The Pollyanna Plan (18 page)

‘Mum, did you really mean it when you said that even if you
had
known about Dad’s illness and that you’d lose him, you wouldn’t change anything?’ Emma clutched the phone so tightly, the plastic casing creaked in protest. In her mind’s eye, she envisioned her mother, drawn and pale for months after her dad passed away, moving like a robot through the stripped house.

‘I meant every word,’ her mum responded in a voice filled with resolve. ‘Love and heartache don’t cancel each other out, my dear. All those moments of happiness still exist, despite the pain of your father’s death. They’re not diminished because of it.’

Emma sat stock-still as the words washed over her.

‘And when you love someone,’ her mother continued, ‘you don’t have a choice. Your heart won’t let them go.’

Staring out at the smooth waters of the basin, Emma’s brain buzzed. It was early days with Will, but with the strength of connection and emotion she already felt, the potential for love was definitely there. And despite her best efforts, her heart didn’t want to let him go—no matter what she knew about his illness or the challenges they might face. Emma straightened her spine as the
knowledge
flooded in: she wanted to be with him. It was that simple.

But did he feel the same?

A scream of frustration built up inside. How could she wait until Will returned in the New Year to put this to rest? Lately, all she’d been doing was waiting, waiting, waiting
…
as if the solution would magically appear. Lou’s words about heading to the island, crazy though they were, came to mind. That would be one way to get an answer fast! She shook her head in disbelief. Was she actually considering this?

‘Mum, I’ve got to go,’ Emma said, getting to her feet. ‘I’ll see you at the concert.’

Excitement, nerves and anticipation forced Emma’s legs faster and faster towards the flat as she formulated a plan. If she hopped on a flight as soon as possible, she could be in Croatia by late afternoon, track down Will on the island (hopefully it’d be as easy as Lou had made it sound), and come back Sunday evening in time for work and Meg’s concert the next day. Logistically, it was doable. But was it logical?

‘Screw logic,’ Emma muttered as she puffed up the stairs of her building. She might not ever be Pollyanna, but she wasn’t a slave to logic any longer, either. And no matter how it turned out, at least she wasn’t sitting around, asking herself five zillion questions no one could answer. No, this time she was hunting down life full force. It might be insane, but God, it felt good.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

T
he outline of Lopud came into view, and Emma shivered on the deck of the ferry, buttoning up her thin coat. She hadn’t realised it would be this cold; somehow, she’d thought Croatia stayed warm all year round. At least it was sunny. With golden rays illuminating the island’s treetops and mountains, the whole place looked straight out of a fairytale.

She glanced at her watch. Ten more minutes and the boat would dock. And then
…
Emma shook her head. Then, she hadn’t a clue! She could scarcely believe she was actually
here
. An incredulous laugh bubbled up as she thought of the past few hours.

Back at her flat, she’d snapped open the laptop. Fingers flying over the keyboard, she’d booked an early-afternoon flight to Dubrovnik, grabbed the passport she’d got when George promised Paris for her birthday but took her to a French brasserie in Kensington instead, threw a few things in an oversized handbag, and hopped on the Heathrow Express. It had been packed with
Saturday
travellers, and she’d stood in a daze, listening to the excited pre-holiday buzz.

A couple of hours and one cab ride to Dubrovnik’s port later, Emma had boarded the ferry to Lopud. She’d moved like an automaton, only thinking ahead to the next step. But now she had almost reached her destination
…
with still no plan. What, was she going to randomly canvass strangers and ask if they knew Will, an
Englishman
with a villa? Would these people even speak English? Lou had made it all sound so simple, but Emma was starting to wonder if she’d embarked on a wild goose chase.

The ferry pulled into a bay, and Emma caught her breath at its beauty. The harbour curved gently like a half-moon, cafés and trees lining the seafront. A steep hill dotted with whitewashed houses rose to meet the sky, smoke curling into the air. She could see why Will would come here to get away from everything. It was the
perfect
location.

Emma trundled down the gangplank and onto the dock, watching as the boat glided off to the next island. The noise of its engines receded, leaving the gentle buzz of the islanders as they went about their afternoon business. From what Emma could see, she was the only tourist in sight.

Heaving the handbag onto her shoulder, she made her way past a souvenir shop shuttered for winter. As she strolled along the waterfront, she nodded to the curious locals, trying to work up the nerve to ask about Will. This was stupid, she told herself. After coming all this way, she couldn’t even find the courage to talk to people? Maybe it’d be easier to head into a restaurant or something. The employees might speak a little English if they dealt with tourists in the summer.

Emma paused outside a tiny café. Two bearded men sat at a rickety table, nursing small cups filled with dark liquid resembling tar more than coffee. She nodded a greeting, then pushed her way inside. A man behind the counter glanced up from his newspaper and grunted something she didn’t understand.

