The Angel Tree (63 page)

‘Of course. I’d be delighted to come and help you, darling. When would you like me?’

‘As soon as possible. Simon’s up to his eyes in the barn producing an album and, even though Mary’s doing her best, she has so much to do in the house and I don’t want to
put upon her.’

‘Why don’t I come up at the weekend? That’ll give me a chance to sort out a few bits and pieces here.’

‘That would be wonderful. Thank you so much, Granny. Let me know what time your train arrives in Abergavenny and I’ll send someone to come and get you.’

Greta put down the telephone and gave a small whoop of joy.

The following day, Greta went to the hairdresser in preparation for having lunch with David. She’d spend the rest of the afternoon and evening packing. At least now, she
felt she could cope with seeing David and hearing about Tor. For a change, she had plans too.

They met at their usual table in the Grill Room and Greta immediately saw that David had lost weight.

‘Have you been on a diet?’ she asked.

‘No, I think it’s genetic. As old age approaches, some people put it on and some lose it. You’re looking extremely well, Greta, I must say. Champagne?’

‘Yes, why not? Isn’t it wonderful news about Ava?’

‘Absolutely. Have you seen the twins yet?’

‘No, but I’m going up to Marchmont tomorrow to help out. Ava sounds exhausted.’

‘I’m amazed you can find the time in your busy new life.’ David smiled.

‘Well, she is my granddaughter, and she needs me. How have you been?’

‘Oh, all right. I’ve been working on my book and contemplating my retirement.’

‘How’s Tor?’ she asked lightly.

‘Fine, as far as I know. We haven’t seen each other for a while.’

‘Is she busy in Oxford?’

‘I presume so. Actually, Greta, we’re no longer together.’

‘Really? Why?’

‘It was Tor’s decision. She said the relationship wasn’t going anywhere and, to be honest, she was probably right.’

‘I’m astonished,’ Greta said, as the champagne arrived. ‘I was expecting to hear all about your wedding plans.’

‘Well, better that it happened now, before we tied the knot. Anyway’ – he clinked his glass on hers – ‘here’s to the new arrivals . . . And to you, Greta.
I’m really proud of you.’

‘Are you? That’s sweet of you, David.’

‘Yes. You’ve been through so much, especially since Christmas, and by the looks of things you’ve handled it terrifically.’

‘I wouldn’t say that. There have been times when I’ve seriously wondered what it’s all about, but one has to do one’s best and just get on with it, doesn’t
one?’

‘Yes, that’s true. And I’ll admit that I’ve been very low since Cheska’s death, especially coming so soon after my mother’s.’

‘It’s a bit like running a marathon, isn’t it? It’s only when you reach the finish line that you have time to collapse. Perhaps that’s what’s happening to
you, David.’

‘Maybe.’ He shrugged, unconvinced. ‘And I doubt writing my autobiography has helped. It means I spend the whole of my time having to think about the past.’

‘Am I in it?’ Greta teased.

‘As I promised you, I’ve left you, Cheska and Ava out of it. Which mean it’s pretty thin. You’ve all been such a big part of my life. Anyway, shall we order?’

Greta ate her lunch hungrily whilst David only picked at his.

‘Are you sure you’re all right, David?’ Greta frowned. ‘You really don’t seem yourself. It’s probably because of Tor. You must miss her terribly.’

‘No, it’s not that.’ David concentrated on folding his napkin into a small triangle.

‘Then what is it?’

‘It’s what she said when she told me she thought it best to end our relationship.’

‘And what was that?’

‘I—’

‘Spit it out, David. Nothing you could say will shock me. I’ve known you for far too long.’

‘The thing is’ – he paused for a second – ‘she said that it was pointless us continuing because I’d always been in love with someone else.’

‘Really? And who is that?’

David rolled his eyes. ‘You, of course.’

‘
Me?
Why on earth would she think that?’

‘Because it’s true. And she was right.’

‘Well, I was wrong when I said that nothing you could say to me would shock me,’ Greta said quietly after a long pause.

‘Well, you did ask. Anyway, there we are. I told her that you’ve never felt the same about me—’

‘David! Of course I feel the same about you! I’ve felt it for years and years. In fact, on that dreadful day when Cheska almost certainly pushed me off the pavement after I’d
told her that Bobby Cross was married, I was going to tell you! And then, of course, I couldn’t remember anything at all, so I simply fell in love with you all over again.’

