Sisters - Michelle Frances Page 0,19

enjoyable. She’d be able to relax, to let go of some of the tension in her shoulders, and wasn’t that the whole point of this holiday? Life was for enjoying – you could get run over by a bus tomorrow. Also, she noted with pleasure, this one had fabric cushions on the chair seats.

They ordered and sat back, gazing out at the sea. Then Susanna rummaged in her bag, pulled out her phone. She held it up to Abby and Ellie.

‘Smile!’

‘Mum!’ protested Ellie lightly, but it was no good and Susanna got her picture.

‘Oh, I could stay here forever,’ said Susanna, sighing and taking a long drink from a glass of iced water.

Ellie saw Abby rip off a piece of bread and dip it in olive oil, her face expressionless.

‘Think you might cramp Abby’s style, Mum,’ she said. ‘She is a newly-wed after all.’

‘Of course. It’s been so nice to finally meet Matteo. I can understand why you wanted to keep him to yourself for so long.’ She put down her glass. ‘Isn’t this lovely? The three of us being here. Getting on. It’s important, you know, that we make the most of the good times.’

‘What are you going on about?’ asked Ellie.

‘Nothing. Just being sentimental. Enjoying seeing my children spend some time together. Nothing should get between two sisters, you must always remember that.’

Abby was stony-faced but then the food arrived, breaking the moment.

Ellie thought that her sister seemed quiet during lunch. Then Susanna got up to use the bathroom and it was just the two of them, sitting back, eyes drawn again to the sparkling Tyrrhenian Sea. A group of young men in swimwear walked along the beach, bronzed, oiled bodies gleaming in the sunshine.

‘Nice view,’ said Ellie and Abby couldn’t help but smile.

Ellie pondered at how so many Italian men seemed to beat their English counterparts in the looks department. She wondered if they treated their women well; Matteo certainly seemed to dote on Abby – little touches to her knee, a whisper in her ear, a sense of looking out for her. Ellie felt another glint of envy. Her own love life was littered with the carcasses of disasters, the latest being a six-month relationship with a married man. She hadn’t known he was married when she’d met him at the gym. He’d asked her out for a coffee after a class and they were sleeping together by the end of the week. He worked in something to do with technical design at a local company, a career that had impressed her, and he would take her out for dinner at least twice a week, always in her part of London as he said he didn’t want her travelling home alone late at night, or needing to get up early in the morning just to get to work. What she’d perceived as chivalry was actually his avoidance of admitting that his home in north London was filled with a wife and two children, and therefore it wasn’t really convenient to invite her back there.

It had hurt like hell when she’d discovered his deception – and it was humiliating too. She’d told friends about him – although not Abby, thank goodness. The truth was, she’d been saving that one up, something she could finally compete with Abby on. She’d been looking forward to dropping it casually into conversation; thank God she hadn’t got around to mentioning him. She still cringed at the potential shame of having to explain to her big sister that she’d failed so mightily in her choice of boyfriend. Especially with Abby so perfectly married. Matteo had fallen into her lap – a chance meeting that was worthy of a Hollywood plotline. Ellie was reminded again of her sister’s mugging, of how Abby had kept it to herself.

‘Was it here, in Elba? Where you met Matteo?’

Abby waited a moment before she answered. ‘No. In Florence. That’s where Matteo was working at the time.’

‘What happened?’

‘I don’t really want to talk about it.’

‘You told Mum.’

‘That was the hospital. They called her. She was next of kin.’

‘Is that how you got your scar? From your attacker?’

Abby stiffened. ‘I said I don’t want to talk about it.’

Ellie could feel her irritation rising. Why was her sister always so stubbornly secretive?

‘Why not?’

‘What?’

‘You never tell me anything. Anything big you do in your life, you keep from me. I didn’t even know you were getting married.’

‘It was a spur of the moment thing.’

‘So spur of the moment you couldn’t even