But I’ve never been to Asia.  

All these impressions hit me in seconds. I raise my eyes upwards and Jake is looking down at me, his eyes full of pity.

‘That’s her?’ I ask in a shocked whisper.

‘That’s Vivien.’

‘Oh my God!’ I cry. The girl in the photo looks exactly like me. The similarity is uncanny. Except for her hair color, I am her twin.

‘I’m sorry,’ Jake says softly.

Suddenly everything makes sense. Everything! It explains why the whole family had behaved so strangely when Dom introduced me. I’d thought it was because Dom was dating a tax inspector, but now I know. Ah! That would nicely explain away the uneasy, quickly hidden expression on his mother’s face whenever she thought I wasn’t looking.

A thought seeds itself into my head.

‘Did you already know what I looked like when we met?’

‘Yes, Shane had warned us all.’

I nod slowly, taking the information in. ‘Did Shane know Vivien?’

He frowns. ‘Of course. Dom was going to marry her.’

‘I see.’ Some part of my rational brain makes the observation that only Shane in this family is truly impenetrable. His classically handsome face had betrayed nothing when he had met me for the first time at the party. Nothing but an open friendliness and an irresistible charm.

‘Right,’ I say slowly. My whole life is falling apart around me. ‘So, Dom went out with me because I reminded him of his dead fiancée.’

‘I’m sure the fact that you look like her has something to do with it, but you’re totally different in every way.’

I look at him with disbelieving eyes.

‘Everything about you is different. She was selfish, tempestuous, controlling and impulsive, and you are careful, kind, considerate and deep.’

Oh my God. The way he describes me makes me sound so boring. I cover my eyes with the palms of my hands. What a fucking mess!

Jake comes over and goes down on his haunches in front of me. Startled, I uncover my eyes. Jake at close quarters is an intimidating experience. It’s like being too close to a live wire. Part of me wants to move away.

As if he knows that I am uncomfortable, he fixes me with his mesmerizing eyes and moves in for the kill. ‘Remember, when I said Vivien was no good for him, I truly meant it. You are the perfect match. You balance him and bring out the best in him. You make him happy.’

‘But he wants her. She is his true soul mate. I’m just a poor imitation.’ It hurts like hell to voice the thought. I feel the tears start welling up in my eyes.

‘Ella, listen to me. He was eighteen. She was his first love. Do you remember what you were like when you were eighteen? If he had married her, it would have been a disaster, and they would have ended up hating each other and getting divorced. But because she died, she has become his dancing queen, young and sweet, only seventeen. A great, lost love. But he has suffered enough. She’s gone, and you’re here.’

‘I’m nothing to him.’

‘You have no idea what you’ve done for him. The demons had completely taken over when you came into his life. You broke them up with your softness.’

I stare at him wordlessly. How much I want to believe him, but my heart feels like it’s breaking into pieces. He never wanted me. He was trying to replace her. When he was touching me, he was really touching her.

‘He never really wanted me,’ I sob. ‘The whole time he was pretending I was her.’

He reaches out a hand and touches my cheek. His hand is warm and gentle. And it makes me want to lean into it for the comfort it holds.

‘Ah, Ella. You’re not a man. I am. Take it from me. My brother wanted Vivien the way a boy wants a girl. He wants you with the passion with which a man wants a woman. Let him discover that. Give him a chance. There’s a lot of Dom that you’ve not seen yet.’ He smiles tenderly and removes his hand.

I stare at him through a film of tears. The kindness and softness that he’s showing has surprised me. He always looks so unreachable and aloof.

‘But he doesn’t want to be with me anymore,’ I say softly.

‘If you believed that you wouldn’t be here now.’

I sniff. ‘So what do I do? Wait for him to come to me?’

He shrugs. ‘I won’t tell you what to do, but if I were you I wouldn’t let anything stand in the way of something I wanted. I’d go and fight for it until it was mine or I had died trying. The journey has just begun and the destination could be a very beautiful place.’

He stands, and walks away from me toward his desk. He comes back with a box of tissues. I pull out a couple and wipe my face. Then I stand.

‘I should be going,’ I say.

‘I’ll walk you to your car.’

‘There’s no need.’

‘I want to,’ he says with a gentle smile.

I turn toward him. ‘Thank you, Jake.’

‘I’ll always be here for you. Don’t give your ear to the devil.’

To love too much is to lick honey from the point of a knife.

TWENTY-THREE

I think I was OK while I was in Jake’s house. While I was saying goodbye to Lily and Liliana. I was even OK when Jake closed the car door for me and waved me away.

It hits me when I’m on the motorway.

Suddenly my windpipe feels like it is full of concrete. I can’t breathe. I swerve into the hard shoulder. Horns blare. I screech to a stop. I feel as if I’m suffocating. I open the car door and stumble out. I lurch to the edge of the road and collapse holding my throat. I take shallow breaths.

On my hands and knees, I pant until I feel my airways open. Cars whoosh past at great speed. Somebody thinks to stop his car up ahead. A man runs toward me. I hold my hand up, the palm facing him to tell him not to come forward. He stops a few yards away.

‘Are you OK?’

I nod.

‘Do you want me to call an ambulance?’

I shake my head.

‘You sure?’

I nod and smile weakly at him.

‘Want me to wait with you?’

I shake my head again, touched by the kindness of this stranger.

He raises his hand in some kind of acknowledgment and, turning around, starts to walk away.

‘Hey,’ I call out.

He turns back.

‘Thank you.’

‘It’s all right,’ he says, and with a backward wave returns to his car. I watch him drive away. I sit by the side of the road, and, with the engine of my car still running, I burst into a flood of tears. When it’s all over, I get back into my car and drive home. There, I stand in the shower and let the water wash away my pain. I wrap myself in a robe and call Anna. I tell her everything.

‘I’m coming over,’ she says. ‘Put some shot glasses in the freezer.’

‘Oh, Anna,’ I sigh, tears filling my eyes.

‘We need to get drunk. It’s been ages.’

She arrives at my doorstep with two bottles of her father’s homemade gooseberry vodka. She gets the cold glasses out of the freezer and pours us a shot each. The sweet, sharp taste is like summer in a glass.

I down another shot and put the glass on the coffee table with a thump. One bottle is rolling on the floor and this bottle is almost half empty.

Anna claps her hands excitedly. ‘I know what. You should become the coffee beans,’ she slurs.

I frown blearily. ‘The coffee beans?’

‘You know. From the story on the Internet about the grandmother, the broccoli.’ She stops, her eyes narrowed. ‘No, wait. It wasn’t broccoli. It was carrots. Yeah, that’s right, the carrots, the eggs and the coffee beans.’

‘I don’t know the story.’

She sits straighter. ‘This woman gets cheated on—’