‘Are you serious?’ David looked at her with such a terrified expression that Greta wanted to chuckle.

‘No, I’m joking! Of course I’m serious, you silly old thing. I’ve stayed away from you for the past two months because I didn’t want to be a burden to you any
longer.’

‘I thought it was because, now you’d remembered everything, you didn’t need me any more.’

‘As we both know all too well, I’ve always needed you. I love you, David.’

He saw the happiness on her face and, as what she’d said began to sink in, he grinned back.

‘Well then,’ he said.

‘Well then.’

‘Here we are.’

‘Yes, here we are.’

‘Better late than never, I suppose. It’s only taken forty years for this moment to happen. Worth waiting for, though.’

‘Yes. And, David, it’s me who’s been so stupid. I didn’t see what was right under my nose.’

‘People often don’t.’

‘Oh Taffy,’ she said, suddenly reverting to his pet name, ‘if only I had, how different things would have been.’

‘Well, we do have the rest of our lives ahead of us, don’t we?’

‘Yes.’ For the first time in years, Greta felt she did.

‘And how about we begin it by me driving you up to Marchmont tomorrow? We can greet the new arrivals together.’

David put out his hand to her across the table and she took it.

‘Yes.’ She smiled. ‘That would be a perfect beginning.’

Claudia Negele at Goldmann Verlag, Jez Trevathan and Catherine Richards at Pan Macmillan, Knut Gørvell, Jorid Mathiassen and Pip Hallén at Cappelen Damm,
Donatella Minuto and Annalisa Lottini at Giunti Editore, and Nana Vaz de Castro and Fernando Mercante at Editora Arqueiro.

‘Team Lulu’ – my band of ‘sisters’ – Olivia Riley, Susan Moss, Ella Micheler, Jacquelyn Heslop, my lovely ‘blood’ sister Georgia Edmonds, to whom
this book is dedicated, and my mother, Janet.

Special thanks to Samantha and Robert Gurney for allowing me to use their fabulous house and their two beautiful daughters, Amelia and Tabitha, in my film.

Stephen, my husband and agent, and my ‘fantastic four’: Harry, Isabella, Leonora and Kit.

And to my wonderful readers around the world – without your support, this book would never have had a second chance.

It was Christmas 2013 when I was asked if I would like to republish
Not Quite an Angel
, which was first published in 1995 under my old pen name, Lucinda Edmonds.

I had enjoyed revisiting
The Italian Girl
(previously
Aria
) the year before, and amidst our family’s yule-tide celebrations, a picture began to form in my mind of a snowy
Welsh landscape and a beautiful house with an enormous Christmas tree standing in the front hall . . .

I dusted off my one dog-eared copy of the book, read it for the first time in eighteen years, and was pleasantly surprised by what a compelling tale it was. However, my writing style has evolved
over the years and I knew I could make it even better (I understand now why some novels are several years in the writing – sometimes it’s only distance that truly gives an author
perspective on a manuscript). So I set to work, little knowing what I was letting myself in for, and became so engrossed that I ended up writing a virtually completely new novel –
The
Angel Tree
.

While many elements of the original remain, key characters have had their roles and dialogue rewritten, settings have been enhanced, and several chapters and plotlines are entirely new. I even
resurrected one character I’d always regretted killing off in the original novel. I feel privileged to have had the opportunity to breathe new life into this story. I hope that you enjoy
it.

Lucinda Riley, 2015

A MAJOR NEW SERIES FROM
L
UCINDA
R
ILEY

Maia’s Story

Maia D’Aplièse and her five sisters gather together at their childhood home, ‘Atlantis’ – a fabulous, secluded castle situated on the shores of
Lake Geneva – having been told that their beloved father, the elusive billionaire they call Pa Salt, has died. Maia and her sisters were all adopted by him as babies and, discovering he has
already been buried at sea, each of them is handed a tantalising clue to their true heritage – a clue that takes Maia across the world to a crumbling mansion in Rio de Janeiro in Brazil. Once
there, she begins to put together the pieces of where her story began . . .

