‘I think he had a nice time.’
‘Sorry for coercing you into it,’ she said, without an ounce of penitence in her tone.
Theseus brushed a stray lock of hair from his eyes. ‘I’m glad you did. I admit I was a little nervous. All I know of children is what I remember from my own childhood, and that was hardly normal.’
‘No, I suppose it wasn’t,’ she said softly, wondering how anyone could have a normal childhood after losing both parents at the age of nine as well as being something akin to a deity in his own country. ‘I know being an instant father is going to be hard, but this is what you wanted. All you can do is try your hardest and make the best of it.’
‘Is that what you’re doing?’ he asked, a strange expression on his face.
‘That’s all I’ve done since I found out I was pregnant. I will try my hardest to make our marriage work but only because it’s best for Toby, and not because you’ve blackmailed me into it.’
He winced, then nodded sharply. ‘That’s all I can ask from you.’
‘But first we need to get this biography finished. Right now I can’t think of anything else.’ Well, she could. She just didn’t want to...
The words she’d spouted about parenthood had come from the same store of pragmatism that had driven her to move out of her family home when Toby had been three months old and she’d realised that her mother’s indifference to her only daughter had extended to her only grandson.
It had been a particularly chilly day, and the manor had been even more draughty than usual. She’d put the heating on. Her mother had promptly turned it off, overriding Jo’s protests with a sharp, ‘If the child’s cold, put another blanket on him.’
In the snap of two fingers Jo had known she had to leave. She’d gone straight into action, borrowing money from her brother to rent a tiny flat from a sympathetic landlady.
She’d refused to dwell on it. Whatever the future held for them, she’d reasoned at the time, it would be better for Toby than living with her parents.
She didn’t want her son running up to his grandmother and being met with cold indifference, or thinking that drinking a bottle of whisky a day was normal.
Jo had spent her childhood devouring her mother’s cakes, getting fatter and fatter in the process, all in the vain hope of gaining attention—even if only a reprimand for eating too much. She hadn’t been worth even that...not even when the school nurse had sent a letter home warning that Jo was dangerously overweight. Her mother had carried on letting her eat as much as she liked. She simply hadn’t cared.
Jo would rather have put her head in a vice than put Toby through that.
Much like the time she’d left home, to think of her future now was to feel a weight sink in her stomach and drag her to the floor. Finishing the biography had turned into a godsend. If she kept her mind active and distracted she would survive.
‘How have you done today?’
‘I’m nearly there. I emailed you an hour ago with the latest chapters.’
‘I’ll read them after dinner,’ he promised. ‘We’ll be eating at six—does that suit you?’
‘That’s early for you.’
‘I didn’t think Toby would last much longer than that. He’s been saying he’s starving since half an hour after lunch.’
She smiled, unable to believe how deeply that touched her. ‘I’ll stop now and do some more tonight. If I fuel myself with caffeine there’s a good chance I’ll get it finished before the sun comes up.’
‘Don’t kill yourself.’
‘It’s what I signed up for.’
He inclined his head, his chest rising. ‘I’m going to catch up on some work. I’ll see you at dinner.’
* * *
Dinner itself was a relaxed affair. Toby happily wolfed down the spaghetti bolognaise the chef had made especially for him, but with the threat that tomorrow he would have to learn to eat ‘proper’ Agon fare.
‘Are chicken nuggets from Agon?’ he’d asked with total solemnity, to many smothered smiles.
All things considered, however, his son’s first day on the island had gone much better than Theseus could have hoped. He’d enjoyed being with him, which he hadn’t expected.
Maybe he could do this fatherhood thing.
‘I have to go to the palace in the morning. I thought I’d borrow my brother’s dog and bring him back. We could take him for a walk on the beach,’ he said to Toby, who had insisted on sitting next to him, which had filled him with pride.
‘Can I go to the palace with you?’ he asked hopefully. His face and T-shirt were covered in tomato sauce.
‘Not yet. It’s too busy there at the moment. I’ll take you in a week or two.’
Toby thought about this answer, then darted panicked eyes to his mother. ‘Am I still going to Ellie’s party on Saturday?’
Now Jo was the one to look panic-stricken. ‘I’m sorry, but we’re going to have to miss that.’
‘But Aunty Cathy’s got me a Waspman outfit.’
‘I know... I know.’
She inhaled deeply through her nose and smiled at their son, a smile that looked forced to Theseus’s eyes.
‘We’ll do something fun on Saturday to make up for missing it.’
‘But I want to go to Ellie’s party. You promised.’
To Theseus’s distress, huge tears pooled in Toby’s eyes and rolled down his cheeks, landing on his plate.
He placed a tentative hand on his son’s thin shoulder, wanting to give comfort, but Toby shrugged it away and slipped off his chair to run around the table to Jo and throw himself into her arms.
She shoved her chair back and scooped him up, sitting him on her lap so he could bury himself in her softness.
