Summer of Secrets (21 page)

‘And I suppose now, you want to crawl back to Jamie and pick up where you left off?’ she demanded. ‘Never mind that he’s been hurt like hell and . . .’

‘OK, there’s no need to go on about it, I’ve got the message,’ she said. ‘I want to be friends with Jamie – but just friends. I don’t reckon I’m
ready to commit to anyone. Unlike you . . . So, how’s it going with you and Ludo? Have you got it together yet?’

‘No,’ Caitlin said shortly.

‘No?’ repeated Izzy. ‘What have you been doing all this time?’

  CHAPTER 9  

‘She was assured of his affection.’

(Jane Austen,
Northanger Abbey
)

‘W
HAT ARE YOU DOING
?’ C
AITLIN WALKED UP BEHIND
Ludo as he was sitting in a deck chair on the terrace, an open book
in his hands.

‘Nothing much, why?’

‘I want you to do me a huge favour,’ she said. She figured she had nothing to lose; he wasn’t remotely interested in her romantically – but he did love his sister.
‘Come to Vernazza with me. Get the picture that Summer loves so much.’

‘I can’t,’ he replied flatly. ‘Dad would go ballistic . . .’

‘Ludo, you keep saying that your father shouldn’t have kept secrets, that you’re fed up with lies – but what are
you
doing about it? Zilch. Nothing.’

Ludo frowned but stayed silent.

‘Your mum had a talent, right?’

‘I guess,’ he said.

‘And your dad, for whatever reason, wanted it hidden away – I guess because he thought people would ask questions and find out that all her best stuff was done when she was manic,
right?’

‘He knew if there was an exhibition, she’d get interviewed by the press and – well, you never knew with Mum quite what would come out. And I suppose all this business with Tony
di Matteo was fresh in his mind. Imagine if she’d told the newspapers that Summer was . . .’

‘OK,’ Caitlin said. ‘But your mother’s dead and Summer’s alive and she needs to have something positive about her mum to hang on to.’

Ludo looked at her long and hard.

‘That’s really perceptive.’ He nodded slowly. ‘I get where you’re coming from.’

Page eleven of last month’s
Secrets of the Stars
magazine, she thought. But hey – what’s the point of reading if you can’t toss out the odd quote now and then?

‘OK,’ Ludo conceded. ‘I’ll come with you. Actually, I fancy a walk – can you cope with four miles?’

‘Of course I can.’ She smiled. With you, I could cope with a marathon.

‘Was she really talented?’ Ludo asked after he’d spent fifteen minutes talking to Lorenzo and looking at the boat picture over and over again. ‘I mean,
would this picture actually sell for money?’

Lorenzo laughed. ‘Only about eight hundred euros, maybe,’ he told him. ‘But this painting, it is a small one, and she paint it early in her career. Later, she became very good,
very, how you say,
passionate
artist. These paintings – well, now we are talking several thousand euros.’

Ludo whistled through his teeth.

‘OK – well, I’ll take this one back for my sister,’ he said resolutely. ‘Thank you, Lorenzo. And if you find any others . . .’

‘You will be first to know,’ Lorenzo assured him. ‘But you ask your father, eh? He have maybe fifty, hidden some place. Such waste – it is almost criminal.’

‘Let’s stop.’

Ludo sank down on to the grass at the side of the path, laid the picture carefully to one side and pulled Caitlin down beside him.

‘It’s not been much of a holiday for you so far, has it?’ he said ruefully. ‘You must be itching to go home, away from all the dramas.’

‘No way,’ Caitlin assured him. ‘How could anyone want to leave all this?’ She waved her hand at the view below them, at the azure-blue sea, the pastel painted houses and
the yachts bobbing like toys in a toddler’s bath.

‘Will you paint it?’ Ludo asked.

‘I’d love to,’ Caitlin said, nodding. ‘But it seems a bit tactless in view of . . .’

‘No, you must,’ Ludo insisted. ‘You said you had a school project?’

‘Yes, but I’ve got an ace idea for that,’ she told him eagerly. ‘Only I’d need your help.’

‘I’ll do what I can,’ he said.

‘See, what I thought was . . .’ She began. And stopped as his fingers delicately touched her lips.

‘Before you say anything, I need to know something,’ he said.

‘What?’

‘Is there anyone back at home?’

Caitlin frowned.

‘Loads of them,’ she said, puzzled. ‘One brother, three sisters . . .’

‘No, you muppet,’ he said, laughing. ‘I mean – a guy.’

She shook her head, not trusting herself to speak, and holding her breath.

‘Oh good,’ he said. ‘Because ever since you threw that drink over me, I’ve been wanting to kiss you. And now seems as good a time as any.’

They were all wrong, Caitlin decided. Every magazine she had ever read, every description of falling in love, was way short of the mark. The six days, three hours and
twenty-seven minutes since she had become Ludo’s girlfriend (she liked to say the phrase over and over in her head) had been the happiest of her entire sixteen years and ten months. She felt
prettier, cleverer, more confident than ever before; her painting – because Ludo had insisted that she paint – was flowing with an ease she’d never experienced; and nothing
– not even the fact that Jamie had insisted on returning to the UK with Izzy despite being told that he was just a mate –
nothing
could lower her spirits.

‘I guess you’ve had loads of girlfriends,’ she had said to Ludo that first day.

‘Hardly,’ he had replied. ‘Oh sure, there were girls I hung out with in the Sixth Form but it never worked out because I could never be myself with them. Asking them home was
pretty much a non-starter, answering questions about family – well, you can guess what that was like. And besides . . .’

He had paused and cupped her face in his hands.

