The Pollyanna Plan

by Talli Roland

  ‘Okay, thank you.’ Lifting a hand, Emma turned to go. Well, that was that. She hadn’t come here to track down Will anyway, but even if she’d wanted to see him, it was out of the question.

  ‘Wait! I’ve got the name of the island. I jotted it down somewhere.…’ Lou searched the voluminous folds of her cape, finally withdrawing a tatty piece of paper. ‘Yes, here it is. It’s called Lopud. Off the coast of Dubrovnik, Will said.’ Lou thrust the scrap at Emma, waving it in the air until she had no choice but to take it. ‘I’m sure he wouldn’t complain if you wanted to provide a bit of company. By the sounds of things, he’d be easy enough to find.’

  ‘I can’t take off to a foreign country uninvited,’ Emma said, shaking her head at the ridiculous notion as she shoved the paper in her pocket. Imagine! Even if she did decide to talk to Will, she wouldn’t go that far.

  ‘Why not?’ Lou raised her hefty shoulders in a shrug. ‘My God, you young ones. So sensible these days. So boring. Nothing is sensible when it comes to relationships! When I was your age, if I fancied a man, he wouldn’t have a moment’s peace until I had him.’

  ‘Will and I barely know each other,’ Emma mumbled. It was odd—her conversation with Chaz revealed how much she hadn’t known about Will’s background, but somehow none of those details made any difference. Underneath it all, she did feel like she knew him.

  Lou raised an eyebrow. ‘Didn’t you spend the night together? I’d say that definitely counts as knowing each other.’

  Emma’s flush deepened. Did this woman ever let up? Soon she’d be asking the colour of her knickers. ‘I’d better get back home.’

  ‘All right.’ Lou opened her mouth as if she was going to say more, but then decided against it. ‘I wish you peace.’

  Emma barely refrained from rolling her eyes as she nodded and smiled. Peace? It seemed miles away.

  As she crunched down the path back to her flat, Emma noticed the mist had now cleared and the sun sparkled on the water. Watching the ducks dip and dive, she plopped onto a bench, Lou’s words echoing in her ears. God, what she wouldn’t give for a little peace right now! She was fed up with dithering, with not knowing which way to turn.

  At least she and Alice were back on an even keel. She really should call her mum, too. No matter what happened between them, Emma did want to try to build a relationship with her sister. She had a funny feeling if she missed the Christmas concert, Meg would never forgive her. Digging in her handbag, Emma withdrew the mobile and punched in the number.

  ‘Hi, Mum,’ she said when her mother’s voice came on the line.

  ‘Emma! Thank goodness. I was about to send Andrew over to knock on your door and make sure you were all right.’

  Emma’s eyes widened. She’d never thought her lack of response would cause worry. ‘Sorry, I got busy with my new job.’

  ‘Anyway,’—Emma could hear her mother swallow back hurt that she hadn’t called—‘are you coming to the concert on Monday? If you’re not going to make it, at least let me know now so I can break the news to Meg beforehand.’ Her mum’s tone was resigned.

  ‘I’ll be there. Tell Meg I’m coming, and I can’t wait.’

  ‘Oh, fantastic. Meg will be so pleased.’ The happiness and relief in her mum’s voice confirmed Emma’s earlier thought about how important her presence was—for her sister, if for no one else. ‘And Emma, about Christmas…’ Her mother sounded nervous now, and Emma’s heart squeezed. What other bombshell would she drop? ‘Well, Andrew and I have been chatting, and we think this year we might stay home, after all. Have a real family Christmas in Virginia Water. Turkey, trimmings, the works.’

  ‘Okay,’ Emma said slowly, unsure how to respond. Did ‘family Christmas’ include her this time, or had they assumed once again she wouldn’t be interested? Dare she ask? ‘But what about Mauritius? I thought you’d booked the tickets and everything.’

  ‘Tickets can be un-booked,’ her mother said. ‘And we realised we were missing one important thing.’

  ‘What?’ Emma held her breath.

  ‘You, my dear. We haven’t spent Christmas as a whole family in years. I hope you can come?’ Her mum’s tone was tentative.

