Sean had the uncanny knack of knowing when she would be in the hotel dining room for breakfast, and had also signed up for the morning excursion to the Duomo, like herself. By late afternoon, Abby had had enough. She let the rep know she was going off on her own, declining Sean’s offer of company as politely as possible, and when he wouldn’t take no for an answer, she waited until he’d stepped behind a pillar at another grand church and made a run for it.
The sudden freedom made her giddy. She laughed to herself as she scuttled out of the church and down the street, ducking left and right, just in case Sean should try and follow. When she was certain she’d shaken him off, Abby looked around and gasped at what she saw: the Ponte Vecchio.
She wandered onto the spectacular bridge where shop after shop was crammed into the medieval architecture. It was a dazzling sight, not least because so many of them were fine jewellers. Abby gazed in the windows at the antique brooches made of gleaming enamel, the shell cameos, bright semi-precious stones laced together into a gold bracelet to adorn a nineteenth-century wrist, coral pendants carved into the faces of Roman gods. Most of it was eye-wateringly expensive and Abby gaped, astonished and a little disapproving – why would anyone want to spend so much on one item? Then, in a less ostentatious shop, she saw a silver bracelet set with lapis lazuli and there was something about the intensity of the blue that took her breath away. She stopped and stared. It seemed to be talking to her, something that she tried to dismiss as ridiculous, but she couldn’t take her eyes off it. She allowed herself a glance at the price tag and was taken aback to see it was actually affordable. Except it would use up the entire amount she’d brought out to Florence – the whole 150 euros. She’d planned her budget carefully – it was enough to last the whole time she was there. She hugged her bag closer, thought of her purse nestled inside. If she spent the money, she’d have to withdraw more and so eat into next month’s budget.
Abby made herself walk on quickly and not look back. The further she got from the shop, the easier it would be to forget about the bracelet. She felt a pang of deep disappointment as she strode along the bridge but then gave herself a stern talking-to.It’ll be worth it. Think of your savings. Think of that early retirement.
After that she didn’t feel much like window-shopping and, in fact, as she debated what to do next, she realized she’d not noticed the evening draw in. The bridge lights were on now and, tummy rumbling, she checked her watch and couldn’t believe it had just gone eight o’clock. Dinner was served at the hotel at eight thirty so Abby checked her phone and reckoned on a shortcut to get her back in time.
She headed back over the river, holding her phone out so she could follow the map, and was so busy concentrating on the screen she failed to notice her surroundings change. The tourist-busy streets had disappeared and she was in a narrow alley overshadowed by tall buildings either side. The street lighting was set far apart and the lamps were dim, leaving long stretches of darkness.
It was the quiet that got her attention first. The kind of silence that hung ominously in the air. Abby looked up from her phone and gave an involuntary shiver. There was no one around and she didn’t like the sensation of being enclosed by the buildings. She hurried onwards, looking up for the end of the alley so she could break out into the open again, but there was a bend ahead that she couldn’t see round.
A clatter sounded behind her, something kicked in the street, a drinks can perhaps. Abby turned and saw a human figure in the shadows. Shoulders hunched, she quickened her pace, simultaneously tucking her phone into her pocket, out of sight. There was a turning up ahead, another street leading off this one; maybe it would take her back to the main drag. She hurried up to it and was almost there when a man stepped out of that very same turning right in front of her.
Abby jumped. She stopped, her heart hammering. Instinctively she knew the shadowy figure behind her had caught up.
‘Borsa,’ demanded the man in front of her, indicating her bag. He was thin, with sunken shadows under his wired eyes. He kept moving the entire time; desperation seemed to engulf his limbs and he twitched and ticked.
She clutched it tighter, some mistimed sense of justice making her deeply indignant. Why should she hand her bag over to some junkie? She could feel the other man was right behind her but up ahead she could see a main street full of people and noise. Surely she could get to it in time, and even if she couldn’t, the very fact she was running for it would scare these two addicts away. They looked like chancers, opportunists who would shrink back into the shadows the minute they might be exposed. She dodged around the man in front and was about to break into a sprint when a white-hot pain seared her shoulder. She found herself stumbling, then falling and hitting the ground with such force her chin felt as if it had been pushed back into her skull. Senses slowed by the pain, she was one step behind the man wrenching her bag off her shoulder and failed to hold on to it. The pain in her shoulder screamed out – or was that her? – and then a crack to her hip made her lose focus and she realized she’d been kicked. She tried to curl up in defence, her hands protecting her head as she cowered at their feet. From her position on the ground she could see her phone had fallen out of her pocket and had skidded across the cobbles. One of her attackers retrieved it and then they were gone, their trainer-clad footsteps running off in the other direction.
She lay there for a while, unable to move. She wasn’t sure how to get up; it was as if her body had lost its sense of self-belief, no longer knew how to operate muscles and tendons that it had been controlling for thirty-five years. She felt a warm wetness on her right shoulder and had an overwhelming urge to find out what it was. It was this that propelled her through the pain and paralysis, and she dragged herself up off the street, arching a screaming arm backwards, the agony almost unbearable as she touched blood.
