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.”