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Authors: Santa Montefiore
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Santa Montefiore
The Mermaid Garden
A Novel
The internationally bestselling author of
The French Gardener
presents a complex and
irresistibly compelling novel that confirms the remarkable power of love to heal and
transform.
en year old Floriana is captivated by the beauty of the Tuscan villa that overlooks the sea just outside her village. She likes to spy from the crumbling wall into the gardens and T imagine living there. Then, one day, Dante, the son of the villa’s wealthy owner invites her inside. He shows her the enchanting Mermaid Garden and from that moment on Floriana knows that her destiny is in that garden, with him. But as they grow up they cross an unseen line, jeopardising the very thing they hold most dear.
Decades later, a beautiful country house hotel on England’s Devon coast has fallen on hard times after the crash of 2008. Its owner, Marina, advertises for an artist-in-residence to stay the summer and teach the guests to paint. The charismatic and wise man she hires soon begins to pacify the discord in her family and transform the fortunes of the hotel. However, he is not who he seems. He has his own agenda. Is it to destroy, to seduce, or to heal?
Spanning four decades and sweeping from the Italian countryside to the English coast, this new story by Santa Montefiore is a moving and mysterious tale of love, forgiveness and the past revealed.
Praise for Santa Montefiore:
“Santa Montefiore is a superb storyteller….Her plots are sensual, sensitive and complex: her characters are unforgettable life forces: her love stories are desperate yet uplifting. One laughs as much as one cries.”—Plum Sykes, author of
The Debutante Divorcee
“Epic in scope and emotion, but also brilliantly observant and truthful…surprising, moving, and skillful.” —Elizabeth Buchan, author of
Separate Beds
“Montefiore is a grand storyteller. All in all, a fine way for American readers to get to know the Montefiore name, which will very soon be cropping up in the same sentences as the name Maeve Binchy.”
—
Booklist,
starred review
Santa Montefiore
is the author of
The French Gardener
,
The Perfect Happiness
, and many other novels that have been translated into twenty languages and sold more than three million copies worldwide. She lives in London with her husband, historian Simon Sebag-Montefiore, and their two children.
The Mermaid Garden
May 3, 2011
Touchstone
Fiction
6 x 9, 432 pages
$24.99/NCR
ISBN: 978-1-4516-2430-4
Contact: Marcia Burch
NONMERCH9781451635638
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Also by Santa Montefiore
The Perfect Happiness
The French Gardener
Sea of Lost Love
The Gypsy Madonna
Last Voyage of the Valentina
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The
Mermaid
Garden
Santa Montefiore
A Touchstone Book
Published by Simon & Schuster
New
York London Toronto Sydney
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Touchstone
A Division of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
1230 Avenue of the Americas
New York, NY 10020
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2011 by Santa Montefiore
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Touchstone Subsidiary rights Department, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020.
First Touchstone hardcover edition May 2011
TOUCHSTONE and colophon are registered trademarks of
Simon & Schuster, Inc.
For information about special discounts for bulk purchases,
please contact Simon & Schuster Special Sales at 1-866-506-1949
The Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau can bring authors to your live event.
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Designed by Renata Di Biase
Manufactured in the United States of America
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
ISBN 978-1-4516-2430-4
ISBN 978-1-4516-2431-1 (ebook)
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To my darling Sebag, with love
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Acknowledgments
I couldn’t have written this book without the help of two very special
people. Firstly, my husband, Sebag. I knew my story, but I couldn’t work out how to fit all the pieces of my plot together. Sebag paced up and
down the kitchen floor of our cottage while I hugged a mug of tea and
wrote notes. We tossed about ideas as the day melted into evening . . .
and then the plot began to take shape. Finally, as the moon settled high in the sky and the owls began to hoot, we put it to bed—exhausted!
However, there was one problem—good though we thought it was, we
couldn’t work out how to pull off the central twist.
For such a technical problem I needed an expert. I called upon the
experience of my old university friend, Charlie Carr—an investigator.
