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The heroine with a secret

The heroine with a secret

The heroine with a secret

In my latest novel, Concerto, the heroine, Catriona, has built a good life for herself. She is a partner in a psychologists’ practice and has a reputation as an excellent music therapist. She lives in a beautiful home on the coast near Nice. She is a single mother and is raising her son, Michael, in love.

But the safe little world she has constructed is threatened when she is induced to travel to Lake Como to take on a new client – Umberto Monteverdi, a pianist composer who has lost his sight, a musical virtuoso, a passionate man struggling with despair following his accident.

And, unbeknownst to him, the father of Catriona’s child.

Since their night of passion years before, Catriona has had no contact with Umberto. By the time she discovered she was pregnant, he was long gone – away in America working to further his career. Catriona did try to reconnect with him once, when Michael was four years old. She felt then that her feelings for Umberto had finally died a death, and that it was only fair that he should know about his son. He was at the top of his career and giving a concert in Paris, so she travelled there. But he was with another woman, and Catriona realised as soon as she saw him that she still loved him. She slipped away, unnoticed. Two weeks later, she read that Umberto had had a terrible car accident that blinded him. She wanted to go to him, but, she tells a friend, ‘I simply couldn’t. I needed to protect the life I’d built for myself with Michael.’

When Catriona arrives in Lake Como years later, she still feels this strong need to protect her son and the life she has built from Umberto, and so she keeps the truth a secret. She does not tell him who she is. She does not tell him that her son is his son. She lies and tells Umberto that she is a widow.

But she has not reckoned on Umberto being so sensitive and astute. He may not be able to see any longer, but he can pick up so much about people from their voices and their words. He tells her:

‘Now that I’m blind, I must rely on other senses to get by. I can usually gauge a person’s sincerity. You’re difficult because you don’t say very much and I can’t really rely on your voice to give away your emotion. You are quite secretive…’

As Catriona and Umberto spend more time together, Catriona finds it harder to maintain her deception. She wants to be honest, but the stakes are so high: she must protect her son, and her own bruised heart.

Catriona can continue to guard her secret and the life she has built – in which neither her own mother nor Michael know the truth of his parentage. But she is fooling herself that such a truth can remain buried. As the Greek playwright Sophocles wrote, Do nothing secretly; for Time sees and hears all things, and discloses all.

Secrets are burdens, and while the truth can be painful, it can also be liberating and healing. Can Catriona finally stop protecting her heart and her family so carefully and take a bold step – for love?

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