by Mandy Baggot
‘Oh!’ Becky exclaimed. ‘I didn’t think about Eleni being married.’
‘Because you thought she was my cougar.’
‘Well… Petra did more than me really.’
Elias sighed. ‘They are two very stupid people who choose not to communicate once there has been a breakdown in marital harmony. Instead they pretend not to care about each other, gossip about one another to their friends, then cry at night because they are not together.’
‘I… don’t know what to say.’
‘I know what to say,’ Elias replied, topping up Becky’s wineglass and swatting at a mosquito at the same time. ‘And I have said it to them both. But, as well as stupid, they are both proud and very stubborn. It will take a while for my words to sink into their incredibly thick skins. So, I think I will be here, until that has happened.’
‘You think it will work? That what you have said to them will make them get back together?’
Elias nodded. He was convinced. ‘Oh, yes, there is no doubt about that. It is simply a matter of when.’
‘And that is your professional opinion? As a divorce expert?’
‘It is my professional opinion as their son,’ Elias replied, taking another slice of bread. ‘And, as someone who has been through a marriage that never had any chance of working from the very beginning.’ He looked directly at Becky then, wanting to see the reaction in her eyes.
*
Elias had been married. Did that shock Becky? Not really. She had assumed the letter inked on his chest would stand for something or someone close to his heart. Although Becky had half-hoped it was a sister…even know he’d told her he was an only child. But what was more interesting was that he was telling her about his marriage now. Telling her because he wanted her to know… that he was single? Or that he was still married? Her pulse was beating in her neck as she tried to quell her feelings.
‘I am divorced, Becky,’ he told her. ‘Two years now.’
‘Oh.’ What did she say? The word ‘sorry’ wasn’t appropriate, was it?
‘I have not been back to Liakada since my wife left me because… it was the scandal of the village, the talk of the municipality of Thinali.’ He drank a large mouthful of wine.
‘What happened?’ Becky asked him.
‘What happened,’ Elias repeated, his eyes in the mid-distance.
‘You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to. I mean, if it’s—’
‘No,’ Elias interrupted. ‘I do have to tell you. I have to tell you because I have never actually told anyone else. That is, anyone else, who wasn’t involved in the divorce proceedings.’ He took a breath. ‘Becky, I have never felt able to sit down and tell anyone about it before because I’ve been too embarrassed and too stupid and too wrapped up in other people’s opinions and… life is too short to keep doing that anymore.’ He sniffed. ‘Otherwise, one day, I might be on a plane, in heavy turbulence and get diverted straight into the Alps and never get the chance to… start again.’
She reached for his hand, seeing all kinds of emotions written in his expression. She entwined her fingers in his and held on tight.
‘I’m listening,’ she answered.
Forty-Seven
Kassiopi Castle
Elias felt taller somehow and lighter, definitely so much lighter. Except for his stomach. His stomach was so full and heavy, if the rest of him hadn’t felt quite so elated he might be too weighted down to lead the way from the edge of the harbour up this steep and winding path to the ruins of the fort.
As he had opened up to Becky about Hestia and Thalia and that night in the village when his marriage had ended, all the hurt and anger and sadness came rushing out. In a flood of emotion Elias was trying hard to keep in check, amid the grandmother’s lamb and spaghettada, he had told Becky everything. And all the way through, between mouthfuls of the delicious cuisine, she had held his hand, whispering reassurance, telling him that everything was going to be OK. Somehow, the way she had said it, the way she had looked at him when she had said it, he truly believed her. Was it all going to be OK? Could it really be so?
He squeezed her hand now, slowing their pace a little as the humidity kicked in. It filled his lungs with warm air as the incline hampered any chance of normal, balanced breathing. ‘You are OK?’
‘Gosh, this is like the walk we did in Athens,’ Becky remarked, her sandals slipping a little on the shiny well-worn stones.
‘It is a little like that,’ Elias agreed. ‘Houses on the edge of the pathway, passing almost through people’s back gardens, a small track leading up to the top.’
