‘Wow, you’re good,’ Penelope deadpanned. ‘Toby never remembers mine, even after five years.’
‘Nonsense!’ Toby had turned an unflattering shade of puce.
‘It’s easy to remember, because it was the day we first met,’ Rupert told them as he passed round the salt.
Holly flushed with pleasure and smiled across at him. She couldn’t believe they’d been together for almost a year – a whole twelve months and she hadn’t done anything to screw it up.
Clemmie sniffed at her first tequila and pulled a face. With her blonde hair set in curls around her face, she looked like an angry Cupid.
Boris put an arm around his girlfriend’s shoulders and rubbed his nose against her cheek. Holly had never seen Clemmie be particularly affectionate towards Boris, but that didn’t seem to deter him in the slightest. She and Rupert weren’t really known for their PDAs either, but he did get touchy-feely after a few drinks.
Aliana hadn’t waited for the others and was now chewing on a slice of lemon, her eyes watering with the effort. Catching Rupert’s eye across the table and winking, Holly lifted her glass. ‘Cheers!’
After another three tequilas, two large glasses of white wine and just a handful of olives for dinner, Holly was somewhat bewildered to find herself sitting in a locked cubicle in the ladies’ toilet with the two letters spread across her lap. This wasn’t what was supposed to have happened: the alcohol was supposed to have distracted her, taken her mind off the unwelcome revelations. In reality, all it had done was strip away her remaining vestiges of self-control and propel her – via the edges of several tables on the way – in here away from the prying eyes of her friends.
She wasn’t ready to absorb these letters herself, let alone try to explain them to Rupert. Leaving the personal one safely folded, Holly took out the typed letter for the second time and gave in to the need that had been burning a hole in her brain all day long.
Dear Miss Wright,
I am writing to you from the offices of Olympus Solicitors in Zakynthos. My client, a Miss Sandra Wright, instructed me to forward you the enclosed in the event of her death. I am sorry to inform you now that she has passed away.
Holly searched inside herself for an emotion, but there was nothing but numbness. This Sandra woman shared her name, had apparently been her relative – but she wasn’t someone Holly had ever met. She continued reading.
Miss Wright assured us that everything you need to know is included in her letter to you, but we are at liberty to inform you that her house here in Zakynthos, along with its contents, now belongs to you. If you have any further questions, please do not hesitate to contact us.
We are sorry again for your loss.
Kind regards,
Takis Boulos
A house? Her own house? Presumably the one that was in the photo – the very same house that her mother had kept an ornament of her whole life, which Holly had seen so many times as she grew up. She’d just unfolded the other letter, the one from Sandra herself, when there was a loud bang on the door.
‘Holly, are you in there?’
She could see the pointy toes of Aliana’s patent heels under the bottom of the door.
‘Won’t be a minute,’ she replied, grumbling to herself as she stuffed away the letters and needlessly yanked the flush.
‘You’ve been gone ages.’ Aliana’s tone was accusatory as she watched Holly cross to the bank of basins.
‘I just had a funny turn,’ she lied. ‘Probably the tequila.’
Aliana joined her and took out her lipstick.
‘Clemmie is so sweet,’ she said, trying to meet Holly’s eyes in the mirror. ‘She said I should come out with you all next month, you know, for your birthday.’
Holly was already sick of her birthday and it was over a month away. What she really wanted was a quiet night in with Rupert, or maybe dinner in the local pub. Just something simple. But she knew Rupert would use it as an excuse to throw a big party, and there wasn’t much point trying to dissuade him once he’d got the bit between his teeth.
‘You should,’ she said simply, drowning out Aliana’s reply by sticking her hands under the dryer. She was suddenly hit by a wave of exhaustion. When she had managed to fall asleep the previous night, it had only been for a few hours before the alarm went off. There were dark circles forming under her eyes and she’d long ago rubbed off her mascara.
‘You look awful,’ Aliana told her, apparently reading her mind.
Holly managed a sheepish smile. ‘Thanks. Who needs enemies with friends like you?’
