Island Fling To Forever

No, she still wouldn’t have talked. She wasn’t that sort of person, he was sure.

But that didn’t mean it wasn’t worth making sure she was on the right side of his hide-and-don’t-seek game with the press, before she let something slip to the wrong person.

The last thing Jude wanted was to have his hiding place uncovered now, just when his last remaining secret had walked back into his life.

CHAPTER THREE (#ua099c3e6-df42-5e39-abd2-9503d02b670a)

‘MAMA. MAMA!’ Rosa interrupted her mother’s non-stop flow of conversation with an impatient shout. It might be rude, but she knew from experience that if she didn’t get in there quick before Sancia got lost in one of her conversational tangents, she could be stuck discussing anything but the matter in hand for hours before she got back to the point.

Sancia stopped talking, smiled, then hugged her again.

Rosa hugged her back. Maybe there were some parts of this homecoming that weren’t completely awful. Hugs from her mama were definitely one of them. Whatever their family issues, Rosa knew she was lucky to still have her mother in her life. Ten years after she left, Rosa had long forgiven her for walking out on them—understood why she’d needed to, even. Rosa knew that, in her place, she’d have done the same.

If she couldn’t fix a situation, couldn’t get what she needed from it, she broke free. Just as her mother had done. Just ask Jude.

‘I’m sorry, querida,’ Sancia said, with a warm smile. ‘I’m just so excited to have both my girls home with me again.’

Which led Rosa neatly into the first of her very many questions. ‘Where is Anna, anyway? Jude said something about her going to Barcelona with someone called Leo?’ Which seemed utterly unlike her sister, to be honest.

‘Ah, you’ve already met Jude! Isn’t he a delight?’ Sancia beamed. ‘We were so lucky he decided to come and stay here, you know. And he brought your father over with him, for which we are all grateful.’

‘He...brought Dad?’ Rosa frowned. That made no sense at all. But then, Sancia’s ramblings often didn’t.

‘Well, they arrived together. They travelled over from the mainland in the same boat.’ Which was not at all the same thing, Rosa realised.

Sancia didn’t always operate on exactly the same plane as everyone else. It wasn’t worth explaining the difference—or asking if Sancia had even realised who Jude was. The Swifts wouldn’t mean anything to her mother. And she definitely didn’t want to mention their past acquaintance.

Which left her with her more immediate concerns.

‘So, Mama. Anna. Where is she?’

‘Why, Barcelona, like Jude said. With Leo.’

‘And Leo is...?’ Rosa pressed.

‘Anna’s...well, not boyfriend, exactly. At least I don’t think so. Lover, I suppose.’ Sancia sounded far too happy with that answer. Rosa tried to imagine Anna’s face if she heard their mother describing any man as her ‘lover’ and bit back a laugh. ‘And he’s close to the bride, of course,’ Sancia went on, bringing Rosa quickly back to the matter at hand.

‘Why don’t you tell me more about this wedding, Mama?’ she suggested as she manoeuvred her mother further into the villa, towards the small office that sat behind the reception area.

‘Of course! You’ll need to know all about it,’ Sancia agreed, a little too readily for Rosa’s liking. ‘Anna has left you a list of all the things she needs you to take care of.’

‘Has she?’ Of course she had. St Anna always did need to be in perfect control of everything. She wouldn’t let a little thing like, oh, not actually being there get in the way of that.

Sancia nodded enthusiastically. ‘Oh, yes. She’s thought of everything. Just look!’ She rustled around on the desk until she pulled out a clipboard, with a neatly typed list that, Rosa was almost certain, would prove to contain no typos or grammatical errors.

Although it did seem to contain an awful lot of work to be done.

Rosa took the clipboard from her mother and flipped through the three pages of jobs. ‘Seriously? What’s Anna been doing since she got here?’

