The Kiss

Quick Reads 2022

Santa Montefiore

• Publisher: Simon & Schuster UK
• Year: 2022
• Print ISBN: 9781398505544
• eBook ISBN: 9781398505551
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: Italian Literature
• Index: Literature

Sometimes your biggest mistake can also be a blessing... Madison has always known she had a different father to her siblings. But it wasn't until she turned eighteen that she learned his name. And now she wants to meet the man who shares her fair hair and blue eyes. Robert is a very lucky man. A big house, beautiful wife, three handsome sons. Eighteen years ago, he made a mistake. A brief fling that resulted in a daughter nobody else knows about. Robert must finally tell his family the truth. Will they ever be able to forgive him and accept Madison as one of their own?

Chapter 1 The letter

1995, Apple Tree House, Hampshire

Robert Seymour was sitting at the breakfast table in the garden room, reading the newspaper and sipping a cup of coffee, when the letter arrived. Up until that moment it had been a normal Saturday morning at Apple Tree House. Robert had taken the dogs for their walk at eight, leaving his wife Elizabeth asleep in their big, super king-sized bed. He had enjoyed listening to the birdsong and watching the woods emerge from their winter sleep as his two black spaniels charged through the undergrowth, disturbing the odd pheasant or hare.

It was early spring, his favourite time of year, and plucky little shoots were appearing everywhere he looked. Robert returned an hour later to find his eldest son, Jack, already at the breakfast table, tucking into a large plate of eggs and bacon on toast. Jack was twenty-five and home for the weekend from London, where he worked at Sotheby’s auction house. Robert’s two other sons were still in bed and would likely stay there until midday.

The letter sat on the hall table during breakfast, ignored. Robert drank his coffee, ate two slices of marmalade toast and grunted crossly over an article in the newspaper, but generally he was in a good mood. He was sixty-two, fit and handsome, successful and wealthy. He had a beautiful wife ten years his junior and three healthy sons who still enjoyed the company of their parents. He was blessed. He couldn’t deny it. He was very, very lucky.

The letter might have been ignored for the entire morning had it not been for Elizabeth, Robert’s wife, who brought it into the garden room with her cup of tea. It was hidden among a few boring brown envelopes and one or two catalogues from Elizabeth’s favourite shops. She put her teacup on the table, swept her dressing gown beneath her and slid onto the long seat with a sigh.

‘Morning, darling,’ Elizabeth said to her son, idly looking through the post. ‘Did you sleep well?’

‘Like a log,’ Jack replied, pouring himself another cup of coffee.

Elizabeth looked out of the window. ‘Beautiful day,’ she said with a smile, as the garden was indeed bright with sunshine. ‘Did the dogs enjoy their walk?’ she said to her husband.

Robert barely lifted his eyes off the page. ‘They terrorised the wildlife, as usual,’ he mumbled.

Elizabeth placed the catalogues beside her plate. She frowned when she saw the letter. It was a plain white envelope, addressed to Robert Seymour in blue, girlish writing she did not recognise. ‘This one’s for you,’ she said, holding it out. Robert took it and glanced at it. Thinking it must be from a godchild, he left it on the table and continued to read the newspaper.

It wasn’t until the very end of breakfast, when Elizabeth had gone upstairs to change and Jack and Robert were left alone at the table, planning a game of golf, that Robert opened the envelope with a knife. He pulled the letter out and unfolded it. His eyes read the first line. It took a great deal of self-control not to cry out, gasp or swear. Instead, he folded it calmly and put it back in the envelope, hoping his son did not notice his trembling fingers or the blood draining from his face. ‘Let’s set off at ten,’ he said, getting up. ‘There are one or two things I need to do in my study first.’

As Robert walked across the hall to his study he felt as if he were wading through concrete. He looked steady, calm even, yet his heart thumped against his ribcage like a magpie in a trap, throwing itself against the bars. He closed the study door behind him and sank into a leather chair with a groan. He swept his hand over his forehead – which was now damp with sweat – and sat a moment with the letter in his hand, as still as a statue. This letter would change everything.

