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  ‘I’m so sorry, darling.’ Her mother gave her a hug. ‘There were things I had to say to Richard.’

  Like … I love you? Ella’s excitement stirred. Were the two of them finally going to put the world out of its misery and admit to each other what everyone else could plainly see? She wondered where they’d have the wedding: here at the vineyard, or somewhere hopelessly glamorous, like Tahiti or the Seychelles?

  Lizzie looked around.

  ‘Carr went home,’ Ella explained.

  ‘Hi.’ Luke walked in, spick and span in a fresh T-shirt and jeans, his spiky hair still wet from the shower.

  Ella smiled at him. ‘Hello.’

  Lizzie looked from her to Luke, then back again. Ella’s smile broadened as she watched her mother reappraise the situation.

  ‘Coffee?’ Ella asked him.

  ‘Thanks. Just a quick one, then I’ll hit the road.’

  ‘You don’t have to go,’ she told him.

  ‘I should leave you two in peace.’

  ‘Don’t be silly — you’re welcome. Isn’t he, Mum?’

  ‘Of course you are,’ said Lizzie, not sounding entirely convinced.

  ‘Thanks, but I really have to get back,’ said Luke, diplomatically. He shot Ella a grin. ‘I’m all out of clean shirts.’

  ‘What did he mean about his shirts?’ Lizzie asked, when Luke had driven away.

  ‘I got mascara all over him last night.’

  Her mother raised her eyebrows.

  ‘No! Not like that. I was crying.’ She shook her head in frustration. ‘Do you have any idea,’ she asked, ‘how worried we were about you?’

  ‘We?’

  ‘Yes, we.’ Ella stared at her mother. ‘Luke and I. Richard. Rob and Charlotte. Carr.’

  Lizzie turned away.

  ‘And as for that poor little pilot you bullied into leaving you there,’ Ella went on, ‘he’ll probably never dare fly again.’

  ‘I know,’ her mother soothed. ‘I’m so sorry I put you through that. All of you. It must have been awful.’

  ‘It was awful.’ Ella couldn’t help but smile. ‘And there you were, having a fine old time nearly freezing to death in the wilderness. You never think of others.’

  ‘Darling,’ her mother said seriously, ‘I really am very sorry.’

  ‘Don’t.’ She dabbed at her eyes. ‘You’ll get me started again. And I don’t have Luke for a handkerchief this time.’

  Lizzie considered her, head to one side. ‘Is something going on with you two?’

  ‘How could there be?’ Ella couldn’t resist. ‘I couldn’t possibly be interested in Luke. He’s not my type, remember?’

  Lizzie was silent.

  ‘Nothing’s going on. We’re just friends.’

  ‘Friends,’ her mother said, dubiously.

  ‘Yes. He was very sweet last night.’

  ‘Sweet?’

  ‘Why are you repeating everything I say in that tone?’

  ‘Because I shouldn’t imagine those are words that get used about Luke very often.’

  ‘I thought you liked him.’

  ‘I do.’ Lizzie hesitated. ‘But—’

  ‘It’s okay, Mum.’ Ella rolled her eyes. ‘I’m not going to fall in love with him, I swear.’

  ‘Darling,’ Lizzie smiled, ‘I think that’s very wise.’

  ‘How was Richard?’ she shot back.

  Lizzie stared at her. Oh — Ella clamped her hand to her mouth — she shouldn’t have said that. Her mother looked devastated. Whatever she’d had to say to him didn’t appear to have gone down well.

  ‘Darling,’ her mother said slowly, ‘I think you’d better sit down. There’s something I need to say.’

  ‘I am sitting down.’

  ‘Somewhere more comfortable.’ Lizzie frowned at the bar stool Ella was perched upon. ‘You see, it’s rather a long story.’

  Ella followed her mother over to the sofa.

  Lizzie patted her hand. ‘I don’t quite know where to start.’

  ‘I wish you would. You’re starting to scare me.’

  ‘Okay.’ Lizzie took a deep breath. ‘Darling, you know how much Tom loves you.’

  She frowned. ‘Of course.’

  ‘Nothing will ever, ever change that.’ Lizzie paused. ‘The thing is … Oh, darling, the thing is …’

  ‘For God’s sake, spit it out, Mum! Is Dad dying?’