‘I would never have found this on my own,’ Becky told him.
‘This is one of the most notable ruins on the Ionian islands. It is from the Byzantine period, built to help defend Corfu,’ Elias explained. ‘When we reach the top, you will see the views they had to enable them to see potential invaders.’
‘We are safe now though?’ Becky asked, finally able to stand next to him, a little out of breath.
‘Well,’ Elias said, ‘you will be pleased to know this stretch of water is patrolled by the Greek navy and there is a modern look-out tower not far from here.’
‘Gosh, really? I was only joking. I presumed the only water traffic would be cruise liners. Actually, if Hazel was on board, Corfu ought to be a little afraid. Particularly the men of a certain age.’
‘There’s nothing to be afraid of up here. Only the wildlife. Maybe a few tortoises if we are lucky, or a pine marten in the trees.’
‘I have no idea what that is.’
‘It looks like a fox and a squirrel have mated and then the head of a small bear has been added.’
‘Oh, God, I know exactly what you mean now. Petra and I had one in the house. We called it “bear-thing”.’
Elias laughed. ‘It was in the house?’
‘With cats… and owls… and a flamingo.’
‘Do I need to mention this to my client?’
‘I haven’t mentioned it to Ms O’Neill.’
‘We will keep it a secret in that case.’ He squeezed her hand again. ‘Come. I want to show you the view.’
*
Becky smiled and let him lead on, his strong hand so warm in hers, so right somehow. She had seen the real Elias tonight. There had been no bravado, no cool or aloof, just a gorgeous man baring his soul to her so bravely, so genuinely. She hadn’t just wanted to squeeze his hand and tell him it was OK, she had wanted to put her arms around him and lift some of that hurt from his shoulders. But, she knew, like with her grief over the loss of her father, there was a process. Pain didn’t disappear like magic, it needed time and it needed its own space to build and build, until one day it started to recede and you could own the opportunity to change. And that’s what Elias was doing now and, somehow, she seemed to be becoming a big part of that.
‘The trees are so beautiful here,’ Becky said. ‘They’re so twisted and gnarly and arched, like they’re a natural tunnel almost.’
‘The wind must take the blame for some of that. On Corfu we can have the most terrific winds.’
‘Wow,’ Becky said, stopping still.
A large ancient stone doorway stood ahead of her, steps leading up to it and over where there was another identical doorway in the brickwork. It was like going back in time. She followed him up the steps to stand in the gap.
‘This is mostly what is left of the castle. The main gateway building. There has been restoration. It is better than it ever was but…’
‘But to have anything left at all is… wonderful.’ She put her hand out to touch the stonework, enjoying the coolness on her skin.
‘You are right, Captain Rebecca,’ Elias said. ‘In connection with Kassiopi Castle and with life. To have anything left at all is wonderful.’
She felt him tighten his grip on her hand then and pull her a little closer towards him. It sounded so clichéd that there had been something between them from their very first meeting in Row 18, but somehow there had. Despite a
ll the telling him she was in the army and him saying he sold houses, there had always been a spark of something. And despite everything that had happened in such a short space of time, those moments had led them here.
‘Becky,’ he whispered and her name on his lips sent a shiver running down the length of her spine where the feeling began spiralling like a firework around her coccyx. Should she say something? What did she want to say to him? That she was definitely considering binning How to Find the Love of Your Life or Die Trying? Not that he was the love of her life because, well, she hadn’t exactly had a life yet…
No, Becky didn’t want to say anything. She only wanted to look. Gaze at him, this spectacularly gorgeous Greek vision she only felt more drawn to now he had opened up to her. She wanted nothing more than to inch herself forward a little, beneath this dark blanket of sky perforated only by the constellations of a thousand twinkling stars and the moon. She thought back to Petra’s story about the moon being made up of the souls of people who had passed. Was her father watching her now? Proud that she was standing on Greek soil, having an adventure of a lifetime? She looked at Elias again, wanting to bring back those memories of him holding her close on the makeshift dancefloor in Kefalonia but something was stopping her…
‘Wait,’ she said, putting a hand to his shoulder as he leaned towards her. Instantly he shifted back and she swallowed, internally cursing herself for breaking the moment.