Eventually, he slipped it out of the envelope and read it. He had known it would come one day, but had hoped that something might happen to prevent it. Nothing had, for here it was. Her handwriting was real. She was real and there was nothing he could do about it. His eyes took in the words and, as he digested them, he knew he only had himself to blame.

Dear Mr Seymour,

My name is Madison. I am your daughter. My mother, Alice Flynn, has given me your name, having promised for as long as I can remember that the identity of my real father would be revealed to me on my eighteenth birthday. I’m sorry if this has come out of the blue, or shocked you, but, as you have financially supported me since I was born, I know that you will have probably been expecting me to contact you around now. I would also love to meet you. My details are at the top of this letter and I very much hope that you will reply.

Yours sincerely, Madison

Robert stuffed the letter into the envelope and got up from his chair. He felt sick, as if he were in a little boat rising and falling on the waves. He staggered over to his desk where he kept a china dish full of knick-knacks and loose change. He burrowed about for the key to unlock the top right-hand drawer of his desk. He placed the envelope at the very bottom of the drawer, beneath a pile of important papers. This time when he locked it, he hid the key inside the cover of a David Bowie album stacked among his favourite CDs in the bookcase. His wife was not a fan of David Bowie.

Robert Seymour’s Saturday had been ruined. What had started as a normal day had turned into the most abnormal day in his entire life. He needed air. He needed to be outside in the garden, among the birdsong and the budding trees and bushes, and he needed to be alone. He did not even take the dogs. He hurried through the house, hoping that Elizabeth wouldn’t detain him in the hall, or call him back as he left by the back door. He held his breath, crept as quietly as he could and snuck out, leaving two confused little faces behind the door. They were wondering why he had left them inside when he always took them with him into the garden.

Robert hurried towards the vegetable garden, which was hidden behind an old brick and flint wall. As soon as he was out of sight of the house, and Elizabeth’s sharp vision, he took a deep breath. He sank onto a wooden bench and put his head in his hands. Oh Lord, he sighed, what have I got myself into?

But there was no point beating himself up about a brief one-night stand he’d had eighteen years ago on a business trip in New York. He remembered her now. Alice Flynn, a young journalist staying in the same hotel to interview a well-known film director. What was done was done.

He couldn’t go back and undo it. He couldn’t even hide it. Evidence of his extramarital fling was about to burst onto his peaceful family life like a volcano that has been dormant for eighteen years suddenly exploding into lava and flame. Oh Lord, he groaned. What am I to do?

He couldn’t remember much about Alice Flynn. She’d been young and pretty, of course, but even her prettiness had faded from memory. He wouldn’t have remembered her at all if she hadn’t contacted him nine months later with the horrendous news that she had given birth to his child, a little girl. She’d named her Madison after the street near the hotel where she’d been conceived.

Robert had been left no alternative than to pay Alice off. Anything to keep her quiet. Anything to save his marriage and his happy family life – by then he and Elizabeth had been married for nine years and had three enchanting boys. He’d agreed to pay a monthly allowance for the child’s upkeep.

He’d said nothing about meeting her once she turned eighteen. But he didn’t blame Madison for wanting to know her father. It was just a question of whether he could keep his daughter a secret. Did Elizabeth have to know?

‘Dad!’ It was Jack, calling him for golf. He looked at his watch. It was past ten. He got up and made towards the door in the wall.

It was going to be fine, he told himself. He’d write back and suggest a meeting in London. They’d have lunch or, even better, tea, and his family wouldn’t have to know anything about it.

Chapter 2 Madison

It had been a week since Madison had written the letter. Every morning she waited for the post, hoping that he had written back. She listened out for the telephone too, just in case he chose to call. She had left both her address and telephone number at the top of the page. ‘Don’t worry, he’ll get in touch,’ her mother reassured Madison. ‘He won’t want you turning up on his doorstep.’

Madison had not wanted to alarm him by writing the letter. She knew he was married and had three sons who were all older than her. It was obvious that his wife had no idea of Madison’s existence. Madison wasn’t about to upset her by turning up and exposing her husband as an adulterer. She just wanted to know where she came from.

