Granny smiled. “When do I ever have the opportunity to wear a gold brooch these days? No, let’s put the money towards Teddy’s education.”

“I’m going to make sure Josh pays for that,” Caroline said bitterly. “It’s the least he can do.” Then she paused, correcting herself. “No, I don’t think I do want his help after all. I want to forget about him. I just want my son home with me. That’s the only thing . . .” She broke off, turning away from her grandmother to hide the tears.

“We’ll get him back, don’t you worry,” Granny said gently.

“But how? What chance do I have against the millions of that Desiree person?”

“You may find that she is the type of person who will soon lose interest in another woman’s child,” Granny commented.

Caroline met her gaze and managed a little smile.

“Come on. Let’s get his room ready for him,” Granny said, taking Caroline’s sleeve. “That will make you feel better.”

It was good to be busy and positive. Teddy would love having more room to himself, to have a window that looked out on a bird feeder and a great big lawn to kick his football around. Then, at Granny’s urging, Caroline had bought herself an air ticket to Venice. What did one pack for Venice in October? What if it rained all the time? And what would she do there after she’d seen the art galleries? She hadn’t known that Great-Aunt Lettie had once studied art. Had she, too, dreamed of being an artist, just like Caroline? What had I wanted? she asked herself. She had been good at art in school but had gravitated towards fashion design, seeing it as a way to rebel against the strict rules of her boarding school—and a way of actually earning a living as an artist. After years of working on the periphery of the fashion industry, she had come to realize the whole thing was an underhanded attempt to force women to keep buying clothes. Fast fashion had taken over. Topshop, H&M, Primark. What was in would be out in a month.

Josh had loved haute couture, to be outlandish and to shock. She realized that he had been dying inside, trapped in high street fashion, designing white T-shirts, and she felt a flicker of understanding for him. But not enough to forgive him for what he had done.

“You’ll see, Josh Grant,” she muttered. “You’ll see that I’m not sitting around waiting for you to jerk the strings and play me like a puppet. How will you feel when you know I’ve gone off to the Continent without you?”

She hoped this speech would give her some satisfaction, but it didn’t really. She realized that she didn’t care if Josh stayed with Desiree and her mansion in Beverly Hills. All she wanted was her son, safely home again with her.

She telephoned Josh to tell him she’d be going abroad for a while.

“What do you mean, ‘going abroad’?” His voice sounded sharp, wary.