Jules Wake - From Rome with Love - Escape the winter blues with the perfect feel-good romance!

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 2017

Copyright © Jules Wake 2017

Cover design by Holly Macdonald, HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 2017

Cover images © Shutterstock.com

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.

Ebook Edition © January 2017 ISBN: 9780008221942

Version 2017-01-04

For Tina Mundy,

who understands the important things in life.

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page 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 2017 Copyright © Jules Wake 2017 Cover design by Holly Macdonald, HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 2017 Cover images © Shutterstock.com 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. Ebook Edition © January 2017 ISBN: 9780008221942 Version 2017-01-04

Dedication For Tina Mundy, who understands the important things in life.

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

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

Also by Jules Wake

About the Author

About HarperImpulse

About the Publisher

‘Nan, what are you doing?’

Lisa stepped over a pile of tablecloths and linens covering the living-room floor of her Nan’s tiny lounge. She lived a couple of streets away and Lisa popped around most days after work for a cup of tea – not that Nan ever seemed particularly grateful, although she was quick to complain if Lisa missed a day.

‘What do you think I’m doing? Inviting the Queen to tea?’ She bustled by, a miniature dynamo rustling a large black dustbin bag in her hand. At four-foot nothing, with a face concertinaed by time, she looked as if she’d shrunk, leaving her skin two sizes too big. ‘I’m having a sort-out.’

‘Again.’ Lisa shook her head in dismay, looking at the piles of mismatched napkins, lace doilies and faded pillowcases, most of which she’d never seen before.

‘When am I ever going to use this lot? Load of old rubbish, cluttering up the place, attracting a shedload of moths. There’s a hole in my cardigan.’ Nan didn’t say the words but Lisa knew the thinking behind the latest clear-out. ‘I’m not getting any younger.’

‘Nan, there’s years left in you.’ Her grandmother was an indomitable force of nature. Pushing eighty-five and as sharp as they came. She had all her marbles, and then some.

‘That’s as maybe, but I don’t need all this tat.’ Her mouth wrinkled, prune-like, in derision. ‘It’ll save you the job when I’m dead and gone.’

‘I hate it when you say things like that.’

‘Don’t be daft. Now give us a hand with that box over there.’

‘You never brought that down from the loft on your own?’ asked Lisa incredulously.

‘Course I did. Who else? You think Superman popped by?’ Her nan shook her head in amused disgust.

‘Where do you want it?’

‘I don’t want it. I’m chucking it out. There’s a load of your granddad’s books in there. No good to anyone. But if you want them, help yourself.’

Lisa picked up the ancient cardboard box, resting her chin on the top to keep the uppermost layer of books from slithering precariously on to the floor as she moved it towards the dining table. As she was about to put it down, the bottom gave way and a flood of hard-backed books cascaded to the floor, brittle paper flapping as some of the books collapsed, the pages fluttering out like pigeons released and the hard corners knocking her shins as they landed.

‘Now look what you’ve done,’ Nan tsked, sucking on her teeth.

‘Don’t worry, I’ll pick everything up. Don’t want you putting your back out, do we?’

‘There’s nowt wrong with my back, Missy,’ retorted Nan, as usual refusing to admit to any weakness or acknowledge her creaking joints. ‘But I’ll put the kettle on while you tidy up.’ She shuffled off to the kitchen, leaving Lisa piling the books on the table. Most of them were ancient, the print so tiny and close together that they were difficult to read and the paper was yellowed and speckled with mildew. None of the titles or authors were any she’d heard of and in this state she couldn’t imagine anyone would want them.

As she bent to pick up the last two books, they see-sawed in her hand, separated by a bulky brown envelope that had been sandwiched between them. Although her mother had died when she was seven, Lisa recognised her distinctive rounded handwriting on the front of the envelope immediately. For Vittorio. The words had faded, the final o almost invisible, but they were underlined with two vivid dark slashes, which Lisa instinctively felt turned them into an instruction.