‘Um, sorry to disturb you,’ she said. ‘Do you speak English?’

The man nodded. ‘Little.’ He folded the paper and stood. ‘You want coffee? Coke?’

‘Coke, please,’ Emma responded quickly, thinking her stomach wouldn’t forgive nor forget easily if she ingested the sludge she’d seen outside.

The server passed over a warm can, and Emma gave him some money, hoping it was enough. She’d hastily exchanged pounds for Croatian kuna before boarding the plane, and she’d no idea of the exchange rate.

Emma took a deep breath. ‘I wonder if you can help me,’ she began. ‘I’m looking for an Englishman named Will Ballard. His family owns a villa here, and he’s on the island at the moment.’

‘Will?’ The man tilted his head, handing her a jumble of coins.

‘Yes, he has a villa here. Do you know him?’
Please God, may he know him—or at least be able to point me in the right direction.

‘Coffee? Coke?’ the server asked again.

Huh? ‘No, no.’ Emma held up her Coke and smiled. ‘I already have one, thanks. But I’m wondering if you know someone named Will? Will Ballard?’ she repeated, nailing a smile to her face.

The man paused. ‘Coffee? Coke?’

Was this some kind of Croatian-style bribe, Emma wondered? Well, okay, then. It was just a Coke, and if this guy could help her track down Will, it’d be worth it.

‘Coke,’ she said, giving him some change. The server carefully separated the coins into the ancient cash register, then handed her another can. Pausing, Emma waited for the information to come. Instead, he just nodded and settled into his seat again, taking up the newspaper.
What the—?

‘Er, you were going to tell me about Will. The Englishman?’ she attempted once more, feeling like a prize idiot.

The man looked up. ‘Will?’

‘Yes, Will.’ Emma tried hard to keep the impatience from her voice. ‘You know, the one with the villa?’

‘Villa?’ The man’s brow furrowed. ‘Sorry, I don’t speak English. Coke? Coffee?’

‘Shit,’ Emma cursed under her breath. ‘No, thanks.’ Turning on her heel, she hurried from the café, cheeks flaming at her own stupidity. Still, she couldn’t help a wry smile as she glanced down at the two lukewarm cans of Coke in her hands. Shoving one in her bag, she opened the other and let the fizzy, familiar-tasting liquid slide down her throat.

Staring out at a sailboat bobbing on the gentle waves, Emma wondered what to do now. Shrugging, she chose a direction at random, pushing between shuttered buildings along a narrow path. Might as well wander about, do some exploring and hope she did come across a person who spoke enough English to hold a
conversation
.

Ah, here was a shop. Maybe someone inside could help? Will must have to buy his food somewhere, and it wasn’t like the island was heaving with supermarkets. An older woman with tanned skin and lines criss-crossing her face turned at the sound of the bell as the door opened.

‘Hi,’ Emma said, feeling a little shy under the shopkeeper’s scrutiny. ‘Do you speak English?’

‘I do, yes. How can I help?’ The response was heavily accented, but at least the woman knew more words than ‘Coke’ and ‘coffee’.

‘I’m looking for an Englishman named Will Ballard. His family has a villa here on the island.’ Emma crossed her fingers that the woman might have some inkling what she was on about.

Her heart jumped as the shopkeeper moved her head up and down. ‘Will, yes. I know him.’

‘You do? Oh, that’s fabulous!’ Emma only just managed to stop herself from leaping over the counter and throwing her arms around the woman. Thank God she wouldn’t have to wander the island for hours, calling out Will’s name and hoping someone would respond. ‘It would be great if you could tell me where he is.’

‘I know where his villa is, yes.’ The shopkeeper’s stare intensified. ‘But who are you?’

‘Oh.’ Emma paused. How to explain she’d rushed from London in desperation to see if she might have a future with Will, despite everything? ‘I’m Emma, a friend of his from London. I just
…
I really need to talk to him.’ She held the woman’s gaze, willing her to understand.

The shopkeeper’s lips turned up in a smile, transforming her face as if a light was shining from the inside. She came from around the counter and kissed Emma on both cheeks. Despite its leathery appearance, her skin was soft and cool.

‘Any friend of Will’s is very welcome here,’ she said, pulling back and beaming. ‘I am Maria. Come, I’ll take you to the villa.’ And before Emma could respond, Maria had tugged her into the street, closing the door of the shop behind her.

‘Er, don’t you need to lock that?’ Emma asked as she was marched up the alley. Despite Maria’s elderly appearance, she seemed to possess the strength of ten men.

Maria shook her head. ‘No, no. If anyone needs something, they just take it and leave the money. This is a small island and we trust everyone.’

God, imagine that system working in London,
Emma thought as she followed Maria up the steep incline.
Fat chance!
This place was like some kind of utopia. Hopefully, that had influen
ced Will.