‘Did I do something wrong?’ Elias asked, eyelashes blinking over those azure eyes.
‘Not now,’ Becky breathed, still touching his shoulder. She could feel the heat of his skin beneath his shirt and she left her fingers there, tracing the outline of the tattoo she knew lay underneath. ‘But in Kefalonia.’
She saw his body visibly sag. Was she being stupid? Too cautious?
‘It’s Petra, isn’t it?’ Elias stated with a sigh.
‘I thought… when we danced that we… connected somehow but then…’
‘We did connect, Becky,’ he said immediately. He reached out, touching her hair.
Another fizzy moment ensued, like champagne was running through her veins. With every gentle motion of his fingers her heart came alive a little bit more.
‘But it scared me,’ Elias continued. ‘It scared me how much I felt when you were in my arms and I… didn’t want to get it wrong. I know we had not known each other long but I did not want to mess it up or to… hurt you. I particularly did not want to hurt you.’
‘I’m not that fragile,’ Becky whispered, leaning into his hand a little, listening to the faint sea sounds from below them. ‘I’ve survived many things now… turbulence and… narrow caves and… octopuses coming at me from the water.’
Elias smiled for a second and then the look faded. ‘Petra… she landed on me and for the briefest of moments I did kiss her back.’ He sighed again. ‘But the truth is… my eyes were closed and in my mind… and in my heart I… was still on that dancefloor with you. And I know how that makes me sound but… as soon as I really realised what was happening, as soon as I knew how very stupid I was being…’ He placed his hand on hers, still firm against his shoulder. ‘There are no words, I know. I deserve to be thrown aside for being so weak and running away from you and…’
Becky reached up, fingers shaking, and palmed his face, holding that strong jawline in her hand, just the merest hint of stubble on his skin.
He breathed out, long and slow, as if in response to her touch. ‘I feel for you, Captain Rebecca. I feel only for you.’
She let his statement settle on her subconscious. She wanted to believe him. She really wanted to allow herself to believe him. Because the way she was feeling now wasn’t commonplace in her life. This wasn’t a date with Angus from the sausage shop. This wasn’t appreciating the visual appeal of Kelvin Fletcher on Strictly. This was real. And this was close. And this was happening if she wanted it to…
Becky moved her hand, pressing it to Elias’s chest until she felt the thrum of his heartbeat pulsing against it. She wasn’t waiting the required number of seconds that Hazel’s book had suggested. She wasn’t going to wait any longer at all. With the olive trees surrounding them, those ancient walls the only barrier to the harbour, the water and the twinkling lights of Albania beyond, Becky drew Elias towards her, connecting their lips with a passion she had forgotten she owned.
And it was heavenly. She was in sole charge of this moment and she knew exactly what she wanted. Him. Elias. Doing unspeakable things to her for days.
He tasted of life’s sunniest moments, of lemon and bread and somehow seaside, and as his tongue danced with hers, slow then fast then teasing, Becky found herself tight to his body, enjoying every inch of that taut physique up close and very personal.
‘Becky,’ he breathed, separating them for a second.
‘You’re not going to run away again, are you?’ she asked, looking up at him, eyes moist with anticipation of hopefully more kisses to come.
‘No, not at all,’ he answered. ‘I just… want you to be sure this is what you want.’
‘I am sure,’ Becky answered positively. ‘This is what I want. Even if it means I die from the trying at some point.’ She smiled. ‘I mean…what a way to go.’
Elias smiled too and, with the history of more than a thousand nights around them, a very full moon the only illumination, Becky pulled him back to her and connected their lips again.
Forty-Eight
Kerasia Beach
‘Tell me more about your father,’ Elias said. ‘He sounds like someone who has shaped your life so much.’ He wrapped his arms around Becky, drawing her back into his body.