‘I want to go home!’ Toby sobbed, his tiny frame shaking.
‘I know... I know,’ she soothed again, stroking his hair.
She met Theseus’s gaze. He’d expected to see recrimination in her stare, but all he could see was anguish. She dropped a kiss on Toby’s head, saying nothing more, just letting him cry it out.
Only when he’d stopped sobbing and blown his nose did she say, ‘How about we ask the chef for some ice cream?’
Toby nodded bravely, but still clung to her.
Theseus remembered the cold days that had followed his return to the palace from his sabbatical. Night after night he’d lain in his bed, in the moonless dark, and had found his thoughts returning over and over to the woman he’d met on Illya. To Jo.
He would have given anything—all his wealth, his royal title, everything he had—to be enfolded in her arms once again and to feel her gentle hands stroke his pain away...just as they were doing now to their son.
The image of her sitting on the beach watching him sail away had haunted him until he’d blotted her from his mind.
‘I’ll see to it,’ he said, getting to his feet and making no mention of the bell that he could ring if he required service. Suddenly he was desperate to get out of the dining room.
He did not want the look of gratitude Jo threw at him. He didn’t deserve it. Toby’s distress was his fault.
As soon as he was out of the room and out of their sight he rubbed at his temples and blew out a breath of air.
He couldn’t explain even to himself how agonising he’d found that scene.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
JO HIT ‘SEND’ and threw her head back to gaze at the ceiling.
She’d done it. She’d finished the biography.
Theseus had given her the green light on the chapters she’d completed earlier and she’d forwarded them to her editor in Oxford. All that was left was for Theseus to approve the last two.
Once she’d imagined that she would want to celebrate. Now she felt that any celebration would be
more like a wake.
Her work hadn’t just opened up the King’s life for her, but the lives of his family too. Theseus’s life. This was a family bound by blood and duty.
When she’d arrived on Agon she’d been too angry at Theseus’s deception to understand why he’d lied about his identity. Now she understood.
He’d spent his entire life being scrutinised, having his every waking hour planned for him—whether at home in the palace, at boarding school, or in the armed forces. His life had never been his own to do as he wanted. He really had been like a trapped grown lion in a tiny cage.
No wonder he had kicked back. Who could blame him for wanting to experience what most people took for granted?
But now he was a model prince—a model Kalliakis.
She admired him for the way he handled his role, but wondered what it had cost him.
He’d been happy on Illya. Here, it was clear he did his duty but she saw no joy in it for him.
Stretching her back, she listened carefully. Unlike in the palace, where there was always the undercurrent of movement even if it couldn’t be heard, the villa lay in silence. If she strained her ears she could hear Toby snoring lightly in his bedroom next door to her makeshift office. After his earlier meltdown she’d worried he would struggle to sleep, but he’d been out for the count within minutes of his head hitting the pillow.
She’d felt so bad for Theseus, who had watched the unfolding scene with something akin to horror. She wished she could ask him what he’d been thinking, but no sooner had their dessert been cleared away than he’d excused himself. Other than his email confirming approval for the earlier chapters she hadn’t heard from him.
She’d bathed Toby and put him to bed alone. Theseus hadn’t even come to give him a goodnight kiss.
Had that been the moment when the reality of parenthood had hit home and he’d decided that keeping his distance was the way forward? Not having to deal with any of the literal or figurative messy stuff?
Inexplicably, hot tears welled up, gushing out of her in a torrent. She didn’t try to hold them back.
She didn’t have a clue what she was crying about.
* * *
When Theseus returned to the villa from the palace the next day, the beaming smile Toby gave him lightened the weight bearing down on his shoulders.
Toby even jumped down from his seat at the garden table where he and Jo were sitting and ran to him.
It was only when he got close that Theseus realised all of Toby’s joy was bound up in Theseus’s companion—Helios’s black Labrador. It didn’t matter. It was good to see him smile after his misery the night before.
‘What’s his name?’ Toby asked, flinging his arms around the dog’s neck.
‘Benedict.’
Luckily Benedict was the softest dog in the world, and happy to have a four-year-old hurtle into him. His only response was to give Toby a great big lick on the cheek. If Benedict had been a human he would have been a slur on the Kalliakis name, but because he was a dog everyone could love him and fuss over him unimpeded.
‘That’s a silly name for a dog.’
‘I’ll be sure to tell my brother that,’ he answered drily, not adding that his brother was in fact Toby’s uncle. He didn’t want to upset him any more, and had no idea what the triggers might be.
‘Can we take him for a walk on the beach?’
‘Sure. Give me five minutes to change and we can go.’
Throughout this exchange Jo didn’t say a word as she leaned over the table, putting in the pieces of what he saw to be a jigsaw.
‘Are you going to join us?’ he called, certain that she’d been listening.
‘I would love to.’
‘Five minutes.’
