Chapter Eleven
CHAPTER ELEVEN
‘Shouldn’t you better get going?’ Mrs Tenby asked gently.
Ivy peered at the clock on the computer and sighed. ‘Yes, thank you, Mrs Tenby.’
The woman had softened towards her once she’d realised that Ivy wasn’t some ‘young upstart’ hoping to come in and take over the library with plans for ‘modernisation’. Of course, the money she had secured had also helped.
Antonio had been better than his word and by the time Ivy had returned to work the day after the flight that had brought her and Ms Quell back from Tuscany, the library association had matched the funds he’d donated and Mrs Tenby had been given the green light to move forward with the afterschool club.
Ivy had not been as surprised as Mrs Tenby that the donation from Antonio was in fact more than double what had originally been promised, but she was immensely pleased that it allowed for the employment of another staff member, so that they could provide even more places for local children.
The generosity and the momentum it brought had made the staff happy and optimistic, excited for the future plans and programmes they could now explore.
It shouldn’t have made it harder for Ivy, but it did. Everything did.
Apparently, the moment she had set foot back into her old life, the hopeful, determined Ivy who had stood proud and powerful in Antonio’s living room facing a future without him had faded like a suntan, leaving the old, pale Ivy feeling heartbroken.
Oh, she was still determined to do the things that she’d realised she wanted to do: to travel the world, to continue to take photographs. But that pervasive sense of loneliness was hard to ignore.
It was a cycle of emotions that she would have to process. She knew the drill. Yes, it hurt, but it wouldn’t be for ever. And she clung desperately with both hands to the fact that she was doing the right thing, that demanding more for herself was healing.
Only there wasn’t a painkiller for this.
There wasn’t something that could take this ache away.
Especially as there were reminders of Antonio everywhere.
Each question on the paperwork Ms Quell had given her on the flight home had burned like a brand, punctuating all that she’d had so very briefly and all that she’d lost. And when she’d tried to unpack the clothes from Italy, she’d realised that she’d never be able to wear them.
Not as Ivy McKellen. Because they belonged only to Mrs Antonio Gallo.
As she got on the bus to take her to the courthouse, her phone buzzed with another message from Jamie.
He’d been a little surprised when she’d told him that he couldn’t stay with her this time while he was on leave, but very understanding.
And, strangely, he’d thanked her for all she’d already done for him.
It wasn’t that he’d been wilfully obtuse about it, but it was quite amazing how positively he’d responded to the boundary she’d put in place. And then she wondered if perhaps she’d done that sooner, he might have had the opportunity to show her that he could respect it sooner.
The thought made her slightly sad for herself and for Jamie, but also hopeful for the kind of relationship that they might have in the future. He really had turned himself around and Ivy knew that wouldn’t have been possible without Antonio.
He had changed her life in so many ways and now, Ivy thought, it was time to take that life and do something with it.
And if in her mind’s eye she saw that future being in Italy, or travelling around the world, Antonio within reach, protecting her, steadying her while she took photographs, while they touched and kissed and laughed and loved…
She swallowed the painful lump that had formed in her throat.
That was just a dream. Nothing more than the remnants of a fantasy of what could have been.
The ding of the bus bell signalled it was stopping near the court and Ivy rose to her feet, waiting for others to get off before she stepped out onto the pavement.
Despite the fact that it was summer, that only a week and a half ago she’d been in Italy where the sun had kissed her skin and warmed the world around her, England felt cold, and what passed for warm here sent a shiver down her spine.
She longed for the days when she could wear sunglasses that would hide how she squinted at the world, and smiled at the fanciful idea of moving to a warmer country just for that.
She had been spoilt and she just needed to get over it, she told herself firmly.
But the moment she saw Antonio’s lawyer in the hallway outside the courtroom, Ivy knew that all the thoughts that had filled her head had been nothing more than a distraction. Because suddenly she was a hair’s breadth from bursting into tears.
He’d chosen Maria. He’d chosen someone else over her and God, it hurt.
It really hurt. Because she loved him so damn much.
Her breath quivered in her lungs and she had to stop, had to turn to face the wall and get herself together.
She fisted her hands, her nails forming crescent moons deep into her palms.
You can do this. You have to.