‘Oh, everything!’ Sancia clapped her hands together, pride shining from her eyes. ‘She and Leo, they’ve repainted all the bungalows, tamed the jungle growing out there on the island, fixed all the little things I’ve been meaning to get around to around here, sorted out the swimming pools for the season...everything!’

‘And did she walk on water as well?’ Rosa muttered as she looked through her list.

‘Sorry?’ Sancia asked, thankfully unable to make out the words.

‘Did they do all that alone?’ Rosa asked, instead of repeating her original question.

‘Well, Anna’s got a whole lot of extra staff coming in this week to help finish it off. But she’s organised it all—and been out there with her paintbrush doing more than her fair share!’

Guilt gnawed at Rosa. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner, Mama.’

‘It’s fine.’ Sancia patted her shoulder. ‘You were busy. I understood. And so did your sister.’

That part, Rosa found harder to believe. Even harder than picturing pristine St Anna with a paintbrush in hand.

‘Well, she’s left me plenty to do to make up for it, anyway.’ Rosa stared down at the list again. Then she turned it over so she didn’t have to look at it any more. ‘So, tell me all about this wedding.’

And why on earth it’s sending this whole island into general insanity.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Rosa had her answers. She just didn’t like them very much.

‘So, when you called and said that there was a wedding booking on the island, what you failed to mention was that it was a five-star, luxury, last-minute wedding for Internet sensation and supermodel Valentina, whose every move is documented online to millions of fans.’ A wedding like this could make or break La Isla Marina for the foreseeable future. If they could live up to Valentina’s expectations, the resort would be fully booked for years. But if they screwed it up...

That didn’t bear thinking about.

Sancia smiled. ‘Anna says it’s a great opportunity. Apparently Valentina is very popular.’

Understatement. Even in the middle of a South American rainforest, Rosa hadn’t been able to avoid Valentina’s doings. ‘She’s about as famous as Jude is.’

Sancia’s expression turned curious. ‘Jude is famous?’

Oh, honestly. How was she supposed to work like this?

‘Just take my word for it, Mama.’ She thought about Jude, unrecognised and playing Scrabble with her father. He was hiding. Even if he hadn’t fully admitted it yet. ‘And maybe don’t mention the fact that he’s here to anyone, okay?’

‘Of course. But Rosa...can you do all these things Anna has asked?’ Sancia chewed on her lip, nervously. Because only St Anna could be useful and take care of the family business, right? Only Anna was reliable and dependable—never mind that Sancia had no time at all for those traits usually. Now that she was in trouble, of course it was Anna that she needed. Not Rosa.

‘I think I can manage a little bit of organisation, for once,’ she said, drily. ‘Don’t worry about it, Mama. I’ve got you covered.’

She resisted the impulse to look back down at the list and wince. How hard could it be, really? Arranging hotel rooms and putting up decorations was hardly the same as trekking miles through war zones or eluding border patrols, now, was it?

‘Oh, good.’ Sancia’s face relaxed into its usual smiling countenance. ‘Then how about I go and fetch you some wine? And some dinner—you must be starving after your journey!’

Rosa knew it wouldn’t have mattered what time of day she’d arrived, Sancia would still assume she needed feeding. And a glass of wine. Today though, she wasn’t wrong. However, there were a few other things she needed to get straight first.

‘In a moment, Mama. You never explained what Dad is doing here.’ Rosa remembered what life had been like with both her parents in the same house as a child, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to experience it again. For years, Sancia had lived life her way—ignoring her husband’s requests for more order in their lives. She’d picked up new creative hobbies that had covered the house in paint or pottery, and brought new friends home to open their lounge up for art classes or book groups. And through it all, Ernest’s only comments would be to stay out of his study and clear up after themselves. Rosa wondered, sometimes, if some of the crazier ideas Sancia had come up with—like the midnight picnic in the garden, with fairy lights and music, or the time she’d repainted the whole house yellow, or the last-minute road trip across the country with no preparation or, as it turned out after the first fifty miles, petrol—had just been attempts to get her husband to pay attention to her, for once.