Both girls giggled and the tension eased. Aliana was clearly very drunk. There was a glazed look in her eyes and a spot of colour high on each cheek. Like Holly, she was olive-skinned and her hair was dark. But unlike Holly’s natural curls, Aliana’s hair was so straight that it looked like she ironed it every morning. It also hung much further down her back, and she’d boasted several times that she’d been able to sit on it as a child. Petite and with just the right amount of curves, Aliana had the sort of figure that turned the heads of both men and women, but she was endearingly unaware of the effect she could have. In the three years that Holly had known her, she’d only ever dated utterly vile men – a fact that everyone who knew her found baffling. Outwardly, she exuded the sort of natural confidence that Holly could only play-act, but she suspected that her friend wasn’t quite as together as she liked to make out. Either that, or she simply had the worst taste in men ever.
Standing there in the bathroom, Holly found herself unexpectedly overcome with affection for Aliana, and uncharacteristically linked an arm through hers as they made their way back to the table. The clock on the wall was edging close to 11 p.m., but that wasn’t enough to deter Rupert.
‘Another bottle, ladies?’ he asked, lifting the empty one out of the ice bucket. Holly sighed. ‘Oh, go on then.’
4
‘Darling, wake up.’
Holly groaned. The second bottle of wine had been a very bad idea.
‘Come on, Hols, there’s something we need to talk about.’
She opened her eyes to see the blurry outline of Rupert, bending over her with what she could smell was a cup of coffee in his hand. Her stomach lurched in protest.
‘I’m up.’ She forced out a smile and inched backwards into a sitting position. It was only then that she saw the look on his face. ‘What’s the matter?’
Looking slightly guilty, Rupert put his hand into the pocket of his dressing gown and produced the envelope that she’d last seen crumpled in the bottom of her bag.
There was a horrible silence.
‘I was going to tell you about it,’ she said, not meeting his eyes. ‘I just didn’t want everyone to know, that’s all.’
Rupert pulled a face that made him resemble a wounded baby seal. Holly, feeling her irritation begin to prickle, took a deep breath. ‘I really was going to tell you,’ she repeated.
‘So tell me.’ Rupert was now sitting on the edge of the bed, his weight trapping her inside the duvet. Holly could feel agitation building inside her as he sipped his coffee and waited. She knew she was being ridiculous. After all, this was her dear, sweet Rupert – all he wanted was for her to be honest. It was just that when it came to her family history, she had spun such a tapestry of fantasy she was afraid that pulling at any of the threads would unravel the perfect image she’d created so carefully.
‘It turns out that I had an aunt,’ she managed. ‘One that I had never met.’ She assumed Rupert would interrupt her and ask why, but he didn’t. She continued, ‘This aunt, she lived in a place called Zakynthos, which is apparently a Greek island. And, well, she’s left me her house there.’
Rupert raised an eyebrow.
‘So, I guess I’m a home owner now.’ She tried a laugh, but it came out more like a rasping cough. Rupert flinched and put down his mug.
‘So, that’s all it is? The big secret you couldn’t tell the gang last night?’
Holly for
ced a smile to hide her irritation at his use of the word ‘gang’. She really wanted to get up, but the uneasiness between them was making her feel uncomfortable at the idea of him seeing her naked. They’d had drunk, clumsy sex after getting back to his flat last night, and Holly could see her discarded knickers crumpled on the floor by the doorway.
‘It was a bit of a shock, that’s all,’ she told him. ‘I wasn’t really ready to tell anyone except you.’
She’d meant this to sound like a compliment, and it seemed to do the trick. Rupert’s expression thawed a little and he moved closer to her, taking one of her hands in both of his.
‘I understand, Hols. It’s no big deal that you didn’t tell me, but it is a big deal that you got a house. What a shame that the Greek economy has been so unstable lately. It might be ages before you can get a good price for it.’
Holly, who had been about to take a sip of her own, rapidly cooling coffee, almost choked. Not once had it even occurred to her that she might sell the house, the one thing she had left of her real family – even if that family had chosen not to make contact before it was too late.