  ‘I wouldn’t dream of missing it.’ Despite the cold of the morning, a balloon of warmth was expanding inside. They did want her to be part of the family. After everything that had happened, she could finally let herself believe it.

  ‘Brilliant.’ Emma could almost see the smile spreading on her mum’s face. ‘You know, I’m really glad we talked about your father and got everything out in the open. I just wish we’d done it sooner.’

  Emma paused, wondering if she would have been as receptive earlier. Probably not—it had taken losing her fiancé, being let go from her job, and the Pollyanna Plan to put her in a place where she could let down her guard. Thinking back to that sunny afternoon at the house, something her mother had said over the kitchen table twigged in her head.

  ‘Mum, did you really mean it when you said that even if you had known about Dad’s illness and that you’d lose him, you wouldn’t change anything?’ Emma clutched the phone so tightly, the plastic casing creaked in protest. In her mind’s eye, she envisioned her mother, drawn and pale for months after her dad passed away, moving like a robot through the stripped house.

  ‘I meant every word,’ her mum responded in a voice filled with resolve. ‘Love and heartache don’t cancel each other out, my dear. All those moments of happiness still exist, despite the pain of your father’s death. They’re not diminished because of it.’

  Emma sat stock-still as the words washed over her.

  ‘And when you love someone,’ her mother continued, ‘you don’t have a choice. Your heart won’t let them go.’

  Staring out at the smooth waters of the basin, Emma’s brain buzzed. It was early days with Will, but with the strength of connection and emotion she already felt, the potential for love was definitely there. And despite her best efforts, her heart didn’t want to let him go—no matter what she knew about his illness or the challenges they might face. Emma straightened her spine as the knowledge flooded in: she wanted to be with him. It was that simple.

  But did he feel the same?

  A scream of frustration built up inside. How could she wait until Will returned in the New Year to put this to rest? Lately, all she’d been doing was waiting, waiting, waiting…as if the solution would magically appear. Lou’s words about heading to the island, crazy though they were, came to mind. That would be one way to get an answer fast! She shook her head in disbelief. Was she actually considering this?

  ‘Mum, I’ve got to go,’ Emma said, getting to her feet. ‘I’ll see you at the concert.’

  Excitement, nerves and anticipation forced Emma’s legs faster and faster towards the flat as she formulated a plan. If she hopped on a flight as soon as possible, she could be in Croatia by late afternoon, track down Will on the island (hopefully it’d be as easy as Lou had made it sound), and come back Sunday evening in time for work and Meg’s concert the next day. Logistically, it was doable. But was it logical?

  ‘Screw logic,’ Emma muttered as she puffed up the stairs of her building. She might not ever be Pollyanna, but she wasn’t a slave to logic any longer, either. And no matter how it turned out, at least she wasn’t sitting around, asking herself five zillion questions no one could answer. No, this time she was hunting down life full force. It might be insane, but God, it felt good.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  The outline of Lopud came into view, and Emma shivered on the deck of the ferry, buttoning up her thin coat. She hadn’t realised it would be this cold; somehow, she’d thought Croatia stayed warm all year round. At least it was sunny. With golden rays illuminating the island’s treetops and mountains, the whole place looked straight out of a fairytale.

  She glanced at her watch. Ten more minutes and the boat would do
ck. And then…Emma shook her head. Then, she hadn’t a clue! She could scarcely believe she was actually here. An incredulous laugh bubbled up as she thought of the past few hours.

  Back at her flat, she’d snapped open the laptop. Fingers flying over the keyboard, she’d booked an early-afternoon flight to Dubrovnik, grabbed the passport she’d got when George promised Paris for her birthday but took her to a French brasserie in Kensington instead, threw a few things in an oversized handbag, and hopped on the Heathrow Express. It had been packed with Saturday travellers, and she’d stood in a daze, listening to the excited pre-holiday buzz.

  A couple of hours and one cab ride to Dubrovnik’s port later, Emma had boarded the ferry to Lopud. She’d moved like an automaton, only thinking ahead to the next step. But now she had almost reached her destination…with still no plan. What, was she going to randomly canvass strangers and ask if they knew Will, an Englishman with a villa? Would these people even speak English? Lou had made it all sound so simple, but Emma was starting to wonder if she’d embarked on a wild goose chase.