They were sitting on the white stones of Kerasia Beach, having walked through the garden of Villa Selino to the shore. It was still warm, possibly somewhere in the twenties, with definitely no need for a jacket or a wrap. The beach was deserted, the water gently shushing onto the pebbles. Becky felt content here. Sitting close to the sea, in the arms of this intriguing man she was finally getting to know more completely. It was like the best experimental sandwich she’d ever concocted.
After their visit to Kassiopi, Elias had driven them back here and neither of them had wanted the evening to end. It was edging towards 1 a.m. now and before she and Elias had made their way down to the ocean, Becky had popped her head around Petra’s bedroom door. Thankfully Petra was home and alone. Still clothed, one leg out of the light cover, hair still immaculately pinned up, the young woman was clutching hold of a well-worn teddy bear. On first glance she might have been ten years old…
‘My dad was inspirational to me,’ Becky replied without hesitation. ‘But in the quietest of ways. That’s who he was. Unassuming, shy almost, and very softly spoken.’ She paused, remembering. ‘He never said anything unless it was worth saying. Everything he put into words… it meant something.’ She turned her head a little, looking up at Elias. ‘Does that sound weird?’
‘No,’ he answered. ‘Communication is everything, I truly believe that. But that does not mean that you should talk for the sake of filling spaces. Sometimes a silence can say as much as a hundred words.’
He was so right. She sat quietly now and listened. The cicadas were chirruping from the eucalyptus trees at the edge of the beach, the fenders of boats nudged at the wooden dock, squeaking slightly, the ocean lapped and splashed.
‘I did not mean for us to stop talking,’ Elias told her. A light rumble of a laugh moved from inside him then hit the night air. Becky laughed too as he tightened his hug around her.
‘My sister and I stopped talking productively a long time ago. Before what happened with Dean and after our dad died and our mum moved away.’ Becky sighed. ‘I guess that’s as much my fault as it is hers. I think, when Mum decided to move, it hurt Megan. Whereas I saw it simply as my mum making a new start and wanting something different, you know, getting over having to look after someone who needed a lot of care. Megan, I think, saw it as a kind of abandonment. Not that she would say. And
I did try. I always tried. But when it’s only one person trying it gets exhausting.’
‘Sometimes,’ Elias began, ‘it is too hard to talk.’ She felt him take a breath. ‘And sometimes, everyone tries to do the talking for you and… you are simply not ready.’
‘Is that how you’ve felt?’ Becky asked. ‘About Hestia?’
‘We were talking about your father,’ Elias reminded.
*
He may have made this huge step tonight by telling Becky about what had happened with his ex-wife, but it still felt incredibly raw.
‘Have you seen Hestia at all since you divorced?’
‘No,’ he said quickly.
‘Do her parents live in Liakada too?’
‘No,’ he answered. ‘But they do not live far away. In Episkepsi. It is a village not far from here.’
He couldn’t imagine seeing Hestia’s parents now any more than he could have imagined seeing them two years ago. What was there to say? What purpose would it serve? But he would like to think, if he saw them in passing, that he would say kalimera. And if he saw Hestia again? Would he say something? And, if so, what?
‘Hestia… she emailed me, after the divorce was finalised.’ He took a deep breath wriggling a little on the stones but not letting go of Becky.
‘What did she say?’
‘I did not read it. Not at first. Back then I saw her name and all kinds of feelings came out of me, and none of them were good. But, a few months after, when I was clearing my inbox, I saw that email again and, for some reason, I clicked on it.’
He remembered how it had felt to read the words. It had been Hestia reaching out, the Hestia he had met and fallen for, but more honest and a lot braver.
‘She apologised to me, more times than anyone really deserved to be apologised to, given the circumstances. And, in parts, she was saying sorry for being true to herself because, if you break everything down, that was the only thing she did. She was putting an end to a life she had never wanted and starting something she should always have followed. Yes, she hurt me, but she had also hurt herself every single day by pretending to be someone she was not.’