'My family have always accepted you,' Anna snapped.

'I know but that doesn't mean Britain has always felt like home.'

'I didn't realise you felt that way,' Anna said.

'Not all the time.' Matteo shrugged.

'How do we fix this?' she asked. 'Because when I look at it, wherever we live, one of us is going to be unhappy.'

'I guess you're right,' he said.

'So what, we live apart?' Anna said. As soon as the words were out she wished she could draw them back in.

He shook his head. 'Don't.' He paused. 'We can't do that to Bella,' he said at last, his voice barely a whisper.

Anna pictured her young daughter sleeping in the other room, her face nuzzled into the soft bunny rabbit she took to bed each night, her cheeks a soft pink with sleep. Her home wasn't a country at all. It was her two parents, the warmth of their joint embrace.

Did that home still exist?

Chapter 33.

Imogen arrived back at the house, and brought her shopping bags up to the door. She had stopped by a farmers' market on the way home, and picked up some fresh ingredients for dinner that evening: lemon sole with vegetables and sweet-potato fries; Finn would like that. She was looking forward to seeing the look on his face, and to kissing him. Everything felt lighter now that she'd cut ties with Luca completely, and she was even starting to feel a spark of inspiration return.

She opened the door and called out a welcome to Finn. The house was quiet. She looked around, then saw him, over at the breakfast bar. Their eyes met, and he shook his head slightly. There was deep sadness in his expression. Imogen's heart felt heavy. Something was wrong.

'Is everything OK?' Imogen asked. She walked over, and, as she neared the breakfast bar, she saw an expanse of images laid out in front of him. Photos she recognised ones she had taken herself.

'I found these,' Finn said. 'In your darkroom.'

Imogen's chest felt tight. As she looked at Finn, his brow creased, his sandy hair tousled, regret engulfed her. No words came.

'There was a noise in there, something fell over. That's why I went in. Then, when I did, these were hanging there.'

Imogen's throat was dry.

'These were taken in Italy, right?' he said, pointing to the bright pink flowers and crumbling brickwork.

'Yes, Capri,' Imogen said.

'And this guy?' Finn prompted her, raising his eyebrows. Between them were images of Luca, his dark eyes staring up from the freshly developed prints.

Imogen could have kicked herself for being so careless.

'Who is he?'

'Luca,' Imogen said.

'Luca? Your ex, Luca?' he asked, disbelieving.

'Yes. I met him in Capri. It wasn't planned.'

Finn looked again at one of the photos Imogen had taken with the timer, their faces close, wide smiles beaming out from their tanned faces. She winced thinking how it must look to Finn.

'Nothing happened,' she said, quickly.

'Right, nothing happened,' Finn said, flatly. 'So why did you take these photos of nothing happening?'

'I don't know I don't even remember taking them, really.'

'And that's supposed to make it better?'

'No . . . I meant to explain when I first got back; I don't know why I didn't. Luca and I went out for drinks. Then dinner. Look, I know it doesn't look good, but nothing happened, honestly. We just talked.'

'Explain what, Imogen? That while I was here, waiting for you to call, you were with your ex having a great time in Capri?'

'It was nothing, honestly,' Imogen said, her words spilling out. 'Finn, I would never jeopardise what we have.' She had to put this right. 'I guess I was flattered by the attention. And it felt easy, spending time with him, not having to think about the future. It seems like the two of us have been talking about that so much recently-'

'So that's what this was about?' Finn asked, his eyes widening.

'No . . .' Imogen said. 'But yes.' She stalled. 'Well, maybe.'

'Which is it?' Finn said. 'Because I don't get it any more. Do I even make you happy?'

'Of course you do,' she said, desperation creeping into her voice.

'I remember now, you not answering your phone that night . . .' He shook his head. 'Was that you choosing him over me?'

'It wasn't about him or you, it never would be. I finished with Luca for a reason, and I fell in love with you for a hundred things that you are, and that we are together. I just . . .' She knew she had to be honest in a way she hadn't been up till now. It was the only way for them to move forward as a couple. 'I thought you might be about to ask me to marry you.'

Finn flinched, surprised. 'And what if I was?'

'It's not that I don't want to be with you, but marriage . . .'

'Right,' he said. 'Well, ouch. That kind of hurts.'

'Sorry,' Imogen blundered. 'I was confused about it all . . .'

'Wow,' Finn said, rubbing his brow wearily and looking down. 'This conversation wasn't great to start off with, but it does feel like it's. .h.i.tting a new low.'

'I'm sorry,' Imogen said. She was deflated, unsure now of how she could even start to make things right, to pull them back from this place they'd come to.

'You feel weirded out about the idea of getting married, so this is how you deal with it? Rather than talking to me, you find this guy and spend your time with him instead?'

'It wasn't like that.'

'I think I just need to be on my own for a bit,' Finn said.

'OK,' she said. She felt rooted to the spot but knew that she had to leave. As much as it had become their home, it was still his house, and she was the one at fault here. 'I guess I'll get my things, then.'

He nodded, and gave a reluctant shrug.