Thank you, Charlie, for slicing through the Gordian knot—it seems
so simple in retrospect, but all the best plots do! I couldn’t have done it without you.
And thank you, Sebag, for once again being my Sherlock Holmes.
A large part of this story takes place in Tuscany. I lived in Italy in
my early twenties, but that doesn’t prevent me from making terrible
errors. So, I sought the help of my trusty Italian friends. I thank them all: Eduardo Teodorani Fabbri, Stefano Bonfiglio and Sofia Barattieri
di san Pietro.
When I was considering where to set my story, I went to stay with
Olga Polizzi at her enchanting country house hotel, Endsleigh. There
is something magical about Endsleigh. Snuggled deep in the Devon
countryside, it is built above a winding river and sheltered by ancient trees. Olga has flair and warmth so Endsleigh feels more like a home
than a hotel—and I felt right at home there! It was autumn. Giant log
fires filled the rooms with the cozy smell of woodsmoke and clusters of tea lights in purple glass tumblers glowed on every surface. The atmosphere was soft and embracing, and I didn’t want to leave.
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viii
Acknowledgments
So, I have based my hotel, the Polzanze, on Endsleigh, and hope
that I have channeled some of its spirit. I thank Olga for inspiring me because with two small children it’s hard for me to travel, so inspiration is in short supply—I have to rely on memories. But there is nothing as
invigorating as discovering new and wonderful places.
Everything I write comes out of the great big cauldron that contains
all my life’s experiences. If it is rich, it is thanks to my parents, Charles and Patty Palmer-Tomkinson. I couldn’t have written a single word
without their wisdom, guidance, and love.
I want to give special thanks to my agent, Sheila Crowley. Tireless in
her support and always positive, she’s a valuable ally and a good friend.
The team at Curtis Brown are buzzing with energy and enthusiasm,
and I thank them all for the work they do on my behalf.
I am fortunate enough to be published by Simon & Schuster both
sides of the Atlantic. I have two dynamic editors, Suzanne Baboneau
in the U.K. and Trish Todd in the United States. Both steer me in the
right direction and bring out the best that I can give. I’m so grateful for their belief in my writing and their astute and sensitive editing.
I would also like to thank Libby Yevtushenko for working so hard on
the manuscript and improving it with intelligence and tact.
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The
Mermaid
Garden
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Prologue
Tuscany, 1966
The little girl stood outside the imposing black gates of Villa La Mag-
dalena and peered up the drive. A long avenue of cypresses cut straight through the grounds, climaxing at the end in a tantalizing glimpse of a primrose-yellow palazzo. La Magdalena sat with the dignity and poise
of a grand empress. Her tall, shuttered windows were an elegant teal
green, her crown a decorative balustrade built along the top of the fa-
cade, her walls as resplendent as silk; she belonged to a world as en-
chanting and inaccessible as fairy tales.
The bright Tuscan sun threw inky shadows across the drive, and
the little girl could smell the sweet scents of the garden that rose in the midday heat and saturated the air. She stood in her sandals and
grubby sundress, her long brown hair matted with dust and seawater,
hanging down her back and over her eyes, were dark and troubled and
full of craving. Around her neck she wore a Virgin Mary pendant her
mother had given her before running off with a man she had met over
the tomato stall in Piazza Laconda, taking her younger brother with
them.
The little girl came to La Magdalena often. She liked to climb the
wall where a part of it had crumbled, leaving it low enough for her to
scale. She’d sit on the top and survey the beautiful gardens of stone
fountains, graceful umbrella pines, and marble statues of elegant ladies and seminaked men twisted into theatrical poses of love and longing.
She liked to imagine that
she
lived there surrounded by such heavenly splendor—a young lady with expensive dresses and sparkly shoes,
cherished by a mother who threaded her hair with ribbons, and a fa-
ther who indulged her with presents and tossed her into the air before
catching her in his strong, protective arms; she came to La Magdalena
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2
Santa Montefiore
to forget her own drunken father and the little apartment on Via Roma
that she struggled to keep clean.
Her small hands gripped the bars and she squeezed her face between