  ‘No! No — God, no — nothing like that. The thing is that Tom is … not your father … your biological father, I mean.’

  ‘He’s not what?’ Ella stared at her. ‘What do you mean he’s not my …’ She shook her head. ‘So who is?’

  ‘Richard.’

  ‘Richard?’ But how did that happen? When did they …? Well, she guessed she knew the answers to both those questions, but — bloody hell. ‘Does he — does he know?’

  ‘Richard?’

  ‘Yes. No. Either of them. Do they know?’

  ‘Your father—’ Lizzie pulled herself up. ‘Tom knows, obviously. I was pregnant with you when we first started seeing each other. Not that I knew that then, of course. We’d been together for about a month when I found out. I told Tom straight away. I thought …’ She let out her breath. ‘I thought that would be it. But it wasn’t. Tom said he didn’t want to break things off. He stayed around — he was amazing, actually. I don’t know what I would have done without him.’

  But what about … ‘Did you tell Richard?’

  Lizzie looked away. ‘No.’

  ‘Don’t you think he—’ Ella made an effort to soften her tone. ‘Don’t you think he had a right to know?’

  ‘When we were,’ Lizzie blushed, ‘together, that time … Well, it wasn’t exactly planned. Dickie’s marriage was in a very bad place, and something happened that shouldn’t have happened, and then … well, shortly after that, he and Tamara patched things up again and he was — he was happy. If he’d known … if Tamara had found out … that would have been the end of their marriage.’

  ‘Their marriage ended anyway.’

  ‘But not because of me.’ Her mother gave a little shrug. ‘You have to remember, darling, Dickie isn’t just anyone. His life isn’t private, he can’t have secrets. He’s a star. And he was an even bigger star back then. It would have been a scandal. Once the tabloids got hold of it, no one’s life would have been worth living — not Dickie’s, not mine, not Tom’s.’

  ‘But,’ Ella interrupted gently, ‘if you’d told him — if you’d given him the option — he might have chosen to be with you.’

  Lizzie shook her head. ‘For how long?’ Her voice was equally gentle. ‘Darling, you would never have had a normal life. A safe life, with two people who loved you. Can you imagine what it would have been like growing up as Richard Bourne’s daughter?’

  Well, no, since she hadn’t been given the opportunity, of course she couldn’t. Ella thought about it. Cameras in the hedge, reporters going through their rubbish, cruel headlines about her father’s alleged affairs littering the seats of the Tube. She thought about Tom. Lovely, safe Tom.

  ‘No wonder,’ she said, half to herself, ‘that Dad — that Tom — didn’t like Richard being around.’

  ‘No,’ Lizzie said, ‘that wasn’t it. Tom doesn’t know who your real father is.’

  Ella stared at her. ‘He wasn’t curious?’

  ‘He asked,’ her mother admitted. ‘I told him it was no one who mattered, no one I’d see again, that he would never be part of my life or yours, and Tom — Tom left it at that. He never pushed me.’ Lizzie sighed. ‘The truth is, I don’t think Tom wanted to know. I think he wanted you as much as he wanted me. Maybe more. His first marriage had broken up because they couldn’t have kids, you see. By the time you were born, Tom and I both thought of you as our baby. He was there beside me through the whole thing.’ Lizzie touched Ella’s hand. ‘He held you before I did.’

  ‘But Richard did matter,’ Ella said. ‘He was very much in our lives.’

  ‘
Yes,’ said Lizzie. ‘He was.’

  ‘So you—’ Ella stopped herself. ‘You didn’t tell Dad the truth. And you didn’t tell me.’

  ‘After you were born, I realised … I knew I’d have to tell you who your real father was. You, and Richard, too. I wanted you to know each other. But I … I just couldn’t do it to Tom. He was so jealous of Richard anyway, and for him to find out — well, he would just have been devastated.’ Lizzie paused. ‘So I just kept putting it off.’

  ‘For twenty-three years?’

  Lizzie gave a half laugh. ‘The plan was to do it as soon as you were old enough to understand. Then I thought I’d just wait until you’d finished primary school. Then suddenly you had exams coming up and I didn’t want to upset you.’ She shook her head. ‘It’s amazing how time flies.’

  ‘And you didn’t tell Richard either?’

