1
England
Spring, 2001
Luca stood alone in the library, gazing out of the window at the glistening gardens of Dinton Manor. The clouds hung low and heavy in the Hampshire sky, releasing a light but persistent drizzle. A couple of blackbirds pecked the grass in search of worms before returning to the towering lime trees that had just begun to sprout new green leaves. The peaceful silence was punctuated every now and then by whoops of laughter that erupted from the drawing-room on the other side of the hall where the rest of the house party were commenting loudly on the Sunday papers or playing Scrabble. Luca found their joie de vivre grating. He had only come for Freya, having lost touch with her over the years. He admired her home, her family, her obvious contentment, and realised that in the last two decades he had somehow drifted off course.
He blew smoke against the glass, lost in a fog of melancholy as he considered his life. He was forty-one. Single again. Father of two little girls entangled in the wreckage of an acrimonious divorce. Unemployed, having quit the City after twenty years as a fund manager, making money with such dedication that making money had become an end in itself – a greedy, empty existence that gave him no satisfaction.
He had left the City in a blaze of speculation. Telephones had buzzed as the news travelled across continents, leaving the banking world in a state of shock. Luca Chancellor, with a billion under management, had sold out to his two partners and just walked away. No one could explain it and Luca wasn’t giving any answers. Instead, he had put his head down, turned off his mobile telephone and fled to the countryside. After a structured life in finance his newfound freedom made him uneasy; it had no limits.
Before he could dwell further on his unravelling life, he sensed he was no longer alone. The scent of ginger lily reminded him of that summer long ago when he and Freya had been lovers. She slid her arm around his waist and leaned against him.
‘Here you are, Luca. What are you doing?’
‘Thinking.’
‘Thinking’s dangerous. What are you thinking about?’
The smile in her voice encouraged him. ‘You and me. Summer of seventy-nine.’
‘You mean the summer I fell in love with you, only to be rejected when autumn came?’ She laughed, able now to make light of a situation that had hurt her deeply at the time. ‘Cast aside with all the other women who thought they’d be the one to tame you.’
‘You’ve always been different. Letting you go was the stupidest thing I ever did.’
‘Don’t be so hard on yourself. It wasn’t meant to be.’
‘You would have been good for me.’
‘I’m not sure you’d have been good for me. You were far too handsome and arrogant to stay faithful to one woman.’
‘I’m a different man from the one I was back then.’
‘Leopards don’t change their spots. Once a bounder, always a bounder. Still, you lasted with Claire for what? Ten years? That’s nine more than I expected.’
‘Look at you,’ he said, turning to face her, his cornflower-blue eyes intense with regret. ‘Happily married to Miles. Big, beautiful country house. Four blond, rosy children.’ He ran his gaze over her features. ‘More beautiful with every passing year.’
She blushed. ‘Oh, Luca, really, don’t. You only want what you can’t have.’
‘Are you happy with Miles?’
‘Very.’ She curled a tendril of blonde hair behind her ear.
‘Pity. I’d like to make love to you again.’
Freya withdrew her arm. ‘Just because you’re half Italian doesn’t mean you can say things like that to a married woman.’
‘You’re my oldest friend. There’s nothing I can’t say to you.’ He dragged on his cigarette, now barely a stub.
She lifted a china ashtray from the sofa table and handed it to him. ‘That’s a horrid habit. You should quit.’
‘Now’s not a good time.’
‘It never is.’
‘It’s as if I’m dying and seeing my life pass before my eyes. I was so consumed with making money I never had time for the important things. I’ve messed up my marriage. I never wanted to be one of those fathers who tears his children’s lives apart. But look at me. I’ve made more money than even Claire can spend in a lifetime. I doubt she can remember the last time she travelled commercial. Bloody woman’s fleecing me for as much as she can get. Yet, if she’s a monster, I’ve only myself to blame for turning her into one. Money’s no substitute for love. In spite of all my worldly goods, Freya, I’m an empty vessel.’