Eighty years earlier, in the Belle Epoque of Rio, 1927, Izabela Bonifacio’s father has aspirations for his daughter to marry into aristocracy. Meanwhile, architect Heitor da Silva Costa is
working on a statue, to be called Christ the Redeemer, and will soon travel to Paris to find the right sculptor to complete his vision. Izabela – passionate and longing to see the world
– convinces her father to allow her to accompany him and his family to Europe before she is married. There, at Paul Landowski’s studio and in the heady, vibrant cafés of
Montparnasse, she meets ambitious young sculptor Laurent Brouilly, and knows at once that her life will never be the same again.

In this sweeping, epic tale of love and loss – the first in a unique series of seven books, based on the legends of the Seven Sisters star constellation – Lucinda Riley showcases her
storytelling talent like never before.

Turn the page to read the first spellbinding chapter now.

I will always remember exactly where I was and what I was doing when I heard that my father had died.

I was sitting in the pretty garden of my old schoolfriend’s townhouse in London, a copy of
The Penelopiad
open but unread in my lap, enjoying the June sun while Jenny collected
her little boy from nursery.

I felt calm and appreciated what a good idea it had been to get away. I was studying the burgeoning clematis, encouraged by its sunny midwife to give birth to a riot of colour, when my mobile
phone rang. I glanced at the screen and saw it was Marina.

‘Hello, Ma, how are you?’ I said, hoping she could hear the warmth in my voice too.

‘Maia, I . . .’

Marina paused, and in that instant I knew something was dreadfully wrong. ‘What is it?’

‘Maia, there’s no easy way to tell you this, but your father had a heart attack here at home yesterday afternoon, and in the early hours of this morning, he . . . passed
away.’

I remained silent, as a million different and ridiculous thoughts raced through my mind. The first one being that Marina, for some unknown reason, had decided to play some form of tasteless joke
on me.

‘You’re the first of the sisters I’ve told, Maia, as you’re the eldest. And I wanted to ask you whether you would prefer to tell the rest of your sisters yourself, or
leave it to me.’

‘I . . .’

Still no words would form coherently on my lips, as I began to realise that Marina, dear, beloved Marina, the woman who had been the closest thing to a mother I’d ever known, would never
tell me this if it
wasn’t
true. So it had to be. And at that moment, my entire world shifted on its axis.

‘Maia, please, tell me you’re all right. This really is the most dreadful call I’ve ever had to make, but what else could I do? God only knows how the other girls are going to
take it.’

It was then that I heard the suffering in
her
voice and understood she’d needed to tell me as much for her own sake as mine. So I switched into my normal comfort zone, which was
to comfort others.

‘Of course I’ll tell my sisters if you’d prefer, Ma, although I’m not positive where they all are. Isn’t Ally away training for a regatta?’

And as we continued to discuss where each of my younger sisters was, as though we needed to get them together for a birthday party rather than to mourn the death of our father, the entire
conversation took on a sense of the surreal.

‘When should we plan on having the funeral, do you think? What with Electra being in Los Angeles and Ally somewhere on the high seas, surely we can’t think about it until next week
at the earliest?’ I said.

‘Well . . .’ I heard the hesitation in Marina’s voice. ‘Perhaps the best thing is for you and I to discuss it when you arrive back home. There really is no rush now,
Maia, so if you’d prefer to continue the last couple of days of your holiday in London, that would be fine. There’s nothing more to be done for him here . . .’ Her voice trailed
off miserably.

‘Ma, of
course
I’ll be on the next flight to Geneva I can get! I’ll call the airline immediately, and then I’ll do my best to get in touch with
everyone.’

‘I’m so terribly sorry,
chérie
,’ Marina said sadly. ‘I know how you adored him.’

‘Yes,’ I said, the strange calm that I had felt while we discussed arrangements suddenly deserting me like the stillness before a violent thunderstorm. ‘I’ll call you
later, when I know what time I’ll be arriving.’

‘Please take care of yourself, Maia. You’ve had a terrible shock.’

I pressed the button to end the call, and before the storm clouds in my heart opened up and drowned me, I went upstairs to my bedroom to retrieve my flight documents and contact the airline. As
I waited in the calling queue, I glanced at the bed where I’d woken up this morning to Simply Another Day. And I thanked God that human beings don’t have the power to see into the
future.