  The ferry pulled into a bay, and Emma caught her breath at its beauty. The harbour curved gently like a half-moon, cafés and trees lining the seafront. A steep hill dotted with whitewashed houses rose to meet the sky, smoke curling into the air. She could see why Will would come here to get away from everything. It was the perfect location.

  Emma trundled down the gangplank and onto the dock, watching as the boat glided off to the next island. The noise of its engines receded, leaving the gentle buzz of the islanders as they went about their afternoon business. From what Emma could see, she was the only tourist in sight.

  Heaving the handbag onto her shoulder, she made her way past a souvenir shop shuttered for winter. As she strolled along the waterfront, she nodded to the curious locals, trying to work up the nerve to ask about Will. This was stupid, she told herself. After coming all this way, she couldn’t even find the courage to talk to people? Maybe it’d be easier to head into a restaurant or something. The employees might speak a little English if they dealt with tourists in the summer.

  Emma paused outside a tiny café. Two bearded men sat at a rickety table, nursing small cups filled with dark liquid resembling tar more than coffee. She nodded a greeting, then pushed her way inside. A man behind the counter glanced up from his newspaper and grunted something she didn’t understand.

  ‘Um, sorry to disturb you,’ she said. ‘Do you speak English?’

  The man nodded. ‘Little.’ He folded the paper and stood. ‘You want coffee? Coke?’

  ‘Coke, please,’ Emma responded quickly, thinking her stomach wouldn’t forgive nor forget easily if she ingested the sludge she’d seen outside.

  The server passed over a warm can, and Emma gave him some money, hoping it was enough. She’d hastily exchanged pounds for Croatian kuna before boarding the plane, and she’d no idea of the exchange rate.

  Emma took a deep breath. ‘I wonder if you can help me,’ she began. ‘I’m looking for an Englishman named Will Ballard. His family owns a villa here, and he’s on the island at the moment.’

  ‘Will?’ The man tilted his head, handing her a jumble of coins.

  ‘Yes, he has a villa here. Do you know him?’ Please God, may he know him—or at least be able to point me in the right direction.

  ‘Coffee? Coke?’ the server asked again.

  Huh? ‘No, no.’ Emma held up her Coke and smiled. ‘I already have one, thanks. But I’m wondering if you know someone named Will? Will Ballard?’ she repeated, nailing a smile to her face.

  The man paused. ‘Coffee? Coke?’

  Was this some kind of Croatian-style bribe, Emma wondered? Well, okay, then. It was just a Coke, and if this guy could help her track down Will, it’d be worth it.

  ‘Coke,’ she said, giving him some change. The server carefully separated the coins into the ancient cash register, then handed her another can. Pausing, Emma waited for the information to come. Instead, he just nodded and settled into his seat again, taking up the newspaper. What the—?

  ‘Er, you were going to tell me about Will. The Englishman?’ she attempted once more, feeling like a prize idiot.

  The man looked up. ‘Will?’

  ‘Yes, Will.’ Emma tried hard to keep the impatience from her voice. ‘You know, the one with the villa?’

  ‘Villa?’ The man’s brow furrowed. ‘Sorry, I don’t speak English. Coke? Coffee?’

  ‘Shit,’ Emma cursed under her breath. ‘No, thanks.’ Turning on her heel, she hurried from the café, cheeks flaming at her own stupidity. Still, she couldn’t help a wry smile as she glanced down at the two lukewarm cans of Coke in her hands. Shoving one in her bag, she opened the other and let the fizzy, familiar-tasting liquid slide down her throat.

  Staring out at a sailboat bobbing on the gentle waves, Emma wondered what to do now. Shrugging, she chose a direction at random, pushing between shuttered buildings along a narrow path. Might as well wander about, do some exploring and hope she did come across a person who spoke enough English to hold a conversation.

  Ah, here was a shop. Maybe someone inside could help? Will must have to buy his food somewhere, and it wasn’t like the island was heaving with supermarkets. An older woman with tanned skin and lines criss-crossing her face turned at the sound of the bell as the door opened.

