Jules Wake - From Italy With Love

JULES WAKE

A division of HarperCollins Publishers

www.harpercollins.co.uk

Harper Impulse an imprint of

HarperCollins Publishers

1 London Bridge Street

London, SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by Harper Impulse 2015

Copyright © Jules Wake 2015

Cover images © Shutterstock.com

Cover layout design © HarperColl‌insPublishers Ltd 2015

Cover design by HarperColl‌insPublishers Ltd

Jules Wake asserts the moral right

to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is

available from the British Library

This novel is entirely a work of fiction.

The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are

the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to

actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is

entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International

and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.

By payment of the required fees, you have been granted

the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access

and read the text of this e-book on screen.

No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted,

downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or

stored in or introduced into any information storage and

retrieval system, in any form or by any means,

whether electronic or mechanical, now known or

hereinafter invented, without the express

written permission of HarperCollins.

Digital eFirst: Automatically produced by Atomik ePublisher from Easypress.

Ebook Edition © April 2015 ISBN: 9780008126339

Version 2019-03-27

For Nicola & Ian Walker,

friends, steadfast & true.

Contents

Cover

Title Page From Italy With Love JULES WAKE A division of HarperCollins Publishers www.harpercollins.co.uk

Copyright Harper Impulse an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street London, SE1 9GF www.harpercollins.co.uk First published in Great Britain by Harper Impulse 2015 Copyright © Jules Wake 2015 Cover images © Shutterstock.com Cover layout design © HarperColl‌insPublishers Ltd 2015 Cover design by HarperColl‌insPublishers Ltd Jules Wake asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins. Digital eFirst: Automatically produced by Atomik ePublisher from Easypress. Ebook Edition © April 2015 ISBN: 9780008126339 Version 2019-03-27

Dedication For Nicola & Ian Walker, friends, steadfast & true.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Acknowledgements

Jules Wake

About HarperImpulse

About the Publisher

The minute Lauren saw the girl dressed in brilliant fuchsia, teetering along on mile-high heels, a fascinator bobbing in her hair like an exotic bird of paradise, she knew she’d got it wrong. Not just wrong – horribly, horribly wrong.

She liked this navy blue suit and until that moment had liked it a lot. Some might say it was serviceable, but they were just mean. It was smart, fitted well and she felt OK in it.

At the same time she realised her loose interpretation of Uncle Miles’ edict, ‘Don’t wear black,’ was way off the mark and that perhaps she should have paid more attention to the ‘wear your glad rags’ element of the instruction.

Huddling closer to Robert, equally conservative in dark jacket and trousers, did little to reassure her, as another girl exposing an awful lot of pert cleavage passed them, her stilettos crunching into the gravelled drive up to the chapel. Out of the corner of her eye, Laurie caught Robert’s nipple radar go on high alert, even though he tried to look disapproving. Maybe she should have warned him about today. Not that it would have helped much. You had to have known Uncle Miles to appreciate his … what? Excesses? Eccentricities? Ebullience? She swallowed hard, unable to believe she wouldn’t hear his loud, imperative voice down the phone or see the impatient scrawl that covered his prolific postcards again.

‘Bloody hell,’ Robert breathed.

She looked up. Oh boy, had she ever got it wrong.

Flanking the chapel door were two beautiful blondes in full red and yellow leather cat-suits, very Flash Gordon, with zips slashed open to the navel, handing out Order of Service sheets printed on scarlet, no, make that Ferrari-red, card in the same shade as their glossy nails and pouty, shiny lips.

Taking one with a limp smile, she tugged at Robert’s sleeve, ignoring his dazed look and pulling him inside with her. Could anyone really be struck dumb? It looked as if he might have been.

Inside, the high-beamed room echoed with chatter and the wooden pews were filled with colour, like an aviary of brightly-plumed birds.

Coming down the aisle, she felt like a decrepit Mini Metro at the Goodwood Festival of Speed.

‘Where do you want to sit?’ whispered Robert, indicating the pews with a sweep of his hand, nearly all of which were occupied but not full.

Perceptively perhaps, he didn’t include the front two rows, where the more outlandish of the hats had taken roost. They belonged to Uncle Miles’ coterie of ex-wives, all of whom were happily exchanging conversation and air kisses. Robert didn’t know about them either. She closed her eyes for a second; what had she been thinking bringing him along with her? Pulling a face, she took a breath and focused on the four women in the first two rows of pews.

As family she couldn’t skulk at the back but neither could she join them. They were too damn scary, although to be completely fair, they’d always been kind to her. The third row would do nicely.

‘Mind if we sit here?’ she asked the solitary figure sitting in the next pew.

‘No, you’re good.’ He barely glanced at her before turning away but she caught a flash of blue eyes and unshaven cheeks. Despite the scruffiness of his jeans, he was definitely one of the beautiful people. She could bet he’d worn the casual linen shirt in that shade of turquoise knowing it emphasised the brilliant green of his eyes, and that the stubble was deliberate.