There was a lot. Too much, thought Abby as she began to stumble towards the main street she could still see up ahead. As she broke out of the alley, back into the lights and the fun-seeking tourists, the terror of what had just happened suddenly engulfed her and she was so relieved to see a policeman that she lunged for him, just as he looked up and caught her in his arms.
She had a fractured jaw, severe bruising to the hip and a two-inch stab wound on her right shoulder. She’d been in hospital for three days, and was aware her short break had encroached on the beginning of a new working week. All her other Someone Special companions would have gone home now. She’d half wondered if she’d hear from Sean but no message had made its way to her via the rep who visited to talk her through her journey back to the UK. When the rep left the hospital, after filling in various forms, she burst into tears.
She sobbed silently, not wanting to draw the attention of the nurses. She was used to looking after herself, to not having a guardian to fall back on. She’d prided herself on successfully building her own fortress, on relying on no one but herself. Abby could look after Abby. Except, the first time she fell into trouble, she had behaved pitifully. She hadn’t fought back. She hadn’t even screamed. She’d just let those thugs do whatever they wanted, let them take her things, and had lain in the dirt, weak and pathetic.
A polite cough drew her out of her reverie. Flustered, Abby wiped her eyes and looked up. A policeman was stood at a respectful distance from the foot of the bed. Abby recognized him as the one she’d collapsed onto on the night of the mugging.
‘I’m sorry to disturb you,’ he said.
Abby swallowed down the anguish and made herself sit up. ‘It’s OK,’ she said stiffly.
‘I’m here to talk to you about the incident the other evening,’ said the policeman. ‘My name is Captain Matteo Morelli.’
She’d given him a description of one of her attackers – the other man, the one who’d thrust his knife into her shoulder, she hadn’t seen. Captain Morelli had asked if he could stay in touch while the police tried to pursue the culprits. Of course, nothing came of it. Back in the UK, Abby was left broken. The mugging had changed her. She lost a client at work – or at least, she knew her boss silently blamed her for the client’s withdrawal of business. Before she’d left for her trip she’d been at the top of her game. A director with lucrative bonuses, shares in the company. But now she was petrified of everything. She couldn’t walk home from the station at night, which put paid to staying late at the office. In fact, she no longer even had the energy for work; she could barely get up in the morning. The whole thing felt so pointless. All that effort, all those savings, and for what? What if she’d lost her life that night in the alley?
The hospital staff had got in touch with Susanna when Abby was admitted, but Abby had fobbed her off with a story of a minor theft and downplayed the physical injuries. She’d made it sound so inconsequential she knew her mother was likely to forget about it fairly quickly. Abby didn’t bother telling Ellie at all. She couldn’t. She’d spent her entire life proving to her sister and her mother that she was entirely self-sufficient and now she felt great shame at what she’d allowed to happen.
The official emails from Matteo had migrated to a personal address and Abby kept up the correspondence as a distraction from work as much as anything else. But she also got a comfort from them. Matteo was the person who’d been there when she needed help. He was the only one who fully understood what she’d been through. They met up in London a couple of times and then Abby went to visit him on the island of Elba, where he’d been offered a new post. They sat in cafes by the beaches, the skies still blue even in winter, and Abby relished the peace, the tranquil pace of life. People were friendly; the villagers appeared to all know one another and look out for each other. Above all, it seemed safe.
During that trip he asked her to marry him. He also showed her a house he’d found, and when Abby went out into the back garden and saw the pathway to the sea, she felt herself well up.
Abby decided to quit her job. For good. It was the only rash thing she’d ever done in her life. Then she did the second rash thing – she bought the house with Matteo in the fear that she might change her mind about the retirement. Now there was no going back. They moved in together in early spring and Abby told herself she was living the dream.
FORTY-TWO
Abby opened her mouth to scream but no sound came out. She lifted her head off the gravel that was cutting into her cheek and looked up the alley, silently begging for someone to see her. People were passing by on the main street, just metres away, but totally oblivious to her attack. She tried to cry out again and again but her vocal cords failed to vibrate. She was aware of the two men beating her, of the pain and the overpowering sense of helplessness, and then she saw her mother up ahead. Her heart soared – surely Susanna had come to look for her? And despite the fact Abby was unable to cry out, she somehow sensed that Susanna would look straight down the alley and see her. But her mother was facing in the wrong direction.Turn, urged Abby desperately,look around, but Susanna didn’t and then she started to walk away. Panic gripped Abby, along with a sense of total and utter abandonment.
Her eyes flew open. Her heart was thudding in her chest and it took her a minute to understand where she was. She could feel her sweat on the sheets and pulled her damp T-shirt away from her body. Leaning over to the B & B’s bedside table, it was just light enough to check her watch. It was five thirty in the morning. Dawn was breaking and the room’s shadows were beginning to slowly lighten. Abby looked across at Ellie’s bed.
It was empty.
Puzzled, Abby got out from under the covers. She checked the bathroom but Ellie wasn’t there either. Her suitcase was still beside the bed, but her shoes that she’d left by the door were missing.
Abby quickly got dressed and packed up her things. She took both her and Ellie’s luggage and quietly carried it down the shadowy stairs. As she neared the ground floor, she thought she could hear a muffled voice, but then it became quiet and she felt she must have been mistaken.Where the hell is Ellie?
