Rose Alexander - Under an Amber Sky - A Gripping Emotional Page Turner You Won’t Be Able to Put Down

Her light-hearted tone did not mask the prescience of her words. This time, the thought of Matt was almost too much, reminding Sophie of his coffin disappearing behind the curtain at the crematorium, making her think about where he might have gone, where he might be now. She wasn’t sure if she believed in heaven, but couldn’t bear to think that he was nowhere, that he simply no longer existed, was not even a soul soaring somewhere far above the sky.

Mileva was talking again, and Sophie forced her attention back to her. ‘My third husband bought the house many years ago, in 1960 I think. I wasn’t married to him then, of course. We didn’t meet until the late Seventies.’ Mileva smiled, a wistful, nostalgic smile, as if looking back on good times, gone but not forgotten.

Sophie nodded, inwardly absorbing both Mileva’s ability to talk about her past love without the taint of sorrow that marred all her own memories, and also the fact that Mileva had been married three times. What had happened to husbands one and two? It felt too intrusive to ask.

‘He purchased it from a Serbian man who had rented it out for years. An absentee landlord, I suppose you would call him now,’ continued Mileva, dreamily. ‘The last family to live here had long gone. Apparently, they were tenants all through the Thirties and early Forties, but after the war they moved away from the area. The Serbian man was already ill and infirm and he simply left the place unoccupied and untouched until Zoran – my husband – bought it.’

‘Gosh,’ responded Sophie, inadequately. ‘It seems strange to think someone had no use for a property so beautiful, but …’ She left the sentence hanging, unsure where she wanted to take it. There were so many derelict houses around, testimony to people leaving for work, family, or myriad other reasons. Then she thought of something. ‘Where did the old tenants go?’ She wondered if they wanted their things back. Surely not, after the passage of so much time.

‘I’ve no idea what happened to them, or where they went,’ continued Mileva, as if reading Sophie’s mind. ‘They left so much behind, including that bureau, but people had no money in those times to pay for packers or removal firms. My husband and I came here only during summer, and somehow we never quite got round to sorting it all out.’ Mileva paused for breath, and met Sophie’s eyes. ‘So anything you want you are welcome to keep.’

‘If you’re sure,’ Sophie blurted out, holding back tears with difficulty. ‘Thank you.’ She had no idea why she was saying this when it was clear she was not going to be the house’s purchaser.

‘I’m sure,’ she vaguely heard Mileva say, her voice faint with tiredness. ‘And God bless.’

***

Stepping out onto the street, Sophie was momentarily blinded by the sun’s glare. The heat was stultifying. Anna, dragging a whinging Tomasz – who was unsettled by being disturbed from his impromptu nap – followed. After her came Jovanka, shutting the door behind her.

‘Are you going to put in an offer?’ she asked, addressing Sophie whilst Anna was half hidden inside the car. ‘The house will not stay around for long at this price.’ Her tone was forceful.

‘Oh no …’ Sophie began.

‘I’m not sure.’ Anna’s voice, as she emerged, rose above Sophie’s. ‘We’ll have to think about it. It’s a lovely house but there is a lot of work to do, so –’

Jovanka was momentarily distracted by her phone ringing.

‘Be careful,’ hissed Sophie. ‘You’ll make Jovanka think you’re in the running.’ She caught the glint in Anna’s eyes and stopped, abruptly.

‘I don’t know what you’re up to, but I’m not sure I like it, whatever it is.’

Anna merely shrugged and smiled in response.

Jovanka was off the phone again now.

‘That was the representative of the Russians who saw the house yesterday,’ she said. ‘They will definitely be offering, later today or tomorrow.’

‘OK. That’s interesting to know. We’ll be in touch.’ Anna’s voice had an affected air of disinterest about it. She shook Jovanka’s hand and opened the driver’s door. ‘Speak later.’

In the car, Anna decisively clicked her seat belt into the catch. ‘Never let estate agents think you’re too keen,’ she stated, definitively. ‘And if she thinks we were taken in by that Russian buyer story, well, she must think we were born yesterday.’

Sophie put her head in her hands. ‘Why are you playing games?’ she asked, when she had recovered enough composure to speak. ‘You’re not even thinking of buying that house, are you?’

‘I’m not,’ replied Anna, speeding off along the shimmering bay road amidst a cacophony of horns at her sudden pulling-out. ‘But why don’t you?’

The strobing sunlight streaming through the trees that lined the road was like a flashing neon sign, impossible to ignore.

‘Me?’ Sophie wasn’t sure whether to be angry or amused.

Anna slowed down as a cluster of houses approached. ‘Think about it.’

Chapter 2

The route to the beach took them all along the waterfront, past numerous other ancient stone houses, many restored, others even more romantically dilapidated than the one they had just viewed, with dark ivy growing thickly up crumbling walls and through broken windowpanes. Everywhere were tiny konobas , all boasting prime waterfront positions, the many piers that jutted into the flat blue sea bright with tables laid for lunch. Fishing boats of all sizes lazily drifted on the calm water and seabirds swooped and soared above. Alongside one house, a quaint but rusting communist-era, banana-yellow Trabant – barely bigger than a motorbike sidecar – was chocked up on bricks and awaiting restoration.

‘It’s like I imagine the South of France – Nice or St Tropez – circa 1950,’ mused Sophie, gazing out of the hire car window. ‘I keep expecting Princess Grace to appear in front of me, all priceless elegance and white gloves, and get into an open-top car and drive off to lunch somewhere divine.’

Anna laughed. ‘I know what you mean. And apparently, according to the guidebook I was reading on the plane, she loved it here.’ She paused for thought, frowning. ‘Or maybe it was Ava Gardner. I forget.’

‘Well, both always had immaculate taste, didn’t they?’ replied Sophie. She saw Anna glance at her, as if trying to work out what she was feeling before replying.

‘Sure did.’ Anna clunked the gears as she had to suddenly slow down for a fast-approaching vehicle. ‘So are you glad we came? Despite the reluctance?’

***

In the immediate aftermath of Matt’s death, Sophie had cocooned herself at her parents’ house, the house in which she had grown up, where she had lived until she and Matt had left home to move in together. For days, she had been unable to get up but had lain in bed in the bedroom that had been hers for so many years. Flat on her back, staring at the ceiling, the tears slid off her cheeks and soaked her pillow and nightie.

Her mother had lent her the nightdress, which was long and white and ethereal, like something a Victorian consumptive might wear whilst waiting to cough up her lungs. It was supremely unsexy and Matt would probably not have allowed her into bed with it on. But now Matt would never comment on her night attire, or any other aspect of her, ever again.

At short-spaced intervals, her mother Helena would come in with tea and biscuits and a look of quiet desperation in her eyes that grew ever more despairing as the days passed. Sophie would regard her, and the steaming mug on the bedside table, from beneath half-closed, swollen lids, unable to respond to either. There was no point in any of it.

‘You need to have something, love. You’ve hardly eaten or drunk anything since … You didn’t have any dinner last night, or the night before.’ Helena pursed her lips and inhaled deeply. ‘It won’t do any good for you to get ill.’