Buch lesen: «The Secrets of Villa Rosso: Escape to Italy for a summer romance to remember»

Chapter 3

Our wedding day was perfect. In between showers of warm, summer rain it was a day made for happiness. Our friends and family were overjoyed to celebrate with us and no one really wanted the party to end. As Josh and I circulated, whenever we brushed past each other we linked fingers for the briefest of moments, eyes seeking each other out with a smile that came from the heart. Discreetly mouthing ‘I love you’ to each other, before moving on to receive congratulations and hugs from those around us. How strange that on your wedding day you spend most of the time with other people, grabbing as many tantalising moments together as you can before being pulled away. But the happiness was tangible and infectious, reminding everyone that life, when it’s good, is very good.

However, the path of life isn’t smooth and tragedy was to come our way. My first pregnancy ended in miscarriage in the fifth month. The grief was overwhelming, but drew us closer together in a way that few can truly understand unless they have suffered a similar loss. It was a time of mourning and that was difficult, not least because we needed it to be private. Those close to us were not allowed inside the tight little box we created around our emotions. To the world we stayed strong, but alone we were distraught and trying desperately to mend our broken hearts.

Marrying so young I’d barely finished my internship with a large interior design company, Westings Interiors, before Josh swept me off my feet. I had taken a little time off after the miscarriage, but quickly settled back into my work routine and put all thoughts of having a baby aside. Then the unexpected news that I was pregnant again came out of the blue. It seemed that fate was smiling upon us once more and as we didn’t want to take any risks. I gave up work when I was at the twenty-week stage. I don’t think either of us relaxed until the moment we finally held Hettie in our arms.

Two years later we welcomed our youngest daughter, Rosie, into the world and she was the bonus that made our little family complete. Whilst nothing would replace the baby we had lost, our lives were rich and full because of our loving daughters. We thanked God every single day for the joy they brought us. We commiserated with each other just as regularly over the sleepless nights and the angst that comes with being a parent. But we managed to survive all of that and our love has grown because of the things we’ve been through together. We’ve weathered our little storms well and hope that it was more by judgement than sheer luck that the girls have turned out so well.

Josh hasn’t been just a husband and a lover, but a friend and confidante. I’ve always shared things with him rather than my mother, when she was alive, or girlfriends. I realised, of course, that was unusual and maybe even a little hurtful to some people, at times. But that reflected the true nature of our relationship. It has given me a growing sense of unease over the years, because it set us apart from every other couple we knew.

We became introvertly self-sufficient, each giving the other everything they needed. When those around us came to me to pour out their hearts and trust me with their biggest fears, I couldn’t do the same in return. I’ve seen a number of very good friends though a difficult divorce, close-family deaths and child-rearing woes. However, I’m conscious that there is a line I have drawn about what I’m prepared to share. Does anyone notice that I hold back and do they realise that Josh is my number-one friend, above all others? Does that make me any less of a friend to them?

I sometimes feel like a complete fraud, as if I should say, ‘You don’t know everything about me, does that matter to you?’ They think they know me, of course, but the simple truth is that they only see what I allow them to see. I find that most people are grateful to have someone who will listen to them; someone who cares enough to hear what they are saying and feel their pain. Often, all they need is a hug, or to let loose that inner turmoil by finally hearing themselves uttering the words. Once shared, it’s a form of release and they are suddenly free to move on. I’m a listener, a hugger and a shoulder to cry on.

But my shoulder to cry on is Josh, because the truth is that I don’t need anyone else. Since that fateful day … it’s not that I love him any less than I did, it’s more complicated than that. Naturally he senses, and has done for a while, that something has changed in me, but he can’t verbalise it. I’m too afraid to break my silence, partly because I’m not sure I could explain what is happening to me. I don’t really understand it myself, but I do know that I now fear I am losing my grip on reality. Or rather, what is real as opposed to what exists solely in my mind.

But I’m talking about before all of that happened; the years when life was somehow more straightforward, despite what fate had to throw at us. We knew some of the knocks we would experience in life would be hard to take, but youth gives one a feeling of invincibility. It’s only as you grow older that you begin to see things differently. Worry begins to hover around you, like a threatening rain cloud on an otherwise bright and sunny day.

For our seventh wedding anniversary we had a party and it also marked the end of the first month in our new, much bigger, home.

