Chapter 12
‘There she is,’ said Disa as they rounded a bend in the narrow path running alongside the canal.
Fen saw her at once, sitting at an aluminium-topped table outside a bar, wearing an orange shirt, denim shorts and white flip-flops.
Having read her way through Molly’s blog, she’d seen plenty of photos depicting all aspects of her life here in Venice.
It was thanks to Molly that she’d learned that cafés in Italy were called bars.
Her wavy brown hair was tied up in a casual topknot and there were silver bangles on her left arm, glinting in the sunlight as she checked her watch, then looked to the left and spotted them making their way towards her.
She was on her feet when they reached her, looking faintly apprehensive.
Disa said, ‘Thank you for this. I know it must have come as a shock to you. And sorry for the subterfuge yesterday. But it’s good to properly meet you.’
‘Thanks.’ Molly turned. ‘And you must be Fenna. I gather you’ve only just found out about all this as well.’
Fen smiled. ‘It’s been a bit of a bolt from the blue.’ But it was exciting, too. A brand-new relative, appearing out of nowhere, and she seemed nice.
‘Who knew this was how I’d be spending my morning off?’ Molly returned the smile. ‘Are you OK, though?’
This pretty brunette, only three years her senior, was her aunt.
Her mother’s half-sister. Her grandfather’s other daughter.
Fen could barely tear her eyes away from her, because seeing her in those online photos was one thing, but recognising the filial similarities with her own mum was an emotional experience.
Their colouring might be different, but they shared the same straight eyebrows, rounded cheeks and neat jawlines.
The likeness was even more striking when it became apparent that both of them had inherited their unmistakable smile from Declan.
‘You’re seeing it as well, aren’t you?’ said Disa. ‘It’s the strangest sensation.’
Molly’s straight eyebrows slanted with concern. ‘In a bad way?’
‘Not at all, just strange-strange, seeing hints of Declan in you.’ As they pulled out chairs and sat down, Disa rested a hand on Molly’s arm. ‘It all happened many years ago. It’s lovely to be able to meet you.’
‘It probably sounds silly, but I can’t help feeling a bit guilty. Before he died, it always felt like we’d been stealing a bit of him away from his real family.’
‘You absolutely mustn’t feel guilty. And you lost your birth father. That can’t have been easy, even if you hadn’t seen him for years.’
Molly looked at Fen. ‘And you lost your mum. I’m so sorry.’ She turned to Disa. ‘For you too. It must have been unbearable.’
‘It was. But we get through these things because we have to.’ Disa nodded. ‘We don’t have a choice.’
They ordered from the waiter, then Molly glanced down at the large canvas carrier bag on the ground next to Disa’s chair. ‘The things you mentioned bringing with you. Are they in that bag?’
‘They are. Everything I found is in here.’ Leaning sideways, Disa lifted it onto her lap. ‘I didn’t know if you’d want the photos of you with your dad, but—’
‘Yes,’ Molly blurted out, ‘I really do. Please. We lost all our photo albums when a frozen pipe burst in the loft and flooded our flat, so I have hardly any pictures of him. Or of us together.’
‘In that case, I’m glad I brought them with me.’
‘Me too. It’s so kind of you to do this. I really loved him.’ Watching as Disa drew out the first packet of photographs, Molly’s eyes sheened over. She blinked and surreptitiously wiped at them with her thumb.
When the waiter had brought their drinks and departed, Disa said, ‘Your mother loved him too.’
‘Are you angry with her?’
‘Honestly? I don’t know. Sometimes I am, other times it’s easier.
Then I find myself feeling sorry for her, because she never did get what she wanted.
’ Disa took a sip of her caffè macchiato.
‘And it might be bad manners to read someone else’s private correspondence, but when it’s from your husband’s mistress, I think it’s allowed.
Of course I read every letter.’ She pulled out the padded envelope, then dropped it back into the bag.
‘But I don’t know if you should. Some of them are very emotional.
Handing over the photos is the reason I’m here.
If your mother would like to have her letters back, I can post them to her. ’
‘You’d do that?’ Molly looked surprised.
‘Why not? It all happened many years ago. Declan’s no longer here for any of us. Ask her,’ said Disa. ‘If she doesn’t want them, I’ll burn them myself. Anyway, there are plenty of photos for you to be going on with. He always did love taking them.’
Having watched Molly as she spread the photographs out over the table, Fen said suddenly, ‘Mum used to do that!’
Molly looked up, confused. ‘What, take lots of photos?’
‘No, that thing with your hand.’ As she’d been leaning in, studying the photographs and touching the corner of each one with her right hand, Molly had been rapidly tapping the second finger and thumb of her left hand together.
‘It’s exactly what she always did when she was concentrating on something. ’
‘You’re right,’ Disa exclaimed. ‘She did!’
‘That’s so weird. It’s a habit, something I’ve always done.’ Molly was now gazing in fascination at her own left hand. ‘Maybe we copied it from Dad.’
‘Except I don’t remember him ever doing it. But the more I look at you, the more similarities I’m seeing,’ Disa marvelled. ‘It’s uncanny.’
Molly beamed and showed them a photo. ‘I love this one.’
It was an informal snap, presumably taken by her mother, of Declan and Molly kicking their way through a mound of autumn leaves.
He was laughing at her as she clutched handfuls of orange and crimson horse chestnut leaves and waved her arms in the air.
Molly was around the age Fen had been when Disa had taken that photo of them together in the snow as they’d made their way home from school through Birdcage Walk.
