Page 113 of The Island Villa

“I’m tired of books where women are the victims. Have you ever noticed that? The number of books that show a woman running away on the cover? Men so often hold the power, but not this time. Not in the book I’ve written. The power is stripped from them, layer by layer. It was rather exciting if I’m honest.” She looked at her daughters, wondering if she needed to spell it out, but Adeline held her gaze and nodded. She understood, as Catherine had hoped she would, that although in real life it wasn’t always easy or possible to get justice, between the pages of a book she’d managed to deliver justice and also find a certain level of peace.

Adeline smiled. “I’m looking forward to reading it.”

“Me too,” Cassie said, and Andrew grunted as he spread honey thickly onto bread still warm from the oven.

“My advice?” he said. “Read it with the lights on. Or better still, read it during the day in bright sunlight.” He took a bite and honey dripped onto his fingers.

Cassie grinned. “What did Daphne say?”

“She is talking to my publisher right now, because although she adores the book, it most definitely isn’t a Catherine Swift. Loyal readers have certain expectations as you know, and I think I’ve rather crushed those expectations. Or maybe I’ve stabbed them...” She leaned forward. “Either way, I think there may be a vacancy in the romance genre for a new Swift.”

Cassie flushed. “I’ve decided I don’t want to be Swift. That feels wrong to me. It always did. I’m going to pick a different name. Adeline is helping me.”

“So far we’ve covered two pages of my notebook,” Adeline muttered, “so don’t expect this to be a quick process.”

Motherhood was often a challenge, Catherine thought, but sometimes things came together and produced a perfect moment. Like now, with her family gathered round the table and Adeline and Cassie with their heads together, dark and light, laughing.

They finished breakfast and took a walk along the beach before heading back to the villa.

While Adeline strolled ahead with her father, Cassie fell into step beside her mother.

“Can I ask you something?”

Catherine felt a ripple of tension. “Of course. Anything.”

“The night my father died...” Cassie stopped walking. “You said he fell downstairs. Is that what really happened?”

“Yes. As I told you, he’d had a drink and he tripped over a shoe.”

Cassie looked at her steadily. “Did he hurt you that night? Before he fell?”

She should have been prepared for this question. She should have known it was coming and planned the perfect response.

“No, but he tried to.” She saw no reason not to be honest about that. “He would have done.”

Cassie slid her hand into hers. “I thought so. You don’t have to hide the truth. I’ve already figured it out.”

Catherine felt a tight band form around her chest. “You have?”

“Yes. You always said that you’d taken off your shoes at the top of the stairs because your feet were hurting after a long evening dancing. But I’ve been thinking about it,” she said softly, “and I’m guessing that you lost your shoes when you were running away from him.”

Catherine’s heart was beating so hard she thought it might burst from her chest.

She’d promised herself that she was going to be honest about everything, but she hadn’t anticipated this particular question.

“Yes.” She croaked out the word. “That’s what happened. But I’d rather not talk about it, if that’s all right.”

“We won’t ever mention it again. Ever. But I wanted to know, that’s all. No more secrets.” Cassie gave her a hug and Catherine felt the warmth and love flow through her.

“You’re not upset?”

“That he fell over your shoe? No. Well, the whole thing is upsetting of course, and I wish the whole story was totally different, but I’m relieved that it ended for you. Not a happy ending, I guess, but the best ending in a bad situation.”

“Yes.”

“I love you, Mom.” Cassie squeezed her hand and then gasped. “Is that—wait, it can’t be.” She shaded her eyes, gazed ahead and Catherine saw a man approaching.

He had his phone in one hand and an overnight bag in the other. The way he was looking around him suggested he had no idea where he was going.

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