‘You know what? You knowing
everything
and still being here, still fighting Summer’s corner, still mucking in with all the mess that’s my family – well, that makes
it all possible somehow.’

He had broken off then, laughing and accusing her of turning him into ‘a right wuss’ – but it had been enough.

Caitlin had known that it was OK to ask him this one last favour.

It had taken a whole day to persuade Summer’s father and another four days for him to get it organised, but now they were ready. Thankfully, Summer had been so occupied
with Alex, who was due to leave the following day for America, that she hadn’t taken much notice of Ludo and Caitlin, apart from hugging Caitlin on several occasions and saying how cool it
was that they were an item and how when she and Alex got married (which of course wouldn’t be for ages, but would definitely happen) Caitlin had to be chief bridesmaid.

Caitlin was the one detailed to lure Alex and Summer to the Garden House that evening.

‘It won’t take a minute,’ she said, when Summer protested that they were about to go down to Francesco’s for a drink. ‘You’ll love it. Trust me.’

She led them across the courtyard and flung open the door.

‘Oh!’ Summer stood on the threshold, transfixed. Every inch of the whitewashed walls was covered with Elena’s paintings. Some were tiny, pastel and pretty; others were huge,
with great sweeps of vermilion, magenta, black and gold; there were landscapes, abstracts and two strange skyscapes showing stars with faces and a moon that was exploding into a hundred sparkling
fragments.

But it was the picture on the far wall that Summer was staring at.

‘It’s us,’ she breathed. ‘It’s her and me.’

The picture was unlike any other. Summer’s mother had painted herself with a serene smile on her face, as she looked into the eyes of her daughter. Summer was shown laughing, her blond
hair falling over one side of her face as she leaned towards her mother.

It was, Caitlin thought, as natural and as real as any photograph.

‘It’s beautiful,’ Alex breathed. ‘They’re all amazing – but that one is stunning.’

Summer turned to her father, who had been standing quietly in the background.

‘You got them back.’ She stretched out a hand and he squeezed it. ‘What made you do it?’

‘Caitlin,’ he said simply. ‘She made me see that by hiding Elena’s pictures away, I wasn’t protecting her reputation, or stopping people from realising she was
bipolar. All I was doing was preventing the world from enjoying her talent. Celebrating her gifts.’

He turned to Summer.

‘I’m so sorry, darling,’ he murmured. ‘For everything. For not telling you the truth, for letting you think it was your fault . . .’

‘Shall we give him the stuff?’ Alex interrupted. ‘Now seems like a good time.’

Summer smiled and nodded.

‘It’s in the old stable,’ she said. ‘I’ll fetch it.’

Caitlin held her breath as Summer returned, clutching the holdall she’d seen in the church.

‘Alex brought these back from Boston,’ she told her father, pulling out several sheets of newspaper. ‘Look.’

Caitlin edged closer to Sir Magnus in the hopes of reading over his shoulder.

‘
Unknown artist’s work surprise shock at auction
,’ he read. ‘
Local restaurateur promises more to come
.’

‘My dad had ten pictures of Elena’s,’ Alex explained. ‘She insisted on giving them to him, and because of my mum’s feelings he sold six of them – and they
made a mint. He says he’s going to auction the rest next year.’

‘So that’s what was in the bag! And all the time I thought you were going to run away,’ Caitlin burst out.

‘So you
did
see us,’ Summer observed.

‘Sorry,’ Caitlin whispered. ‘I didn’t let on, though.’

‘It’s OK,’ Summer said, with a laugh. ‘I’m so happy now that I don’t care.’

She turned to her father.

‘See – when Alex showed me this cutting, I assumed that you’d sent the pictures overseas to be sold and not told me and . . .’

‘As if I’d do that!’ Sir Magnus cried. ‘I only stored them away because they reminded me too much of her illness and my ineptitude in dealing with things. I grew to hate
the smell of oil paint because it always heralded a bad patch.’

He touched Summer’s shoulder.

‘Would you like me to get the pictures back from Alex’s dad?’ he asked.

Summer shook her head.

‘No,’ she said. ‘It’s OK – but what’s going to happen to all these?’ She waved a hand at the paintings around her.

‘How about you choose the ones you want to keep,’ he said, ‘and we set up a permanent exhibition in the village for the others? Give your mum the fame she deserves?’

So much for me being the one to introduce the world to the art of Elena Cumani-Tilney, thought Caitlin. She seems to have done it perfectly well herself . . . even from beyond the grave.

‘I’m taking
Gina
out,’ Ludo told Caitlin later that afternoon. ‘Want to come?’

‘Yes, please,’ Caitlin replied eagerly. ‘Don’t know where Summer and Alex have got to, though.’

‘Good, because they’re not invited,’ he said. ‘This is just you and me. And before we go, we need to do some serious talking.’

Caitlin held her breath.

‘For one thing, gossip magazines. Now, is it to be
Art uncovered – the exposé of hidden sins
for
Prego
magazine, or maybe, on second thoughts, would you do
better with
Love, lies and lust in Liguria
for
Goss
?’

‘I wouldn’t – how could you think that?’ Caitlin burst out, feeling somewhat guilty at just how accurately he had interpreted her daydreaming.

‘I’m teasing you, silly,’ he laughed, pulling her towards him. ‘It’s just that on the plane you were so keen on all those rubbishy magazines and so adamant that you
read serious stuff too . . .’

‘I do!’

‘I guess that was the moment I fell in love with you.’

Caitlin caught her breath.

‘What did you say?’

‘I said, I fell in love with you.’

‘You’re in love with me?’ she whispered.

He nodded and kissed her.

‘You know I am.’

Caitlin shook her head.

‘But you never said the words,’ she murmured. ‘And if you don’t mind, could you possibly say them again?’