‘Not from here.’ He shook his head. ‘You can only get on to the beach by boat, and even then it’s only really possible on a day when the sea is calm. As you can see, everyone is taking advantage of that fact today.’
‘It’s stunning,’ Holly breathed. ‘The water doesn’t even look real – it’s as if someone’s poured turquoise paint over the side of one of those boats.’
‘My mum used to say the same thing,’ Aidan smiled. ‘She painted up here, of course. It was her who first brought me to this very spot.’
Picnics with his ex-girlfriend, painting trips with his mum – Aidan clearly had a lot of memories associated with this place. And now she did too, thanks to him. Well, she corrected herself, it was actually more to do with Jenny and Sandra. They’d marked this place on their own map, after all. Sandra must have meant for her to spot it and find her way up here. Knowing that she was staring down at a view that her mum must have gazed at made Holly’s eyes suddenly fill up with tears. The fact that it was so beautiful here only seemed to make the whole situation more tragic. She wished she’d been able to come here with Jenny, perhaps on one of the adventures that her mum had always promised her they would go on together. She was very glad that she’d come here today, but she was also overwhelmed with a pang of loneliness. She wondered if Aidan, who had fallen silent behind her as he too gazed down at the spellbinding vista below, was thinking the same thing.
Without fully realising what she was doing, Holly leaned back a fraction so that the back of her head was resting against his chest. She needed the comfort from him as much as she could sense he craved it from her, and for a few minutes they stood without moving. Holly could just about make out the sound of the distant sea and a light murmur of chatter filtering over from the car park. She could have happily stayed there all day, but before long another group of sweaty-looking tourists filed over, and Aidan slowly led her away.
Phelan, who had been waiting patiently in a nearby patch of shade, greeted them with a shower of drool and promptly rolled over on to his back so that Holly could tickle his belly.
‘I think you’ve made a friend there,’ Aidan laughed, borrowing Holly’s phone to take a photo. He had slipped back into his easy, jokey manner, their shared moment on the platform now seemingly forgotten, and Holly was grateful to him. There was a feeling starting to bubble in the pit of her own belly that she definitely didn’t feel ready to deal with. If only she could roll over on to her back like Phelan and get someone to rub it away.
After leaving Navagio, Aidan drove Holly east across the island to an area called Mikro Nissi. The tiny coastal village boasted a beautiful pebbled beach and a handful of bars, all of which looked out across the water. Jenny and Sandra had illustrated this particular area with a series of wonky drawings of what looked like pints of beer, alongside some very unseaworthy-looking boats.
Holly, who was dusty from the long drive and keen to put a bit of safe distance between herself and Aidan, took her towel straight across the stones and made her way into the clear, calm water. Phelan sat guarding her bag, while Aidan crossed the pebbles and started chatting to a man who was unravelling a mess of fishing nets by the shore. His boat, Holly could see, was called Maria.
She felt like she was beginning to understand Sandra more with every hour that she spent on this island, but this was only serving to make her more upset about the fact that they’d never met. It had crossed her mind to ask Aidan if he knew what had caused the rift between Sandra and her mum, but surely he would have told her already if he did? He’d shown himself to be pretty direct up until now, so she didn’t think he’d be the sort to keep anything hidden.
It had shaken her up to hear him talk about his difficult relationship with his mum so openly. In a way she was envious that he could be so matter-of-fact about it all, but in another way that level of openness frightened her. She’d spent so many years hiding behind the alternative past she’d created for herself that to pull those walls down now seemed like the most unnatural – not to mention downright terrifying – idea in the world. Despite this, though, she had found herself on the verge of telling Aidan how she felt about her mother several times already. What was it about him that made her so keen to share? And it wouldn’t be very fair on Rupert if you did, whispered a voice inside her. Surely he should be the one she opened up to, but would she ever be able to be honest with him about who she really was? As she pondered this, Holly stared down at her toes beneath the water. A tiny fish had swum over to investigate and was now nibbling at the hard skin on her heel. People would pay a fortune for a fish pedicure in London, she thought. And here I am, in this beautiful, tranquil place, getting one absolutely free.
