‘Oh don’t be, dear Fern.’ She patted her hand. ‘If anything, coming here once again by myself has made me realise I’m happy on my own. Don’t get me wrong, I love company. I’ve adored spending time with you and Matteo and all the other guests, but I can’t continue to live a lie. And I think it’s the same for you. You weren’t happy with your husband even before you found out the truth. Now you know, without a doubt, what he’s really like. You deserve so much more. You deserve to be happy and if that means striking out on your own, however hard and scary that may be, in the long run won’t that be the best thing?’
Fern nodded, unable to speak for fear of bursting into tears.
‘Have you spoken to your husband?’
Fern shook her head. ‘I can’t, not yet. Right now I’d be happy if I never saw or spoke to him again. I’m so angry. I’m angry with both of them, but Paul…’ She clenched a handful of the bedspread, imagining for a second that it was Paul’s neck she was squeezing.
‘I admire your restraint.’
Fern frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
‘By not screaming down the phone at your husband. I’m not sure I’d be able to hold my tongue. But also your restraint with Matteo.’
She met Edith’s eyes.
‘The chemistry between you is electric. You’d have to be blind not to notice it. And however much Matteo would like there to be more between the two of you, your behaviour has been honourable…’
‘It really hasn’t…’
Edith held up her hand. ‘How you’ve behaved and the restraint you’ve shown is admirable,’ she said firmly. ‘It makes me think that Matteo will only love you all the more for it.’