  ‘No.’ Lizzie watched Ella’s face. ‘Not until this morning.’

  Jesus. ‘What did he say?’

  ‘Rather a lot,’ said Lizzie, ruefully. ‘As you’d imagine.’

  Ella was silent.

  ‘He wants to talk to you, of course. To spend some time with you — if that’s okay. If that’s what you want. When you get back to London. Or before. He said he’d like to come over.’

  Ella thought about that. ‘What about Tom?’

  Her mother said nothing.

  ‘Have you told him yet?’

  Lizzie shook her head. ‘I thought I might leave that up to you.’

  ‘You want me to tell him?’ Ella was horrified.

  ‘No, darling, of course not. I’d just like you to have some time to digest all this. Think about how you feel. When you’re ready, I’ll talk to Tom.’

  Digest all this? Ella hoped her mother wasn’t holding her breath. Slumping back on the sofa, she let out her own.

  Lizzie reached for her hand. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Ella squeezed her eyes shut, rubbing her forehead with her free hand. ‘It’s been a hell of a twenty-four hours.’

  ‘Darling,’ she could hear the smile in her mother’s voice, ‘tell me about it.’

  Ella managed a laugh. Leaning forward, Lizzie kissed her forehead.

  ‘Mum?’ Ella squeezed her hand.

  ‘What is it, darling?’

  ‘Can I ask you one thing?’

  ‘You can ask me anything, darling. Always.’

  ‘When you and he … You loved him, didn’t you? Richard, I mean?’

  ‘Of course. I still do. You know that.’

  ‘No, but — were you in love with him? Would you have married him, if he’d asked?’

  Lizzie shook her head. ‘It was never that simple.’

  Chapter FIFTEEN

  ‘All this time,’ Richard raged. Holding the phone away from her ear, Lizzie flinched. She’d never heard him really angry before — not off-camera, anyway.

  ‘All those months,’ he went on, ‘when you were carrying Ella, when you were throwing up in my dressing room, when you sat across from me every day at lunch — you never felt the need to tell me I was looking at my own child?’

  ‘If you remember,’ Lizzie defended herself, ‘you’d very recently told me the last thing you wanted was a baby.’

  ‘With Tamara? Could you blame me? The woman was insane.’

  ‘You could have worked it out if you’d wanted to. You could have done the maths.’

  ‘The what?’

  ‘When I told you I was pregnant, Richard, I also told you when I was due.’

  ‘And that was supposed to be my clue? Not everyone’s a walking fucking calendar, you know.’

  ‘Come on, Dickie, be honest. What would you have done differently?’

  ‘Everything. Jesus, Lizzie — everything.’

  His voice was still ringing in her ears as she sat down to tell Ella. Who, contrary to Lizzie’s fears, had taken the revelation much better than Richard. She’d rather expected their reactions to be reversed. Her daughter, surely, had more right to hurl recriminations at her than Richard did. Still, she thought bitterly, Richard was rather a stranger to moral high ground — she shouldn’t blame him for making the most of it while he was there. God knew he’d probably never get a second opportunity.

  Lizzie had barely had a chance to finish talking to Ella before Jules was on the line.

  ‘I’ve just got off the phone to Richard. What the hell, Lizzie?’

  God, had he told Jules? She wasn’t ready for that, not now, not yet.

  ‘I asked you to find locations, not get lost in them,’ Jules went on. ‘Do you have any idea what you getting killed would do to my liability insurance?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Lizzie smiled, ‘since you haven’t actually given me a contract.’

  ‘Don’t you worry, there’s one on the way. I’ve thrown in a few health and safety brochures. And a clause about reckless behaviour.’ Jules sighed. ‘Seriously, Lizzie. Are you okay?’

  ‘I’m fine, I swear.’ Physically, anyway. Emotionally, she felt like a bag of shit — so much for catharsis.

  ‘You’re sure?’

  ‘I’m sure.’

  ‘Good. Because we need to bring the schedule forward. That series Richard was lined up to shoot fell through. He’s got a gap in his diary.’

  Well, thought Lizzie, that might explain his mood.

  ‘I want to come over and get his links in the can before he changes his mind.’

  The way she was feeling, Lizzie rather hoped Richard would change his mind. ‘Do you even have a script?’