‘I am pleased to see you here,’ Maria said over her shoulder. ‘Will has been all alone since he arrived. It will be good for him to have company.’

‘Yes, I thought I’d pop by for a quick visit,’ Emma responded, trying not to huff out the words. How could this woman be in
better
shape than she was?

Probably best to keep to myself that I haven’t actually been invited,
Emma thought.
God knows what Will’s reaction will be.
Now that she was minutes from finding out, her pulse was racing—and not from the exercise—and her belly was queasy, as if she had chugged down the sludgy coffee she’d spotted earlier.

‘It’s there.’ Maria pointed to stairs leading up to a whitewashed house set off the alleyway. A crumbling wall marked out a large garden, its stones glowing in the warm light of the afternoon sun.

Emma swallowed, her insides shifting again as if her gut was too big for her body. She’d done it. She’d come all this way, and now she was here. Inside that house was Will—and the answer to her question: Did he want to be with her, too?

‘I’ll leave you,’ Maria said. ‘If you need anything, please come see me.’

‘Okay. Thanks for your help.’ Relief flooded through Emma that the older woman wasn’t staying to witness Will’s response to her sudden appearance.

Maria nodded, patted Emma’s arm in a motherly way, then turned and scuttled off back down the alley.

Emma climbed the stairs slowly, the twitter of birds and the wind in the pines overhead filling her ears. God, it was quiet—nothing like London, where you’d be lucky to hear yourself think some days. Breathing in the fresh air, she forced herself to take step after step towards the entrance. Words bubbled up inside, eager to escape. Normally, Emma would have paused to examine each one, trying to craft the ideal sentence. But all the analysis in the world wouldn’t clarify anything, she knew. She was following her heart.

Okay, here we go.
Reaching up, she rapped the heavy metal knocker against the wooden door, the bangs echoing the thumping of her heart. Any second now, Will would appear
.…

One minute later, though, the door remained resolutely closed. Emma banged again, even louder this time. Maybe he was upstairs? Or having a shower? She’d wait a little longer, if her heart could stand it. Silence filled her ears once more.

Hmm, still nothing.
Fidgeting, Emma wondered if she should knock one more time. Of all the scenarios she’d imagined, Will not being home wasn’t one of them! Well, it wasn’t a big island. He couldn’t have gone far. She knocked for good measure, waited, then sighed and turned away. As much as she wanted to see him, camping out on the doorstep was a bit much. A snigger escaped at the thought that she—who had flown across Europe uninvited to visit a man who’d blown her off—was worried about going too far.

Emma made her way back down the alley, thinking she’d camp out in a café on the harbour front and pass a few hours, then try again. Perhaps she’d even spot Will in the meantime.

‘Emma!’ Maria’s voice floated from the shop as Emma passed, and Emma backtracked to pop inside. A man around her age was helping Maria unpack a pallet of tins, and he nodded in greeting.

‘My son, Goran,’ Maria said, gesturing towards him. ‘Did you talk to Will?’

Emma shook her head. ‘He wasn’t there.’

Maria’s brow furrowed. ‘Wasn’t there?’ she repeated. ‘He hasn’t left that house all week. Where could he be?’

Goran said something to Maria that Emma didn’t understand, and Maria’s eyebrows rose.

‘What?’ Emma asked, when she couldn’t wait any longer. ‘What did he say?’

‘He saw Will leaving on the ferry earlier today,’ Maria responded, her voice filled with surprise.

‘Leaving?’ Emma’s heart sunk. Surely she hadn’t come all this way only to miss Will.

Goran muttered again, and Maria turned to Emma. ‘He didn’t have any bags with him. Will would have told me if he was returning to London. He must have gone to Dubrovnik for something.’ A wave of understanding slid across her broad features, and she
nodded
. ‘Yes, he spoke to me about needing more paint. The city is the only place to buy such things.’

Relief rushed through Emma. Thank goodness—she couldn’t bear flying home without talking to Will first.

‘The next ferry arrives in a couple hours,’ Maria continued. ‘You are welcome to relax upstairs in our house’—she waved a hand above the shop—‘or explore our lovely island while you’re here. Goran can show you around.’

Goran looked less than thrilled, and as kind as Maria’s offer was, Emma wanted to be on her own. ‘No, don’t worry, I’ll be fine,’ she said quickly.

‘Okay. I will be here if you need anything.’ Maria shot Emma a cheerful grin, and Emma nodded and left the small space. After following the alley back down to the harbour, she strolled along the waterfront, listening to the waves gently lapping the sea wall. She sank onto a bench, breathing in the salty air and staring out at the rising mountains of the mainland. The early morning, hasty journey, and the rush of caffeine and nerves as she waited for Will to open the door combined to make every muscle feel heavy and weighted, like she could barely move.

Turning her face up to the late-afternoon sun, Emma closed her eyes as sleep overtook her.