‘Beware the seven-year itch, my friend. It comes to us all,’ Nathan, Josh’s boss had joked, slapping him on the back. ‘It suddenly hits you that you’re in for the long haul and that mortgage begins to feel like an increasingly heavy burden. The family grows, you need more space and then you find the home of your dreams. Now you get to spend the rest of your life paying it off. You realise that freedom is something you took for granted in the dim and distant past.’

His wife, the lovely Liz, had pulled a face.

‘So kind of you to share your utterly depressing thoughts, Nathan.’ Her eyes had flashed him a look of amusement, but I noticed a worrying trace of disapproval lurking behind her smile. ‘We’re lucky we’ve survived; many don’t. Yes, it’s hard bringing up a family and it’s only natural there are times when we all long to take a break from everyday life. But if you were still single now, you’d be way out of control.’ Was there a hint of reluctant acceptance in her softly spoken words?

‘Ah, behind every successful man there is a woman,’ Josh spoke up, conscious that the silly banter was in danger of getting out of hand.

Nathan had downed the remainder of his drink in one. ‘I thought the saying was that behind every successful man is a woman, and behind her is his wife.’

Everyone had laughed at that point, because we were all unaware at the time of the cracks in what had seemed like a very solid relationship. But within a year of that conversation, their marriage was over and Nathan began the first in a string of disastrous hook-ups. As for us, Hettie was five years old by then, and Rosie had just turned three. We had joined in that conversation good-naturedly, too tired from disturbed nights and the strains of the house move to read any more into it. Rosie had way too much energy to sleep for more than a couple of hours at a stretch. She was this endless bundle of activity, stopping only when she was exhausted. Often she would fall asleep in the middle of eating a meal, or suddenly curl up on the floor, toy in hand. Who had the energy to even have an itch, we wondered? Certainly not us. I had no idea if Josh worried about it, but we continued to sail through each anniversary and our love was strong and unwavering. The only worry in my mind was what would I do if I ever lost Josh? What if one of us died prematurely? I knew it worried him too, but we chose to never voice those concerns.

Life was ruled by the usual day-to-day family highs and lows, as we negotiated our way through temper tantrums and growing pains. Rosie had just started nursery school and she loved it, blossoming in an environment of play activity and making new friends. By then Josh had been promoted and was running the entire IT section. His week was busy and he often worked long hours, but weekends were family time.

I lost touch with most of my work colleagues as the years continued to fly by, but one of the other interns, Olivia Bradley, remained my one very close friend. Our lives were, and are still, so very different, but that’s partly why my friendship with Livvie works so well. I think we can see in each other the life we didn’t choose, if that makes any sense. There, but for the grace of God, go I. It helps to reaffirm that the individual paths we chose were ultimately the right ones for us.

Livvie thinks children and marriage are overrated. She now lives in a pristinely perfect, designer home, which is spread over three levels and clings to the side of a valley. A few times over the years she’s come to stay for the weekend, but I always feel awkward as it’s hard to keep the house quiet with a constant throng of girls parading through it. Livvie went on to have a single, but exciting, life and now runs her own interior-design company named Bradley’s Design Creative. She works very closely with a building company in which she has a part share. If a client wants their house remodelled before the interior is redesigned, then Livvie oversees the whole project. Of course, I probably flatter myself thinking that Livvie had the life I would have had if I hadn’t met Josh. Would I have been that successful? I doubt it. But when I told her I was thinking of returning to work she had immediately offered me a job.

‘You must come and work for me, Ellie,’ she’d cooed down the phone and I envied her that calm, sultry, yet professional, voice. I was used to being a drill sergeant at home and having to talk just that little bit higher and louder than two noisy girls, and a husband with a distinctly tenor voice. I’d readjusted my pitch and tone in an attempt to bolster my flagging confidence.

‘I don’t know, Livvie, it’s very kind of you but I’m going to need some time to rediscover the, um, other side of me. I’m not sure what I have to offer. I’ve probably forgotten everything I learnt. It feels like a lifetime ago.’

‘Nonsense. Your eye for a good design is instinctive; that’s not something that can be learnt. Plus, both of the girls are at school now, so how else will you fill your day? What you have is life experience and common sense. That’s in short supply at the moment, believe me. Some of the people I employ might have really good credentials, but give them a problem and it’s instantly a crisis. I’m looking for someone with a cool head, who can make decisions and think outside the box. I’ve seen the way you boss that family of yours around and keep them on track, Ellie. Those are precisely the skills I need. You would be doing me a favour.’