'Look, I'm sorry I didn't explain earlier,' he said. 'But don't you think it could be good? Mamma can help out with Bella, maybe help with some of the Italian queries when I'm not around.'

'We don't need help,' Anna said, her resolve to keep her feelings to herself snapping. 'And I'm learning Italian, so soon I won't be completely useless.'

'I didn't mean that-'

'Sorry,' Anna said, trying to steady her emotions. 'I didn't mean to snap. But, Matteo, I thought we said we were doing this on our own. I thought that was the whole reason we decided to come here, to Sorrento.'

'We still will be doing it alone,' Matteo said. 'OK, so Mamma might have the occasional bit of advice, but we don't have to take it.'

'Right,' Anna said. Maybe she was overreacting. Maybe she should just accept what was happening, learn to live with the new situation. Matteo was right, of course, that there were some benefits. 'It's different from what I was expecting, that's all,' Anna said. 'I thought she'd be coming to visit rather than staying for weeks, probably months. Why didn't you mention that her plans had changed?'

'I don't know,' Matteo said. 'I meant to. I was waiting for the right moment and then, before I knew it, she was here.'

Anna looked at him sternly, but in a moment his soft brown eyes had made it almost impossible for her to continuing being annoyed with him.

'I couldn't say no. She just wants to spend time with Bella, and see what we're doing with the shop, that's all. She won't get in the way.'

Anna took a deep breath. Perhaps that really would be the case. But, somehow, she couldn't help but doubt it.

Chapter 19.

At home, Imogen was sitting on the sofa in the living room with her laptop, typing notes into her online calendar.

Sat.u.r.day 2 p.m. Brighton Pavilion The Rogersons' Wedding ceremony, followed by a reception in the gardens Sunday 10 a.m. Baby Joseph, studio shots The bookings for weddings, and baby portraits, were starting to build up in her work diary Lauren had a surplus of projects, so had started pa.s.sing Imogen the ones she couldn't fit in. It was a good opportunity to broaden her experience, yet Imogen was still struggling to feel enthusiastic about it.

Esposito . . . The name drifted back into her mind. Why had that name and address been written on the map? It was Vivien's handwriting, that was certain. Had she visited someone out there, out in Sorrento, where Anna was right now?

A Facebook notification distracted her, and she clicked to open it. Luca. Now, there was someone she hadn't thought about in a long while. Tanned, with dark hair his Italian heritage coming through even though his accent was pure American west coast. She hovered over 'Ignore' two and a half years had pa.s.sed since she had been with Luca, an extended holiday romance before she met Finn. It hadn't ended well Imogen's plans had changed after her grandmother's death, and, while she understood Luca's hurt, he'd chosen to act it out by getting together with a good friend of hers.

Something stopped her clearing the screen, though. Enough time had pa.s.sed, hadn't it? And she had enough friends on the site that she'd barely shared any real life experiences with at least he had, for a while, been important to her, and they'd had a connection once. Ignoring him seemed petty. It wasn't as if they'd be chatting away or anything. She clicked to accept.

Imogen took her bike and cycled down to the ice cream shop. She needed some fresh air and company. She wasn't used to time spent on her own at home, and she wasn't sure she really liked it. That morning, the cafe was heaving with customers. She looked on as Evie weaved expertly in and out of the tables, delivering orders with grace and ease.

'Imogen, hi!' Evie called out, waving over.

'Hi,' Imogen said. 'I was just calling by to see how things were going. Have you been getting on OK?'

'Yes, brilliantly,' Evie said. 'Run off my feet as you can see.'

'Do you need help?' Imogen asked. She had a gap before she needed to get to the studio.

'Thanks for the offer,' Evie said confidently. 'But no. I have to admit I'm rather enjoying running the show here. It's what you and Anna pay me for, after all. And you have your wonderful photos to be getting on with.'

Well-meant as they were, Evie's words stung. Right now Imogen felt as if she might never take a photo again. Something had gone from her. The spark that drove her up and out to doc.u.ment the world around her in a way no one ever had before. To create beauty. She wondered if it would ever come back.

'Well, it's great to see how well you're doing,' Imogen said. 'Don't let me distract you.'

She walked her bike over to the surf shop, and Andy came over to the doorway to meet her, the work still in full flow.