‘I thought I’d fly over there,’ she told him now. She hadn’t even realised that was her plan until she said it out loud, but there it was. ‘I need to go over to Zakynthos, to take a look. I’d like to see the house.’
‘I can’t take any time off at the moment.’ Rupert was frowning at her. ‘I have a deal coming up that needs to be handled with a lot of sensitivity.’
‘I could just go on my own?’ It came out as an almost whisper. The thought of turning up to poke around her dead aunt’s house with Rupert in tow made her feel even sicker than the idea of facing it alone. What if there was something incriminating in there about her mum? Or what if her aunt had been one of those weird hoarders and had lived underneath teetering stacks of decade-old newspapers and unmentionable filth? She pulled the duvet up to her chin.
‘Well, only if you’re sure …’ Rupert squeezed her hand again. ‘I really want to be there for you. Are you sure it can’t wait a month or so?’
Holly shook her head.
‘Well, okay then.’ Rupert finally stood up. ‘I’m off to hit the shower. You’d better get a wriggle on too. I left the paracetamol on the breakfast bar.’
She waited until the bathroom door was shut before scuttling over to the door, scooping up her knickers from the floor and shoving them into her bag. There was a pile of clean towels in the hallway, and Holly wrapped one around herself as she made her way into the kitchen.
Rupert was so perfect in some ways, she thought, helping herself to a couple of the painkillers that he’d so thoughtfully left out. But then he could be an idiot as well. Did he not see that the big news was not that an aunt had left her a house, but that she had an aunt at all?
She filled the kettle and opened the fridge door, then shut it again and sat down on one of Rupert’s uncomfortable chrome bar stools. It took her a few minutes to realise that she was angry. She’d been so shocked to be confronted by Rupert that she hadn’t taken time to consider the fact that he’d been snooping through her bag. To Holly, privacy was the most sacred thing in the world. She couldn’t believe that Rupert had so openly abused her trust like this. Everything in her gut was telling her to march into the bathroom and yell at him, but that was what the old Holly would have done. She’d left that Holly behind a long time ago. If Rupert were to see the real her, she wouldn’t have to worry about him looking in her bag any more, because he most likely wouldn’t be in her life any more, simple as that. If he thought that rifling through her stuff was acceptable, then it was probably her own fault. She let him take charge in every other aspect of their relationship, so why would he think this was any different?
Filling a glass with water from the tap, Holly forced herself to gulp it down and take a series of long, deep breaths. The red mist cleared, and reason stepped in. He was probably just looking for painkillers and came across the envelope by accident. She’d been drunk when they got in – maybe she’d knocked the bag over and the letters fell out? He was just trying to be nice and put them back, when curiosity got the better of him.
She realised she was gritting her teeth when Rupert appeared behind her, his chest wet from the shower, and kissed her lightly on the cheek.
‘I’ve got to have dinner with the folks tonight,’ he said, all talk of her aunt and the house in Greece apparently forgotten. ‘My brother’s over from Dubai and they want to treat us.’
‘That sounds nice.’ Holly was amazed that it didn’t come out as a growl. She was still only wearing a towel.
‘I’d invite you,’ he added, rubbing his legs dry then moving the towel up to his hair. ‘But I think it’s just a family thing.’
Holly had only been introduced to Mr and Mrs Farlington-Clark once in the year that she’d known Rupert and it hadn’t gone well. They’d met for lunch at a French restaurant on the Strand and Holly had somehow managed to flick her snail entrée across the table and down the front of Rupert’s mum’s silk blouse. She wasn’t surprised not to be invited out for round two.
‘That’s okay.’ She stepped around him and headed towards the bathroom. ‘I should book some flights anyway.’
‘You want to go to Greece? In a week’s time?’
Holly forced her legs not to tremble under the weight of Fiona’s scowl. She’d clearly been out drinking the night before as well, because she was in an even worse mood than usual.
‘It’s a family matter,’ Holly told her. That’s what people said in these situations, wasn’t it?
Fiona glared at her for what felt like a full ten minutes, before finally nodding with irritation. ‘Fine,’ she snapped. ‘Log your holiday request on the system and I’ll approve it. But in future, do try to give me a bit more warning.’