She took one deep breath and then another before making her way towards Simon. She wasn’t capable of a smile, but she greeted him the best she could.
‘Ms McKellen,’ he said, looking slightly harried. ‘This way, please.’
He gestured for her to follow him through a door and Ivy was startled to find herself in an actual court this time, not the judge’s chambers.
It didn’t quite look like the courts she’d seen in TV dramas, but then again, this was South West London.
There was no rich mahogany, no barristers in wigs.
Instead, there was pine and plain red cotton seat cushions, though Judge Carmondy, sitting in the middle of the raised dais, still wore his black gown.
Simon showed her to a seat behind a table and proceeded to take the one beside her.
‘Where’s Antonio?’ she asked in a whisper.
‘Coming.’
‘Shouldn’t you be sitting with him?’ she asked.
‘No. He fired me and hired me for you.’
‘What? He fired you? Why?’ she demanded, confused and off-balance.
Simon made a quieting gesture as the door opened and Antonio stalked in.
Her hungry gaze devoured him. He refused to look her way, but that only allowed her free rein to indulge in all the things that she’d been missing.
Oh, she had been starved of him. She’d nearly convinced herself that she’d imagined his perfection.
But she hadn’t. Her whole body hummed in his presence.
It recognised him as a part of her and her heart ached even more.
And that hurt made her a little nauseous.
She watched Antonio take a seat on the opposite side of the room, wanting him to look her way. But she couldn’t be sure that she wouldn’t break into a thousand pieces if he did. Judge Carmondy cleared his throat as one of the women in the court announced that they were now in session.
Antonio couldn’t remember ever being more nervous in his life. Partly because until now there had been nothing nearly so valuable to him as Ivy. As this .
‘I have received the reports from the assessment from Ms Quell and read over both of your written assessments,’ Judge Carmondy began, peering between his papers and acknowledging Ms Quell, who sat just behind Antonio in the courtroom.
‘Thank you both for your concerted effort to prove that you have taken this matter seriously. It is appreciated,’ he said with a long hard stare at Antonio.
Finally relenting, he leaned back in his chair, as if already moving on to his next case.
‘I take it we are ready to proceed with your divorce?’ he asked.
‘No, Your Honour,’ Antonio said.
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘You’re pardoned,’ Antonio replied, confused by the judge’s response.
‘Don’t get smart with me, Mr Gallo. Do you or do you not want a divorce from Ms McKellen? Which I was on the verge of granting, may I say.’
‘No. I don’t want a divorce.’
He felt the shockwaves ripple out from where Ivy, his wife—the woman he loved—sat, but he couldn’t risk looking at her. Not yet. If he did, he might never get through what he needed to say.
‘Explain yourself. Quickly and succinctly, or I shall find you in contempt of court,’ Judge Carmondy warned.
‘I hate paperwork,’ Antonio began.
Carmondy side-eyed him a warning glance.
‘All of it. I hate the things I have to sign as a business owner, I hate receiving it, I hate it as documentation and if I never sign another piece of paper in my life it would make me extremely happy.’
‘Mr Gallo. Get to the point. Soon.’
‘You accused me of not taking this marriage seriously. And I didn’t, Your Honour.
You were absolutely right,’ he confessed.
‘Marriage, to me, was just another piece of paper, certainly not holding any greater importance to me than simply a means to an end. My marriage to Ivy McKellen was everything you thought it was.’
He could practically see the steam rising from Carmondy’s ears.
‘Almost,’ Antonio added before the judge could, as he’d threatened, find him in contempt.
‘My dislike of paperwork was hard learned. It started with the biological parents who signed away their rights to me on papers just like these,’ he said, pointing to the file of legal documents on the table in front of him.
‘And then, with two signatures on more paperwork, I was claimed by adoption papers. For a while. Until yet another signature on even more paperwork removed my mother from her husband as his wife, and me from him as a son. My grandfather,’ Antonio said with a rueful laugh, ‘he cut me from his legacy, striking my name from his paperwork. So, Your Honour. I’d like to think that I have, as you would say, just cause to have an issue with paperwork. ’
Judge Carmondy acknowledged it with a nod, his hard eyes softening just a little, enough to encourage Antonio to continue.