'You've just missed Finn, I'm afraid,' Andy said. 'He's driven to the big hardware shop to stock up. Five minutes ago it must have been.'

'Oh, that's OK,' Imogen said, trying to hide her disappointment. 'I'll catch up with him later.'

'But listen, I'm glad you're here,' Andy said, 'because we just found a small box of things that are yours. Well, your grandma's. I showed them to Evie seeing as they were in her shop and she said Vivien had left them for her, but she'd never looked at them. Said we could throw them that there was nothing valuable. Sounds bad, but she was very upset, so I suppose perhaps it was that she didn't want to bring up the memories again. Anyway, it didn't seem right to chuck them out.'

'Thanks. Yes,' Imogen said, hurt and confused that Evie wouldn't have mentioned it. 'I'll take them.'

Andy went inside and returned with an A4-sized cardboard box, sealed with brown tape.

'Tell Finn I came by,' she said.

Imogen walked with her bike a little further down the beach, then got a drink and sat down on a bench. She looked at the box, then hesitated a moment. It didn't feel like it was hers to open.

In the end, curiosity overtook her, and she peeled back the brown tape. Inside, there was a letter, on pale-blue paper. She didn't recognise the handwriting.

Dear Vivien, Thank you for writing to me. Of course I remember that summer. Ours was truly a big love, the strongest love I've ever known.

Imogen nearly choked. This wasn't a letter from her grandfather, that much was clear. And the date: 2010. It wasn't long before her grandmother had died. Every instinct in her told her to put the letter away, pretend she'd never found it. Undo what she'd done. But she'd gone too far already she had to read on. Nausea gnawing at her stomach, she forced herself to read the rest of it.

I've never been happier than I was in those days we were together. That time made me the very best man I could be.

But what does pa.s.sion and love mean, if you lose your family in the process? Back then I couldn't take that risk. I know what you are saying, that sometimes it's just the time that isn't right maybe that's true. Back then I couldn't risk losing my family, but now that the children have grown up, well, things are different. It's hard for me to revisit those feelings I shut the door long ago. I don't know why I'm saying all this to you now.

So, I'll be brave. I'm sending a photo of me, as I am now old, a little tired, mainly happy. You asked me whether I would be willing to meet up again. I've given it a lot of thought.

Yes, yes I would.

She lifted the letter with a sense of urgency, and found a photo underneath. A man in his late fifties or early sixties, grey hair and a warm smile wearing a smart shirt, against the backdrop of what looked like an olive grove.

There was no name, no sign-off. She flipped over the envelope and looked at the postmark that crisscrossed the Italian stamp: Sorrento.

Imogen tried to take in the words she'd just read, but her head was spinning. She couldn't make sense of it. Her grandmother and grandfather had been deeply in love. Even after Stanley died, Vivien had kept his memory alive. Had it really been a lie all of it?

Imogen put the letter away, wishing she'd never opened it. Vivien had always told Imogen and Anna to be true to themselves. Now her words rang hollow.

Chapter 20.

In Sorrento, the ice cream shop had been up and running for two weeks, and Anna was just starting to relax. She and Matteo had been pleasantly busy every day since the shop opened, juggling food preparation with serving tables, and they had a steady stream of friendly customers. She felt buoyed up, and, with so much to organise for the business, she'd found it easier than she'd expected to avoid crossing paths with Elisa. But that Monday morning, with Matteo in town getting supplies, and Bella and Carolina playing out in the square, she found herself alone in the shop with her mother-in-law.

Anna concentrated on the quince sorbet she was preparing.

'That's interesting, the way you're doing that,' Elisa said.

'We prepared the fruit last night, so it doesn't take as long,' Anna said, brightly.

'Personally, I prefer to do all the preparation in one go,' Elisa said. 'I'm sure everything stays fresher that way.'

Anna kept quiet and carried on getting the ice ready.

'I could show you,' Elisa said.

'Thanks for the offer,' Anna said, diplomatically. 'But I've kind of got used to doing it like this, and, to be honest, I'm happy with it.'

'It's not very . . . Well, it's not very Italian, is it? When we talk about sorbets, we think of the granita, with chunks of ice in it. Your sorbets the lemon, the tangerine they're very smooth.' Elisa shook her head. 'I'm not saying they don't taste good, and admittedly the tourists seem to like them, but they are not traditional recipes, are they?'

