There was none.
But that didn’t mean it couldn’t be manufactured.
Or was she being hopelessly paranoid?
Skye tried to shake off her worry as she threw off her masseur clothes on which she’d spilled some oil, took a shower, then dressed in jeans and T-shirt to go and pick up Matt from school. Only three more weeks now and the school year would be over. Her life here at Brighton-Le-Sands would be over.
Luc wanted to get married before Christmas and once they were, she and Matt would move to his Bondi apartment where they’d live until this last contract with the Peretti Corporation was completed. Then they’d relocate, close to wherever Luc decided to set up business for himself.
It was all settled.
Except the black limousine made her feel unsettled.
Skye decided she would tell Luc about it tonight when he called, as he called every night to chat with her and Matt over the phone. He had informed his family about their forthcoming marriage. Predictably the news had not been met with joy. Luc had insisted it didn’t matter. The future he wanted revolved around her and Matt.
Skye believed him. All this year he’d shown he was happy with them, persuading her that a marriage between them was workable, despite his family lurking in the background. His decision to resign from his position in his father’s business empire was the ultimate proof of freedom from an influence she’d still feared. It gave her far more confidence in their future together.
But would his family leave them alone?
The limousine was still there when she left the house to walk to Matt’s school. She could have driven the Alfa so as not to feel exposed to watching eyes, but it was a fine sunny afternoon and it wasn’t her habit to drive when a walk would be pleasant. Besides, she had nothing to hide.
Matt was bubbling with news about the end of year school concert. They’d just had a rehearsal for it. His class was doing a selection of nursery rhymes in song and action and he was demonstrating how he twinkled like a star, singing away at the top of his voice as they turned into their street.
The limousine had not moved.
Matt broke off his song to comment, ‘The big black car is there again, Mummy.’
‘So it is,’ she replied, trying to sound careless.
‘Maybe a giant lives in it,’ he speculated. ‘His legs are too long to fit in an ordinary car.’
‘You could be right,’ Skye lightly agreed while her mind painted in a scary giant, like Maurizio Peretti whose great wealth gave him a very long reach.
‘Look, Mummy! The door is opening!’ Matt cried excitedly, delighted at the prospect of seeing the occupant.
The driver’s door! So someone was inside behind the tinted windows! Skye felt herself tensing up but the chauffeur who emerged was not enough in himself to confirm her fears.
‘It’s just a man in a uniform,’ Matt said in disappointment.
The man in the uniform rounded the bonnet of the limousine and opened the far side passenger door, perking up Matt’s anticipation again.
‘There must be someone else, too.’
Just keep walking, Skye told herself, determined not to be intimidated by the someone else.
‘It’s a lady,’ came Matt’s surprised commentary.
A lady, indeed, Skye thought bitterly, her spine instantly stiffening as she recognised Luc’s mother. No doubt now that the limousine was associated with his family. The chauffeur escorted Flavia Peretti across the street and was dismissed by her when she was safely on the sidewalk, right next to the front gate where Luc had stood waiting, nine months ago.
‘Is she coming to our place, Mummy?’ Matt asked, curiosity enlivened by this strange visitor who was watching their approach.
‘Maybe she wants to ask for directions, Matt,’ Skye temporised, unsure what to expect from this meeting and unwilling to expose her son to a relationship that might prove harmful.
Flavia Peretti looked very imposing, elegantly dressed in black, her hair more grey than Skye remembered, though perfectly groomed as always. She had a strong-boned face and a very upright figure, tall enough to carry her weight well, very much an Italian Mamma, although the softness of her womanly curves belied the hardness of her judgemental character. She was staring at Matt, just as Luc had done—the son of her son, her only grandchild.
‘Why is she looking at me?’ Matt asked.
‘Perhaps you remind her of someone,’ Skye answered, worrying that an introduction was about to be forced.
And then what?
Her stomach was churning. Her mind was, too. Why had Flavia Peretti come now? What was the point of this visit? To try to stop her from marrying Luc? To get to her while her precious son was away, destroy her trust in their love?
All Skye’s protective instincts told her to keep Matt out of any confrontation with Luc’s mother. Needing to distract attention away from her son, as soon as they were close enough, she called out, ‘Can I help you?’
Flavia Peretti lifted her gaze from Matt, looking at Skye with a determined directness that mocked any pretence of not knowing who she was. ‘Miss Sumner…’ she started, letting her own identification of Skye hang for a moment.
‘Yes? Do you want to make an appointment?’ Skye rushed out, hoping the evasive tactic might raise a decent sense of discretion. She put her hand pointedly on Matt’s shoulder as they paused by the gate, waiting for an answer.
The intense dark eyes, so very like Luc’s, flashed a rueful understanding. ‘If I may come inside?’ she replied with cool dignity, giving way to Skye’s silent demand while exerting her own pressure for a private meeting.
‘Of course,’ Skye muttered, opening the gate and handing Matt the door-keys. ‘Go ahead and change into play clothes while I see to business.’
Accustomed as he was to her dealing with clients, Matt didn’t question the situation, and Skye breathed a sigh of relief when he obeyed without giving in to the temptation to question the lady about the extraordinary size of her car, either.
Skye watched him go inside before turning back to Luc’s mother whose gaze was still trained on the opened front door which Matt had left ajar for them to follow. Inviting the enemy inside was certainly not to Skye’s liking. She quickly asked, ‘Why have you come here, Mrs Peretti?’
‘I wanted to see my grandchild,’ came the flat answer.
‘You’ve seen him.’
‘He’s like Luciano.’ The words were wistful, with an undercurrent of yearning.
‘And me,’ Skye stated fiercely, demanding her parenthood be recognised.