Page 80 of The Island Villa

“Yes.” Cassie looked a little dazed, as if she still didn’t quite believe it herself. “Yes, it looks as if I’m going to be a full-time writer.”

“You can give up your job in the café,” Catherine said, “and maybe I can help set you up in an apartment of your own so that you don’t have to share with Oliver anymore.”

Cassie gave a little frown. “I hadn’t thought...” She stopped. “That’s generous of you, but there’s no rush to think about that. I like my job in the café. And I like where I live.”

Her daughter’s living arrangements had been a constant source of anxiety.

Catherine had met Oliver on one of her trips to Oxford, and liked him enormously. He was handsome, smart and kind. A man like that was unlikely to stay single for long.

What would happen when Oliver finally had a serious relationship? Surely, he wasn’t going to want Cassie in his spare room then?

“Tell us about the book,” Adeline said. “I want to hear all about it.”

Andrew had reappeared, a fresh bottle in his hand.

“I want to hear all about it too.” Catherine smiled her thanks to Andrew as he topped up their glasses. She felt a rush of love and gratitude. Cassie wasn’t his daughter, and yet he was treating her as if she was. He was a kind and generous man. “But first a toast. To having another author in the family.” She raised her glass and Andrew and Adeline raised theirs.

It was funny, Catherine thought, that this achievement of her daughter’s had brought them together in a way that the wedding hadn’t. It was unexpected.

Even Adeline was smiling and relaxed.

Cassie took a sip of champagne and then put her glass down. “I’ll need all the advice you can give me.”

“My best advice?” Grow ten skins, and make one of them solid steel. “Enjoy every moment! Now tell me about the book.”

“It’s a love story.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Catherine said. “You always loved romantic stories.”

Adeline relaxed in her chair. “Following in the family tradition. Kissing not killing.”

Catherine thought of her current manuscript, full of gruesome detail, and said nothing. The only kiss was when the heroine kissed goodbye the man who had been tormenting her and that had been approximately two seconds before she’d used the blade in her hand to open an artery. She’d spent two days researching blood spatter, which had proved to be a complex and surprisingly fascinating topic. Who knew that you could learn so much from the pattern that blood made when it hit a wall?

But this wasn’t the time to reveal her own change in direction.

“I’m not exactly following in the family tradition,” Cassie said. “This isn’t a romance, as such. Romance always has a happy ending, doesn’t it? Mine doesn’t. But it’s definitely a love story.”

Catherine was intrigued. “Your romantic leads don’t get together?”

“Oh, yes, they’re very much together. But then he dies. He was her big love, but she picks herself up and survives. It is romantic, although it’s not a romance. And it has a hopeful ending.”

“Oh?” She felt a warning prickle behind her neck. An instinctive reaction to a threat yet to be identified. “The market for love stories is hot right now. Do you have the manuscript with you? I’d love to read it. And now it’s already been accepted and you’re on your way, hopefully you won’t be too shy to share it with your own mother.”

“I can email it to you right now.” Cassie dug out her phone and opened her emails.

“Email it to me too,” Adeline said. “I’d love to read it.”

Cassie glanced at her. “I’m not sure if you’ll like it. What do you normally read?”

“I read a variety of things. Please...” Adeline leaned forward, “I’d love to read it if you’ll let me.”

“Okay. This is nerve-wracking.” Cassie’s fingers flew over the keys and then she pressed Send. “My book, currently entitled Without End, should now be sitting in your inbox.”

“I’ll print out a copy and read it the old-fashioned way,” Catherine said. “I spend too long staring at screens. Where is it set?”

“Right here on Corfu.” Cassie put her phone down and reached across to her mother. “I’m dedicating it to you. I hope you’re going to love it.”

“I’m sure I will.” And if she didn’t, she would never say so. “And I’m touched that you’re dedicating it to me.”

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