‘You could if you really wanted to,’ he suggested, kissing her on the lips, then after pulling away, added, ‘if you found a private carer … listened to your sisters and actually got someone in. They’ll pay for it. Hell, I’ll even chip in too if it means I get some bedroom time with you. When was the last time we had sex?’ Grace turned away to stifle a yawn, the softening towards him now dissipating.

‘I don’t know.’ She could barely keep her eyes open, so love-making was the furthest thing from her mind right now, which instead was crammed with thoughts of I’d do anything right now for a whole night of blissful, uninterrupted sleep.

‘Exactly. So do it, Gracie. Get the carer in and … let me take “care” of you!’ Phil laughed at his own joke as he pushed her back on the sofa and slid a hand up and under her T-shirt in one deft move.

‘I’ll think about it,’ she conceded into the side of his neck, knowing it wouldn’t be as easy as all that. But if she was serious about helping herself, and it seemed that was her only option, given that Bernie, Sinead and Mikey’s intentions were purely monetary when it came to caring for their mother, then it had to be worth a try. Plus it might be nice to be able to participate in her own life again. Maybe she was ready for that new beginning now. Grace had a feeling that she had allowed her grief over the break-up with Matthew to take over and exonerate her in some way from making an effort until now – it was easy to excuse herself from doing the things that brought back happy but painful memories, of the life she used to have with Matthew – when she had the perfect excuse: that her mother needed her. Maybe Phil had a valid point. And because, at that exact moment, Cora pounded her walking stick on the ceiling above them and bellowed,

‘Grace. Grace. Grace! For the love of God. Where is my bedtime drink? I’m near dying of thirst up here while you’re pawing that poor man of yours.’

Chapter 4

Monday afternoon at work and Grace was engrossed in another, more fabulous world, where parties on board yachts on the breathtakingly beautiful Italian Riviera drinking limoncello cocktails and pure glamour prevailed. Connie was happy, meeting and mixing with Italian socialites and a new friend … a glamorous, vivacious Italian woman they all called Cristal due to her love of champagne.

Grace carefully turned the page of the red leather-bound diary embossed with gold initials, CD, on the cover and eagerly read on, revelling in how very ‘Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton in their heyday holidaying in Portofino’ it all was. Connie seemed to be having the time of her life, as if living inside an incredibly romantic Hollywood film.