Pulling out her phone, Fen found it and showed Molly, who exclaimed, ‘That’s so brilliant!
We both look so happy.’ She paused, then added impulsively, ‘I know we don’t know each other at all, but meeting you today, it does kind of feel like we could be sisters. ’
Fen looked at her and nodded. Yes, Molly was her aunt, but it really did feel that way. Reaching for her hand, she gave it a squeeze. ‘It does.’
‘My goodness. You girls.’ Disa dabbed at her eyes with a serviette. ‘I’m so glad we found you.’
‘Not as glad as I am.’ Molly picked up another photo, the second finger and thumb still tap-tapping together as she studied it. Leaning sideways, Fen saw that this was one of Molly on her own, in a little red Santa suit, opening presents in front of a Christmas tree.
‘Obviously we never saw Dad on Christmas Day. He usually came the week before, to drop off presents,’ Molly explained.
‘This must have been one of the last times I saw him. Mum wasn’t happy about us being his dirty little secret, and she hated seeing me get so upset every time he left.
She’d met Harry by then, and things had turned serious, so she told Dad it would be better if he didn’t visit us any more.
She wanted me to have a proper father figure, so we could live together like a normal family.
I think those years of being a single parent were pretty hard for her. ’
Disa nodded. ‘They were. It’s all there in the letters she sent him.’
‘It can’t have been easy for Dad either.
’ Molly shook her head. ‘He couldn’t split himself in two.
Mum was doing what she thought was best for us.
And I did like Harry; it was much better having him around all the time.
As the years went by, although I still missed Dad, I suppose I got used to not seeing him any more. Plus, it wasn’t as if I had a choice.’
‘That’s sad,’ said Disa.
‘My plan was always to get back in touch with him once I turned eighteen. But Harry was never keen on that idea, and I didn’t want to upset him, so I ended up putting it off for a bit longer.
But I told myself that was OK, because we had all the time in the world to get back together.
’ Molly gazed down at the photo in her right hand and took a slow breath. ‘Except it turned out we didn’t.’
Disa looked desolate. ‘How did you find out?’
‘Mum had always kept him updated about me. She wondered why he hadn’t replied to her last letter, because he always did reply. She wrote again, and still nothing. That was when she called his office. They assumed she was a business client and told her he’d died three weeks earlier.’
‘I can’t imagine. Such a terrible shock.’
‘It was. We looked his name up online and read about the accident. I was devastated, but I also felt so guilty, because I should have tried harder to see him again. And Mum was in pieces too.’ Molly turned to Disa.
‘Luckily you hadn’t been into the office yet to collect his belongings.
Mum contacted his secretary and asked her to destroy the letters she’d sent him after he’d died. ’
‘Margaret.’ Fen remembered the name of her grandfather’s long-standing secretary. ‘So does that mean she knew about you and your mum?’
‘I think so. Apparently she was very loyal to him. But the reason Mum did that was so you wouldn’t find out about us.’ Molly addressed Disa again. ‘She didn’t want to cause you any more grief than you were already going through.’
‘That was good of her.’ Disa nodded. ‘I wondered if she expected to be left anything in his will.’
‘No. Dad made monthly payments to her up until we moved in with Harry. She said he would have carried on, but Harry wanted to take over after that. And since she didn’t want Dad to see me any more, she thought it was unfair to take his money. So that was when it stopped.’
Fen looked at Disa. ‘But you never knew he was making regular payments?’
‘He owned his own successful company. And I owned mine.’ Disa shrugged.
‘We kept separate bank accounts. Even if I’d wanted to examine his statements, which I didn’t, he could have covered his tracks easily enough.
If we’d been living on the breadline, it would have been a different matter, of course.
But we weren’t. Sweetheart, are you all right?
’ Concerned, she noticed Molly blinking back tears as she gazed at another photo.
‘I’m OK.’ Molly hastily wiped her eyes. ‘It’s .
. . a lot. All the old memories are flooding back.
I’ve just remembered he gave me a toy dog called Binky and used to call me Pinky.
And when I knew he was coming to visit us, I’d stand at the bedroom window, waiting for his car to pull up outside.
I was always bursting with excitement, knowing I was about to see him again. I really did love him, so much.’
‘And he obviously loved you too. We can tell you more about him. We’re here all week,’ Disa reminded her.
‘I tell you what, we’ve arranged to go out to dinner with Leon and Jamie tomorrow evening, at a little place behind the Ponte delle Guglie that’s been recommended.
If you’re free, why don’t you join us?’ She shrugged.
‘If you can’t make it, we can arrange something for another night. ’
‘I’m working an early shift tomorrow, so that’d be perfect. And I’ve heard about that restaurant but never been there. It sounds fantastic.’ Molly’s eyes shone. ‘Jamie’s really nice, isn’t he? It’d be fab to see him again.’
‘Of course it would. Now we all know each other, why not make a party of it?’
Fen smiled, because this was Disa all over; collecting new friends and getting everyone together was what she loved to do, and by widening the circle, it might make tomorrow evening less intense, more relaxed and fun.
Over the years, too, she’d shown a flair for matchmaking, and had gained a reputation for introducing people to each other who’d ended up becoming bona fide couples.
Glancing across at Molly, Fen wondered if her grandmother was about to add to that number. That was the thing about chemistry: you never could tell. Who knew when that elusive mutual spark between strangers might strike?
And was it more likely to happen when you were in one of the most romantic cities in the world?