  ‘Hi,’ Emma said, feeling a little shy under the shopkeeper’s scrutiny. ‘Do you speak English?’

  ‘I do, yes. How can I help?’ The response was heavily accented, but at least the woman knew more words than ‘Coke’ and ‘coffee’.

  ‘I’m looking for an Englishman named Will Ballard. His family has a villa here on the island.’ Emma crossed her fingers that the woman might have some inkling what she was on about.

  Her heart jumped as the shopkeeper moved her head up and down. ‘Will, yes. I know him.’

  ‘You do? Oh, that’s fabulous!’ Emma only just managed to stop herself from leaping over the counter and throwing her arms around the woman. Thank God she wouldn’t have to wander the island for hours, calling out Will’s name and hoping someone would respond. ‘It would be great if you could tell me where he is.’

  ‘I know where his villa is, yes.’ The shopkeeper’s stare intensified. ‘But who are you?’

  ‘Oh.’ Emma paused. How to explain she’d rushed from London in desperation to see if she might have a future with Will, despite everything? ‘I’m Emma, a friend of his from London. I just…I really need to talk to him.’ She held the woman’s gaze, willing her to understand.

  The shopkeeper’s lips turned up in a smile, transforming her face as if a light was shining from the inside. She came from around the counter and kissed Emma on both cheeks. Despite its leathery appearance, her skin was soft and cool.

  ‘Any friend of Will’s is very welcome here,’ she said, pulling back and beaming. ‘I am Maria. Come, I’ll take you to the villa.’ And before Emma could respond, Maria had tugged her into the street, closing the door of the shop behind her.

  ‘Er, don’t you need to lock that?’ Emma asked as she was marched up the alley. Despite Maria’s elderly appearance, she seemed to possess the strength of ten men.

  Maria shook her head. ‘No, no. If anyone needs something, they just take it and leave the money. This is a small island and we trust everyone.’

  God, imagine that system working in London, Emma thought as she followed Maria up the steep incline. Fat chance! This place was like some kind of utopia. Hopefully, that had influenced Will.

  ‘I am pleased to see you here,’ Maria said over her shoulder. ‘Will has been all alone since he arrived. It will be good for him to have company.’

  ‘Yes, I thought I’d pop by for a quick visit,’ Emma responded, trying not to huff out the words. How could this woman be in better shape than she was?

  Probably best to keep to myself that I
haven’t actually been invited, Emma thought. God knows what Will’s reaction will be. Now that she was minutes from finding out, her pulse was racing—and not from the exercise—and her belly was queasy, as if she had chugged down the sludgy coffee she’d spotted earlier.

  ‘It’s there.’ Maria pointed to stairs leading up to a whitewashed house set off the alleyway. A crumbling wall marked out a large garden, its stones glowing in the warm light of the afternoon sun.

  Emma swallowed, her insides shifting again as if her gut was too big for her body. She’d done it. She’d come all this way, and now she was here. Inside that house was Will—and the answer to her question: Did he want to be with her, too?

  ‘I’ll leave you,’ Maria said. ‘If you need anything, please come see me.’

  ‘Okay. Thanks for your help.’ Relief flooded through Emma that the older woman wasn’t staying to witness Will’s response to her sudden appearance.

  Maria nodded, patted Emma’s arm in a motherly way, then turned and scuttled off back down the alley.

  Emma climbed the stairs slowly, the twitter of birds and the wind in the pines overhead filling her ears. God, it was quiet—nothing like London, where you’d be lucky to hear yourself think some days. Breathing in the fresh air, she forced herself to take step after step towards the entrance. Words bubbled up inside, eager to escape. Normally, Emma would have paused to examine each one, trying to craft the ideal sentence. But all the analysis in the world wouldn’t clarify anything, she knew. She was following her heart.

  Okay, here we go. Reaching up, she rapped the heavy metal knocker against the wooden door, the bangs echoing the thumping of her heart. Any second now, Will would appear.…

  One minute later, though, the door remained resolutely closed. Emma banged again, even louder this time. Maybe he was upstairs? Or having a shower? She’d wait a little longer, if her heart could stand it. Silence filled her ears once more.