Her mother had told her on her eighteenth birthday that she had been conceived during a night of passion in New York. Alice had been a young English freelance journalist writing an article for Vanity Fair. By then Robert Seymour was already a successful TV producer. Now, of course, he had his own production company.

Back then her mother had known he was married. She hadn’t wanted anything more than a fun night with Robert, she claimed. At the age of twenty-eight, she’d certainly not wanted to get pregnant. Robert was handsome in a very English way: fair-haired with denim-blue eyes, a long, straight nose and a charming smile.

Alice told Madison that he’d had a way with the ladies, a wicked twinkle in his eye, and she had assumed he’d probably cheated on his wife before. They had had a late-night drink in the bar. He had spent the day in meetings and was looking for entertainment. After a few cocktails and a lot of flirting, they had weaved their way up to his room. He had a suite, Alice recalled. She had been impressed. The following morning, they had breakfast together – room service, which was exciting for Alice, who wasn’t used to that sort of luxury. Then they had parted as friends.

Nine months later, Madison was born. Alice had tracked Robert down, which hadn’t been difficult, as he was a high-profile person. He had been very good about it, although the shock had likely been immense. They had met in London, at a coffee shop in Covent Garden, and made a deal. Robert had been generous, as she knew he would be. He had too much to lose by being stingy.

‘You look like your father,’ her mother said. ‘Blonde, blue-eyed. And you both love films. I’m sure you’ll get on like a house on fire.’

Alice understood why Madison wanted to meet her biological father. Although she didn’t feel it was necessary. She had married when Madison was three years old and Madison had three siblings. Tom, Alice’s husband, had been a wonderful father to her. He had never made her feel less than his own children. To Tom, Madison was his daughter.

The only contribution Robert had made to her life, besides co-creating it, was monthly payments. Tom was the one who had read her bedtime stories, played with her in the garden, built her a Wendy house from scratch. He had kissed her grazed knee when she fell off her bike and wrapped his big arms around her when she needed comfort.

Alice would have preferred Madison not to have written that letter to Robert, but she hadn’t tried to stop her. Madison would meet him in London, they would have an awkward tea somewhere grand, and that would be that. Robert would want nothing more to do with her and, as she was now eighteen, the payments had stopped. He had kept his side of the bargain. It was a relationship that wasn’t going to go anywhere. How could it?

---

Madison gazed at herself in the mirror, as she had done over the years, and tried to find traces of her real father. Her mother had never kept him secret. Madison had known Tom wasn’t her natural father for as long as she could remember, in the same way that she had known Joe, Becky and Elsie weren’t her full siblings. Her mother had never made a big deal out of it, so Madison hadn’t either. However, she had searched her features for him, this mystery man who had brought her into the world, every time she looked in the glass.

Madison stared at herself now. She knew she had his blue eyes, because her mother had told her. Alice had brown eyes. Robert was also fair, like Madison. Alice was dark-haired and olive-skinned. In fact, when Madison stared at her reflection she was sure that she saw her father staring back at her, because she barely saw her mother at all.

Another morning went by and no letter arrived from Robert Seymour. Madison, who was studying for her A Levels, tried to concentrate. However, it was impossible to think of anything else but the letter that never came. Had she written her address clearly on the envelope? Had she made a mistake with the telephone number? Maybe he was on holiday and hadn’t even received it.

She closed her file and walked down to the beach. It was a short walk if she cut across a field. Normally she would have taken pleasure from the buttercups and cow parsley but today she felt sad. If she never got to meet her real father, she’d only ever know half of herself.

Madison ha...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title Page
• Dedication
• Chapter 1: The Letter
• Chapter 2: Madison
• Chapter 3: The Meeting
• Chapter 4: The Secret
• Chapter 5: The Gamble
• Chapter 6: Villa Aurora
• Chapter 7: Three New Brothers
• Chapter 8: An Unexpected Suggestion
• Chapter 9: Giovanni’s Vineyard
• Chapter 10: Florence
• Chapter 11: A Game of Tennis
• Chapter 12: The Midnight Swim
• Chapter 13: The Departure
• Chapter 14: The Wedding
• Chapter 15: The Kiss
• Acknowledgements
• About the Author
• Copyright