  ‘I will have,’ Jules said grimly.

  The rest of Lizzie’s day went by in a blur of guilt and exhaustion. Had she done the right thing? Not just today, but all those years ago? Had she made the right decision?

  ‘For God’s sake, go to bed, Mum.’ Ella shook her head.

  ‘I’m fine, darling, really.’ She watched her daughter furtively. ‘I’m not tired.’

  ‘You can’t keep your eyes open.’

  ‘Yes, I can.’ Lizzie recaptured her tilting coffee cup. But she could hardly say, your father’s not your father, I’m off for a nap, now, could she? She needed to be there, in case … in case Ella wanted to talk. Or throw things at her. Or something.

  In the end, it was Ella who went to bed first. Curled up at last in her own bed, Lizzie, suddenly sleepless, thought how very proud she was of her daughter. Ella was walking proof (wasn’t she? Lizzie crossed her fingers) that she had made the right choice. That she’d done the right thing — for Ella, for Richard, for Tom — in that other lifetime when she’d known them all, herself included, so much less well. How likely was it, back then, that Richard Bourne would still be in her life now? That he would be there willingly, without coercion.

  Lizzie closed her eyes. It was almost equally dark either way. No sign of a moon tonight; the cloud cover hadn’t lifted. With everything else going on, she’d barely had time to process the fact that Carr had driven off without saying goodbye. Or anything else. That she hadn’t even finished thanking him. That was the least of her worries. Turning, Lizzie buried her head in the pillow. It ought to be, anyway. As her mind slid back to the previous night, she fought to gather her thoughts.

  She’d be better to forget about that. And that … and that as well… Okay. Unlikely to happen soon. Pretend it was a dream, then. It did have the feel of one. If she could just get to sleep, maybe she could have it again. This time she’d just have to make sure she woke up before the end.

  Work — that was the thing, Lizzie decided, waking early the next morning from a disturbingly realistic yet unsatisfying dream involving a rug and a staircase. She needed to work. And, as luck would have it, there was plenty of it to occupy her mind.

  She looked out at the overcast sky. It was too wet for her morning vineyard round. Having showered briskly, Lizzie took her coffee into the office and sat down to her email. Jules had sent through the script outlines. Lizzie opened them up and tried to get her head around what was required.


  Three days later, it was still raining. Taking a break from her umpteenth round of calls, Lizzie put down the phone and stared out at the vines in frustration. This weather wasn’t helping the grapes. They were into autumn now, and the days were getting shorter. If the fruit didn’t ripen before the frosts came, she was going to be in serious trouble. She could lose the whole crop. While she could live without the vineyard making a profit, if it failed to even cover its costs … well, there was no way she could afford to carry those overheads through to the next season. And if she failed to produce any fruit, she stood to lose the winery contract as well. Lizzie shuddered at the thought of trying to manage the vines without them.

  Luke had warned her it was a gamble. A crop was always going to be marginal here. But the New Zealand summer had seemed such a safe bet when she was behind a desk in London.

  Luke. That reminded her … Lizzie sighed. Did Ella know what she was doing there? Of course not: she was Ella. She couldn’t seriously be interested in him — he really wasn’t her type. Thanks to Lizzie’s job, Ella’s life had always been full of beautiful, sleek young men just that little bit too charming to trust, and she’d never shown the slightest interest in any of them. Bad boys weren’t Ella’s thing. In fact, her daughter had an unfailing eye for wonderful men — the only problem was, they were always somebody else’s.

  United in unrequited love, was that it? Lizzie had felt sorry for Luke herself that night with Charlotte and Rob, but, really, he wasn’t the sort of man you should try to cheer up with a bit of harmless flirtation. It was like a gazelle trying to nurse a leopard back to health. Without a solid exit strategy, things were liable to turn ugly.

  Ella stuck her head around the door. ‘Can I borrow the car tomorrow?’

  ‘I think so.’ Lizzie checked her calendar. ‘Sure. I don’t need it all day.’

  ‘Great.’ Ella grinned. ‘Jaz and Wills are coming through town in their campervan, and they asked if I wanted to meet up for lunch.’

  ‘Jaz and Wills?’

  ‘Friends of Freddie’s. You know, Emma’s new guy.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Lizzie, struggling to remember who Emma was. ‘Right.’