She distracted herself by looking at all the little boats bobbing gently in the harbour next to the beach. They were a mixture of shapes, sizes, colours and stages of disrepair, and Holly wondered if her mum and Sandra had ever been out on one. There had to be a reason why they’d drawn boats all over this part of the map. Perhaps Aidan knew someone who could take them out on the water. Holly had never been on a boat before, not a proper one, anyway. She was pretty sure that the punting trip she and Rupert had taken down the river on a day trip to Cambridge didn’t count – it certainly wasn’t as exciting as being out on the ocean.
Rolling over on to her stomach in the shallows, she watched Phelan pad over to where the nearest fishing boat was providing an arc of shade. Aidan was still chatting to the fisherman, who had his back to Holly, but every so often the two men would glance over in her direction. The man was bearded and looked faintly familiar, but that was probably just because every Greek man of a certain age seemed to have the same facial hair. This man had a tatty bum bag strapped around his waist and was wearing a shirt that had definitely seen better days. Fashion certainly wasn’t something the folk here seemed to worry about much, Holly thought, and, despite her job at Flash, she kind of admired it. Other things were presumably more important over here, such as work and family and simply enjoying life. And it would be hard not to enjoy life here, after all.
‘Holly!’
It was Aidan. She looked up and watched as he made his way down the beach, guiltily aware that she was enjoying the way the light breeze was making his T-shirt ripple across his chest. He picked up her towel and held it up politely as she stumbled out across the stones. It was impossible to look ladylike when your feet were being bruised with every step.
‘Ready for a cold beer yet?’ he asked, not bothering to avert his eyes at all as she started to dry herself.
‘Yes, please,’ she said, thinking again of the scribbled pint glasses on the map. She smiled at him, squinting slightly as the sun slipped out from behind his ear.
Taking her hand as if it was the most natural thing in the world, Aidan led her up the beach and straight across the road into a bar. Holly had put her cropped jeans and vest back on, but her wet bikini had left a big stain on her bottom and on the front of each boob.
‘Just take it off?’ suggested Aidan, eyeing her chest with a knowing look that could only be described as decidedly suggestive. There it was again, that electricity fizzing between them. Holly slapped his arm in mock outrage. The sun had dried the salt water on her face and she could feel her skin tightening as she sipped her Mythos. She’d slipped off her shoes so that her bare feet could dangle down from the bar stools where they sat. She felt clean and free and delicious.
‘Are you really going to sell the house?’
Aidan had failed to keep the pleading tone from his voice and Holly let out a deep sigh before she replied.
‘I think it’s for the best,’ she said, refusing to meet his eyes. ‘I feel weird having it at all, to be honest. Like I said to you before, I never even met Sandra.’
‘But she clearly wanted you to have it,’ he insisted. ‘And she was your auntie, regardless of whether you met her or not.’
He was right, of course, but before she came out here Holly had made a promise to herself – and to Rup
ert – that she would pack the house up and sell it. She had spent her whole life trying to move forward, and being here felt a bit like she was being dragged back into the past by the ankles. At this stage, she still wasn’t sure whether to grab hold of something sturdy until whatever it was went away, or whether to just let herself be taken.
‘It’s complicated,’ she said, trying to convey in two words all the things she couldn’t explain. ‘My life is in London – I don’t need a house in Greece.’
‘That’s the maddest thing I’ve ever heard!’ Aidan actually slapped his thigh. ‘Anyone else in the world would be overjoyed to be given a house in a place like this.’
‘I’m not like everyone else.’
The electricity that had been crackling between them was still there, but it had rapidly gone from flirty to twitchy. Aidan seemed to sense the change in mood and paused for a moment, taking a sip of his beer and glaring at her in bemusement.
‘Listen, I’m sorry,’ he said eventually. ‘It’s really none of my business what you do with your own house.’