Holly nodded as she inched backwards across the horrible beige carpet, promising to leave an extremely detailed list of dos and don’ts for her temporary replacement. Despite the frostiness she’d just created between herself and her boss, she felt elated. It felt good getting her own way, even on a small thing like this.
Aliana, who was still at the blessed stage of her mid-twenties where hangovers could be cured with a single pint of water and three hours’ sleep, had bounced into work that morning like a chirpy little imp. She was predictably over the moon when Holly filled her in on the reason for her meeting with Fiona.
‘A house in Greece? That’s bloody amazing!’
Holly smiled. ‘I suppose it is.’
‘Which island did you say it was again?’ Aliana was poised with her hands over her keyboard.
‘Zakynthos,’ Holly told her. ‘I think it’s an Ionian isla—’
‘You mean Zante?’ Aliana actually shrieked the last word. Dave with the hairy ears from the ads department, who happened to be passing at that moment, almost spilled his tea in fright. ‘Zante is, like, one of the biggest party islands in Greece,’ she babbled. ‘I went there the year I finished uni – it was absolutely crazy!’
‘Are you sure?’ Holly pulled a face. That didn’t sound like a place where an old lady would choose to live. Perhaps her aunt had been a crazy party animal? She grinned at the thought of a doddery old dear in a floral smock throwing some shapes on the dance floor – but then who said she’d been old? Holly’s smile drooped like a sad dandelion as she remembered that her mum had only been thirty-eight when she died. Her aunt could have been the younger sister.
As she waited for Aliana to look up photos of the resort she’d stayed in, Holly wondered for the first time how her aunt had died. There was no mention of that in the letter at all, although she’d clearly known it was going to happen.
‘Here it is!’ Aliana spun round in her chair. ‘Laganas is the best resort. There’s a road which is just bars, clubs and restaurants, then a beach at the bottom.’
Holly got up and peered at the photos on Aliana’s screen. The beach looked narrow and dirty and she curled up her nose. ‘I don’t
think that’s where the house is,’ she said. ‘Hang on, I’ve got the address in my bag.’
‘I wish I could come with you,’ Aliana was saying now, as she dreamily flicked through snap after snap of unblemished skies and lush green mountains. ‘But Fiona would never let us be off at the same time.’
Holly ignored her. ‘Here it is – look up Lithakia.’
Aliana typed it in obediently, stumbling over the spelling, and both girls cooed as photos flicked up of a golden beach, clear blue water and a cloudless sky. That was more like it, Holly thought, as more images appeared showing whitewashed stone buildings with tiled terracotta roofs, pots overflowing with brightly coloured flowers and acres of olive groves. Aliana giggled as she came across a photo of an ancient-looking lady with wispy white hair. She was wearing a long black dress and clutching the halter of a decidedly dog-eared donkey.
‘That could be you in a few years,’ she told Holly, ducking out of the way to avoid the resulting indignant swipe.
‘Oi!’ Holly scolded. ‘I’m going there for a fortnight, not forty-five years!’
‘Do you tan well?’ Aliana asked. ‘I bet you do.’
‘I’m not actually sure,’ Holly told her honestly. ‘I don’t remember ever going on holiday abroad as a kid, and the only time I’ve been away with Rupert, we’ve either been skiing or on a city break. Plus, it’s never sunny here, is it?’
‘Tell me about it.’ Aliana stretched out her slender arms and groaned. ‘I’m paler than the moon in an old Western.’
‘Poetic.’ Holly grinned at her.
‘What will Rupert do while you’re gone?’ Aliana asked now, her eyes on her screen. ‘He won’t know what to do with himself, the poor boy’s so smitten.’
‘He said he’s going to be really busy at work.’
They both looked up as Holly’s mobile started vibrating across the desk. A photo of Rupert, grinning and wearing ski goggles on the top of his head, filled the screen.
‘Hi, babe,’ she whispered, bending over in her chair as Fiona’s office door opened. ‘I can’t really talk …’
My Map of You Page 3