'We're not a traditional shop,' Anna said, politely but firmly. 'Of course we respect the Italian way of making ice cream and we have plenty of gelato on our menu, but we want to bring in a mix of new ideas too.'

'Your customers will soon tire of the novelty,' Elisa said, shaking her head. 'Take it from me. I have over . . .'

Anna didn't need to hear the rest, she already knew it by heart: Elisa had over thirty years of experience in the ice cream business. She and her husband Giacomo knew Italian customers better than anyone else in the country.

'I know your grandmother had a shop, so perhaps you have a little of the history too, but it's different, what we do over here,' she said.

'I appreciate that,' Anna said. Her patience was starting to fray. 'Elisa, we have our own way of . . .'

Matteo came back into the shop and Anna let what she was saying trail off.

'Hi,' she said, feeling a wave of relief.

'Darling!' Elisa exclaimed. 'Where have you been? I seem to be upsetting your wife again. She is always so very sensitive.'

'I was getting some supplies for the shop, Mamma. I told you that.' He put the bags up on the counter and started to unpack. 'And I'm sure Anna's fine. Right?'

He put his arm around Anna and looked at her.

She nodded, but looked pointedly at him to show her discontent.

'Actually, Matteo, I wonder if you and your Mum might need to pop back to the shops,' she said.

'What do you mean? I got everything . . .' he said, surveying the food he'd just bought.

'Oh there are definitely a few more things.' She widened her eyes and glanced at Elisa. 'Just a quick trip to the local shops. That's all.'

Matteo got the hint at last. 'Right. Yes. Mamma. Let's go and get some fresh air.'

Anna relished the relative calm of the shop, once Elisa and Matteo had left. Her cheeks still burned with the frustration of not being able to tell her mother-in-law exactly what she felt, but she took a couple of deep breaths to settle her nerves. Elisa was only trying to help, she told herself. She could handle it, keep her feelings in, so as not to upset her mother-in-law or Matteo. Provided she saw Elisa only in small doses, that seemed possible.

She set about serving the customers, German and English families and a trickle of local children. Around midday, Luigi came into the ice cream shop, smiling warmly.

'Good morning, Signora,' he said to Anna. 'How is everything today?'

'Good, thanks, Luigi. And you?'

'Excellent, actually,' he said. 'Today is a good day. Which is why I have come in for one of your ice creams, to celebrate. Pistachio and chocolate, please.'

'With pleasure,' she said, picking up the silver ice cream scoop. 'What is it that you're celebrating?'

'My daughter called me she has just got a job in Naples,' he said. 'She is going to be a children's doctor there.'

'That's wonderful news,' Anna said. 'This one's on the house, in that case. You and your wife must be very proud.'

'Oh, no,' Luigi said, shaking his head. 'It's just me.'

'I'm sorry,' Anna's cheeks coloured. 'I a.s.sumed . . . Silly of me.'

'Don't worry. Their mother died a long time ago. I've raised my son and daughter for most of their lives.'

'You've never married again?'

He shook his head, and a weariness seemed to come over him. 'Life can be complicated, Anna.'

She pa.s.sed him the ice cream cone. 'Of course.'

'And it moves so fast, doesn't it? But you and Matteo, with your beautiful daughter, you seem to have a good life. The bella Bella. Children are a gift, Anna. Once they are here they become the most important thing in your life.'

Anna smiled. 'Yes. Bella definitely insists that she's that.'

He paused. 'But I did not come in here to tell you my life story,' he said, the tone of his voice lighter. 'Where are your family today?'

'Oh, Matteo's with his mother,' she said. 'They've gone to the shops to get us some supplies.'

'Good, good. I only just heard that your Matteo is a Bonomi. You are part of one of the most famous ice cream-making families in the country.'

'Yes, we're very lucky.'

'It must be helpful to have his parents' advice.'

'In a way,' Anna said, raising her eyebrows just a fraction. Luigi spotted her meaning at once.

'I see. A mixed blessing,' he laughed. 'That's families for you.'

Matteo came back to the shop later that afternoon. Anna kissed him, but she sensed he was holding back. When she pulled away he didn't meet her eyes, and seemed distracted.