‘Thank you.’ Holly was relieved.
‘I just know how much Sandra wanted you to have it,’ he continued.
Exasperated, Holly took an aggressive slug of beer and ended up pouring most of it down the front of her top. Why was Aidan trying to make her feel guilty? Did he not realise how difficult it already was for her?
‘What did she say to you about me?’ If Aidan was going to play this game, then she may as well make him squirm a bit too.
‘Not a lot, you know, just that you were all she had left and stuff.’ He was definitely looking a bit shifty now, Holly decided.
‘She must have said more than that,’ she pushed. ‘Come on …’
‘Another beer?’ Aidan raised a hand in the direction of the bar.
‘Oi, stop changing the subject.’ Holly was starting to feel indignant now and had to take a deep breath to curb the slight swell of anger that had risen up in her chest. Aidan responded by giving her such a lazy smile that she found she couldn’t help but smile back. Bloody hell, he really was so infuriating.
The waiter who brought over their drinks – another beer for Holly and a bottle of water for Aidan – looked at least eighty. His gnarled hands were trembling with the effort of holding the tray and there were large liver spots on his cheeks. He was wearing a worn black vest, the neckline of which was decorated with a mass of wiry grey chest hair, and his feet were bare.
Aidan thanked him for the drinks and then motioned to Holly. ‘This is Yiorgos,’ he told her. ‘He knew your Aunt Sandra.’
Yiorgos lifted his stooped neck and peered at Holly like a friendly vulture, his eyes brightening slightly. They were a brilliant, clear blue, and she was reminded of the sea down at Porto Limnionas. Turning back to Aidan, he began gabbling away in Greek, pausing every now and then to let him translate.
‘He says that your aunt was very beautiful, but that you are even more beautiful,’ Aidan told her. ‘She made a wedding dress for his granddaughter, ten years ago, and it was the happiest day of her life.’
Holly felt a swell of pride and beamed across at Yiorgos.
‘He wants to know if you’re married,’ Aidan added. Holly shook her head.
The old man then said something to Aidan and both men laughed, but whatever it was apparently didn’t warrant translation. They sat for a further ten minutes, while Yiorgos told them stories about Sandra. He had known her since she first came to the island with her parents, and they became friends again when she moved back after they died. He remembered Holly’s mum too, and was keen to point out how nice but naughty she had been. When Holly told Aidan to tell him that her mum had died, he looked genuinely upset, and reached across the table to grasp her hand.
‘Your mum must have been some woman,’ Aidan said, after Yiorgos had kissed them both on the cheek and shuffled back inside the bar.
‘Oh, she was certainly that,’ Holly replied, not bothering to keep the disdain from her voice.
‘You never told me how she died,’ Aidan said carefully.
‘Car crash,’ Holly replied immediately. It was such a well-weathered lie now, and anyway, the truth was just too depressing.
Aidan remained silent for a few seconds, then pointed at her empty beer bottle. ‘One for the road?’
Holly knew that he had her pegged. He could tell that she was lying just as clearly as he could see that the sky was blue, but she was grateful that he had chosen not to push her on the subject. She couldn’t help but feel a little bit guilty. After all, he’d been totally honest about his own mother, but she just wasn’t ready.
For years now the truth had remained buried. She didn’t even know how she’d begin to say the words, let alone what her emotional reaction would be. Aidan already thought she was crazy, and, the pernicious voice whispered in her ear, you don’t want to risk scaring him away, do you?
Aidan was quiet as they drove back towards Lithakia. He seemed lost in his own thoughts and Holly never had been one for small talk. Instead, she watched as the landscape swept by, her eyes drawn again and again to the rich blue of the ocean. She’d only been away from home for a few days, but in some ways it felt as though she’d always been here. Perhaps it was because a part of her always had been here – her aunt. Was that why she had wanted Holly to come and see the island so much? Was she afraid that by dying she would be leaving the place unattended?