Imogen went into their bedroom, and got out her rucksack from underneath the bed. She looked around the room, the white bedsheets crumpled from where they'd slept there together, the framed photo of the two of them with their surfboards, on a sandy Devon beach, on top of the dresser.

Her cheeks grew hot and tears spilled down onto them. She stuffed a few of her belongings into her bag and tried not to think about when, and in what circ.u.mstances, she might next come back.

Chapter 34.

'Banana pancakes?' Anna asked Bella, holding up a banana from the fruit bowl. She needed something to brighten that morning, and pancakes usually helped.

'Yay!' Bella said, clapping her hands together.

'OK, great,' Anna said, getting the ingredients from the cupboard.

Matteo appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, fresh from the shower, towel-drying his hair.

'Pancakes?' Anna asked, softly.

'Yes, please,' he said.

They hadn't spoken since the previous night, and the tension between them was palpable. During their conversation Anna had felt pushed to breaking point, considering things that already, in the light of day, were too upsetting to revisit. It wasn't that she wanted to gloss over it all, pretend that the conversation hadn't happened and that Elisa's demands hadn't hurt her but it was her and Matteo's way, she thought, pouring the mixture into the pan, listening to Matteo talking and playing with his daughter. Good food was their foundation, and it helped them get through the days, even difficult ones, like this one.

Matteo took the plate gratefully, and cut some up for his daughter. 'Have you heard from Imogen lately?'

'No.' Anna shook her head. 'It's weird, actually. I got a text saying she'd got back safely, but nothing more.' It had been on her mind. 'I'll call her later.'

'We've got those food bloggers coming in later today,' Matteo said. 'We should put something special together for them. You do remember? The meeting you set up?'

'Yes,' Anna said. 'Yes, of course. I put some things to one side in the freezer, actually, so we're all set for that.'

'And Bella?' Matteo said.

As he said their daughter's name, Anna wondered if Bella was the only thread keeping them together.

'Carolina could probably mind her while the bloggers are there.'

'Sure. Or I can ask Mamma.'

'I don't really want to ask her right now,' Anna said.

'So, what? You have a difference of opinion and now you want to cut her out of our lives?'

'Of course not,' Anna said. 'But after yesterday . . . I'd prefer to ask Carolina, that's all.'

'She'll come round in the end,' Matteo said.

'I hope so. Because this is our relationship, Matteo. I don't want three people in it.'

Anna took a few moments before the food bloggers arrived to check in with her sister on the phone.

'So, things took a bit of an unexpected turn,' Imogen said. 'Or maybe I should have seen from the start that this was the only way things could go.'

'What happened?'

'Do you really want to know?' Imogen said. Anna could hear the tears in her voice. 'I'm in the van. It's loaded up with my stuff. I've moved out, Anna.'

'You've what?' Anna said, caught off guard. She sat down on one of the seats outside the shop, far from the customers. 'You and Finn . . .'

'He found some photos of me and Luca in Capri. I don't know why I was stupid enough to think he wouldn't find out, that I could just keep quiet about it and it would be like nothing had ever happened. As it is, with just the photos to go on, how can I blame him for thinking I was hiding something more serious?'

'Oh, Imogen. I'm so sorry to hear that,' Anna said. 'Have you got somewhere to go? Lauren's? Mum and Dad's?'

'Lauren has her brother staying, and, G.o.d, no, I'm not going back to Mum and Dad's. Things are bad, but not that bad.' She laughed wryly. 'I called Uncle Martin and he's got a room free, so I'm driving over to the guesthouse now.'

'It'll work out soon,' Anna said, rea.s.suringly. 'Just give him time.'

'I didn't mean to hurt him, Anna.' Imogen's voice softened. 'I hate that I did. I just wish I could go back and do it all differently.'

At two, Anna and Matteo closed the ice cream shop in Sorrento for an hour, for the bloggers' event a dozen food writers had arrived, and were chatting to them both over smoothies about how they'd got started.

'We have our own shop in Brighton,' Anna explained, 'but then we were drawn back here to Italy, where Matteo grew up, and it seemed the perfect opportunity to introduce a wider audience to our recipes.'

It helped, Anna thought having to make a good impression with strangers and present a united front with Matteo. As they talked about happier times, she could almost forget about the devastating conversation they'd had the previous night. Almost.

'The English recipes have actually travelled really well,' Matteo said. 'The gin-and-tonic-and-lemon lolly has been a huge hit here,' Matteo said. 'And our cla.s.sic Wimbledon ice cream, strawberries and cream.'

The food bloggers took notes, and tasted the samples Anna had put out for them. They looked around the shop, intrigued.

'It's a real transformation from how it was before,' said one blogger, a woman called Lucy. 'I moved out here from the UK ten years ago and I've been longing to find somewhere that felt like home. As soon as you guys took this place over I knew I'd found it.'

'Thank you,' Anna said. 'That's nice to hear.'

'A few people have commented to me that they find it refreshing to see a mix of different styles on your menu. Obviously, Italy's known for its ice cream for good reason, but there are plenty of places here doing the traditional stuff. I think you're standing out because you're not afraid to try something new.'