England Spring, 2001
Luca stood alone in the library, gazing out of the window at the glistening gardens of Dinton Manor. The clouds hung low and heavy in the Hampshire sky, releasing a light but persistent drizzle. A couple of blackbirds pecked the grass in search of worms before returning to the towering lime trees that had just begun to sprout new green leaves. The peaceful silence was punctuated every now and then by whoops of laughter that erupted from the drawing-room on the other side of the hall where the rest of the house party were commenting loudly on the Sunday papers or playing Scrabble. Luca found their joie de vivre grating. He had only come for Freya, having lost touch with her over the years. He admired her home, her family, her obvious contentment, and realised that in the last two decades he had somehow drifted off course.
He blew smoke against the glass, lost in a fog of melancholy as he considered his life. He was forty-one. Single again. Father of two little girls entangled in the wreckage of an acrimonious divorce. Unemployed, having quit the City after twenty years as a fund manager, making money with such dedication that making money had become an end in itself – a greedy, empty existence that gave him no satisfaction.
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