It had been a long day and the thoughts swirling around in Holly’s head were beginning to become exhausting. She was relieved when they finally rounded the corner and drove up the hill towards their respective homes. For the first time in as long as she could remember, she was actually looking forward to getting into bed and closing her eyes – and for once she knew that it wouldn’t be long before sleep stole in and whisked her away.
Aidan opened the door for Phelan before he reached Holly, and for a second their eyes met through the jeep window.
‘I have to put in a morning at the clinic tomorrow,’ he told her as she clambered out on to the path. ‘But I thought we could maybe drive over to Keri in the afternoon?’
Holly consulted the map. Keri didn’t look like it was very far away at all, and someone – she suspected this time it had been her mum – had written the words ‘yummy barman at Ocean View’ in large, enthusiastic letters.
Aidan looked down and grinned. ‘I can’t promise you a yummy barman, but Ocean View is still there. We could have some late lunch there, if you like?’
Holly nodded. ‘I’d like that very much.’
They walked up the path in silence with Phelan padding along next to them and Holly let the comforting scent from the lemon and fig trees swim happily across her senses. In that moment, everything felt right.
‘Sleep well, Holly,’ Aidan said gently, and then he was gone.
Friday, 4 January 1991
Dearest Sandbags,
As you can see from the other side of this postcard, we’ve arrived back in England. It feels very strange to be back after so many years – and it’s cold enough to freeze your bits off. But there is some good news – I’ve met someone, and I really think this one could be different. He’s called Simon and he has beautiful black and white hair. I’ve taken to calling him Badger, which Holly thinks is just the funniest thing. He’s great with her, as well. We met just before Christmas in Sri Lanka and he’s invited Holly and me to live with him. Imagine! Me all settled down. I never thought I’d see the day. I’ve put my new address in the corner, so please do write back and tell me your news. I miss you every day.
Jen Bear xxx
14
As she had predicted, Holly fell asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow in the spare room and when she woke up, over ten hours later, it wasn’t with the shaking fear and nightmare sweating that she’d grown accustomed to. She felt absolutely amazing, and even sang loudly through the open bathroom window as she took a morning shower.
Swinging aside the sog
gy curtain with a flourish ten minutes later, Holly flipped open the glass door of the cabinet to retrieve her toothpaste and froze – there was a photograph tucked up on the shelf above, part-obscured by a dusty bottle of lavender perfume. How the hell had she missed that?
Jenny Wright was instantly recognisable, her brown hair pulled back into an untidy ponytail and a silly, lopsided grin on her face. She was wearing a bright yellow sundress with a red ribbon sash and had her arm casually draped around two young men with dark hair and lazy smiles. Given the depth of their tans and the fact that the photo had clearly been taken on a beach, Holly guessed that they were most likely Greeks. On the other side of them was another brunette girl. She was smiling too, albeit with less obvious confidence, and was wearing a white broderie anglaise blouse tucked into pale blue shorts. Her hand was clasped firmly in that of the Greek man closest to her.
There was no denying the similarity between this girl and Jenny, and as Holly stared at them she sank down to sit on the edge of the bath. So, this must be her Aunt Sandra. Wow, they really had been twins. Holly felt her eyes widen as she scoured the faded photo for details. It had been years since she’d let herself look at a photo of her mum, and seeing her there so suddenly, looking so happy, so young and so clearly carefree, was like taking a hard punch to the chest. She could hear her heart hammering and forced herself to take a deep breath.
Flipping the photo over, she saw that someone had scrawled ‘Zakynthos, 1984’ on the back. That meant Jenny and Sandra must have been around nineteen when it was taken, a whole ten years younger than Holly was now. It was such a lovely photo, full of colour, vitality and smiles, and Holly felt a pang of genuine regret for the sisters. They must have been so close when this was taken, having just lost their parents and come over to Zakynthos together. At least, that’s what Holly was starting to assume must have happened. Perhaps there had been too many memories back home in the UK, too many painful reminders of what they’d both lost, lurking in the shadows.
My Map of You Page 13