesn’t look like anyone ever comes down here.”

  “Then it will be our secret place.”

  “I like the sound of that.” He sat down beside the basket. “What’s in here?”

  “All your favorite things,” she replied, joining him on the blanket.

  “Ah, bread, pâté, smoked salmon, cheese, and chocolate mousse.” He laughed. “Darling, you think of everything.”

  “Most importantly, the wine.” Snug in a cooler was a chilled bottle of Sauvignon Blanc. Grey pulled out the glasses and poured the wine. He raised his glass. “To absent friends,” he said meaningfully.

  “To absent friends.” She took a sip. “I miss them, but in a happy way.”

  “They sound like they’re having a wonderful time traveling around South America.”

  “That’s the great thing about e-mail. In my day we had only letters, and they took ages to arrive.”

  “You never told me you still have all the love letters I wrote you.”

  “I keep everything. I can’t help it. It’s in my nature to hold onto all the evidence of my life.” She grinned at him wistfully. “Probably because I’m always a little scared of losing it.”

  “Clementine has a beautiful diamond engagement ring, thanks to your magpie instincts.”

  “It was strange seeing those pieces of jewelry again. They had meant so much to me at the time. Now they are just pieces of jewelry.”

  “But Clemmie will imbue them with her own associations, and they will be special to her in the same way that they were once so special to you.”

  She took his hand. “Grey, darling, you’ve been wonderfully understanding through all of this.”

  “Don’t forget how many years I waited for you to open up.”

  “Patience, then, is your most admirable quality.”

  “I’d have waited forever if I’d had to. But you know, it would have been so much easier if you had told me at the start. I’d never have judged you.”

  “I know. But it was so raw, it was unspeakable. Now I can talk openly about my son.” She smiled contentedly and took a deep, satisfied breath. “My son—the words are very sweet on my tongue.”

  “Who’d have thought, Rafa and Clementine? Your son and my daughter.”

  “I’m going to have to suffer your ex at the wedding in May.”

  “She’s going to have to suffer the wedding being held at the Polzanze; I think that’s worse.”

  “And I’m going to meet Maria Carmela.” She trembled with excitement. “She’s going to bring photos of Rafa when he was growing up. How lucky that he fell into such a nice nest. I owe Father Ascanio so much, and Zazzetta, who I’d always believed to be the bad guy.” She took another sip of wine. “You know, my life has been so rich because I have lived twice. If it wasn’t for that one terrible twist of fate, I wouldn’t have met you, Clemmie, and Jake—or Biscuit,” she added as the dog lay down on the rug and began to sniff the basket.

  “Who’s to say what sort of people we’d be if we had never met?”

  “That’s a very deep question.”

  “Isn’t it good then that we have the whole afternoon to discuss it?”

  * * *

  When they returned to the Polzanze, it was already getting dark. The days were shorter now, the sunlight weaker, the grass strewn with crispy brown leaves and prickly conkers. Only the pigeons cooed on the rooftops as if it were still summer.

  Marina gazed upon the house she loved so dearly and thought of Dante, who had made it all possible; Dante, who was once again part of her life. She could now remember it all with pleasure, and as she did so, memories buried deep beneath the rubble surfaced again like flowers, finding their way through the debris into the light where she feasted her eyes on them nostalgically.

  There was only one beautiful rose that came up through the wreckage, thick with thorns. It gave her pain to look on it, so she ignored it, even though it grew bigger and more alluring with each day that passed. Until one wintry afternoon in December she strode into the hall to find Jennifer on the telephone.

  “Ah, here she is,” she said, making a face at Marina. “It’s for you.” She held out the receiver.

  “Who is it?”

  Jennifer shrugged. “I don’t know. She says she’s an old friend of yours. Her name is Costanza.”

  Epilogue

  Rafa and Clementine wandered around the gardens of La Magdalena. It had been only two months since they had moved in, and yet they already felt as if they had lived there all their lives. Maria Carmela had come for the summer, settling herself in the little mermaid garden to read on the bench where Violetta had liked to sit, and Dante’s daughters visited often with their husbands and children, filling the pool once again with laughter. They had
left Biscuit at the Polzanze with Marina, but La Magdalena was full of stray dogs and cats Dante had rescued, and Rafa and Clementine loved them all.

  The sun hung low in the west, turning the sky a translucent pink and throwing inky green shadows across the grass. Crickets and roosting birds squabbled noisily as they positioned themselves for the night. The scents of pine and eucalyptus hung thickly in the humid air, and Clementine breathed it in contentedly, savoring the smells of the foreign land she had adopted. It wasn’t long before they came across the part in the boundary wall where the stones had fallen away, leaving it low enough to scale.

  “I wonder why Dante doesn’t want this repaired,” said Rafa, striding forwards. He picked up a loose stone, tossed it into the air, and caught it.

  “It’s obviously special to him. Did you notice the look on his face when he told us we could do whatever we liked to the house and gardens, but that this wall has to remain exactly as it is?”

  “I would guess it has something to do with Floriana,” said Rafa. “But somehow I don’t feel we can ask.”

  Clementine reached the wall and looked through the gap. Beyond, the hills of Tuscany undulated softly in the orange light, and she could see the red rooftops of Herba in the distance and the tower of the church rising above them. Suddenly, she felt the urge to climb to the top and sit there awhile. It was peaceful with the breeze in her hair and the sun warming her skin.

  “Come and join me,” she said as she settled on the stones. “It’s lovely up here.”

  Rafa scaled the wall and sat beside her. “You’re right, it’s a beautiful spot.” He put his arm around her and gently pulled her close. They watched the sun sinking slowly in the sky and the subtle changes in color as the day gave way to dusk. It was then, in the face of such splendor, that he knew. His parents had sat on this wall in the same way and witnessed the splendor of sunset as they did. The ghosts of the past were still here.

  “Do you remember Veronica Leppley?” he asked after a while.

  “Of course.”

  “She once told me that I wouldn’t feel complete until I had found my soul mate. Back then, I was searching for my mother. But now I have you, I realize she was right. Finding Marina gave me a sense of identity—I discovered who I really am and where I come from—but finding you gave me a sense of wholeness. I feel you complete the circle. Where I finish, you begin, and where you finish, I begin. Do you understand?”