He strolled inside and headed up to his room, changing out of his trousers and shirt into a pair of his favourite cargo shorts and a white T-shirt. When he got back Jo and Toby were waiting for him, bottles of water in hand.
Jo looked pointedly at his feet. ‘No shoes?’
‘I like to feel the sand on my feet.’
The strangest expression crossed her face. But if she meant to say anything the moment was lost when Toby tugged at her hand.
‘Come on,’ he urged impatiently.
Together they walked out of the garden and down a rocky trail, with Jo holding Toby’s hand tightly until they reached Theseus’s private beach.
As soon as his feet hit the sand Toby pulled his socks and trainers off and went chasing after Benedict.
‘He seems happier now,’ Theseus observed nonchalantly.
His attempt at indifference was met with a wry smile. ‘Don’t beat yourself up about last night. He was tired.’
‘He was also very upset.’
‘Tiredness always affects his mood. Don’t forget he’s in a strange place, with strange people, and a man claiming to be his father...’
‘I am his father.’
She looked at him. ‘He’s only ever had a mother. Stories of his father have been, in his head, the same as stories about the tooth fairy. He’ll be okay. Children accept change and adapt to it far more easily than we do, but it’s unrealistic to expect that to happen immediately. He needs time, that’s all. Be patient. He’ll come to accept you and our new life.’
He wasn’t convinced. Did he really want his son to be just okay? Childhood was a time of innocence and magic. Break the innocence and the magic evaporated.
Even before his parents’ deaths he’d had little innocence left. Having a father who’d made no attempt to disguise his irritation with his second son had had an insidious effect on him. His mother had tried her hardest to make up for it and he’d worshipped her in return. When she’d died it had been as if his whole world had ended. Yet he’d mourned his father too. Loving him and hating him had lived side by side within him. For his mother, though, he had felt only love, and it had been the hole left in his heart by her loss that had cut the most. If not for his grandparents he would have been completely lost. They’d always been there for him.
As he’d read through the final chapters of his grandfather’s biography that morning, before heading to the palace, it had played on his mind how much his grandparents had given up for him and his brothers to ensure they had stability. It wasn’t just that his grandfather had kept the monarch’s crown, but the way his grandparents had enfolded their grandsons in their care.
Given that Helios was heir, it was hardly surprising that Astraeus had taken him under his wing more than he had Theseus or Talos. But Theseus had never felt excluded by it, in the way his father had made him feel excluded. His grandfather was often remote—he was the King after all—and he’d been strict with them all, but growing up Theseus had never doubted his love. And his remoteness had been countered by their grandmother; a loving, generous woman with all the time in the world for him.
Theos, he missed her as much as he missed his mother.
After reading the biography in its entirety, with all the pieces of his research stitched together to create the final picture, he’d understood just how much they’d given up for their grandchildren and for duty. The death of their son and heir had meant the death of their dreams, but they’d risen to the challenge with a grace that left him humbled and aching with regret. It was too late to tell his grandmother how much he loved her and to thank her for all she’d done and all she’d given up.
Toby bounded back to them, waving an enormous stick in his hand. Theseus marvelled at the freedom that came with simply being a child.
Did he really want to take that freedom away from him?
And could he do it to Jo too?
‘I’ve found a stick,’ Toby said, coming right up to him and holding it out like an offering.
‘Throw it to Benedict and see if he’ll catch it.’
‘’Kay. How will he know what to do?’
‘He’ll know,’ he said, smiling down at him. ‘You can always yell ferto to him when you throw it—that’s the Greek word for fetch.’
‘Ferto,’ Toby repeated, then ran off, shouting, ‘Sas efcharisto,’ over his shoulder.
‘Did he just say thank you to me?’ he asked, staring at Jo in astonishment, certain that his ears must be blocked with water from his morning swim.
‘I’ve taught him a few words and phrases in Greek,’ she conceded.
The admission caught him right in the throat.
He’d become so accustomed to speaking to her in both their languages that he’d taken her fluency in his language for granted. It was a joke amongst Greeks, Cretans and Agonites alike how dismally the British spoke their tongue.
Fate did indeed work in strange ways.
If Jo hadn’t been fluent in his language and the only credible person to take over the workings of the biography—
Suddenly he was certain that she hadn’t spoken Greek when he’d known her on Illya. Her speech now was practised, but not flawless. She could read the language well, but struggled with the more obscure words. He’d never seen her attempt to write it, but he was sure it would be an area she would have trouble with.
This wasn’t a woman who’d been taught his language from a young age.
‘When did you learn Greek?’
‘When I couldn’t find you.’ She looked briefly at him, then shifted her focus back to the light pink sand before them, following in Toby’s little footsteps. ‘I bought some of those audio lessons and spent every night listening to them, and I got Fiona to give me lessons too. She helped me with context and pronunciation.’
‘You did all that in five years?’
‘Four,’ she corrected. ‘And now I’m trying to teach Toby too.’
‘But why?’ His head spun to think of all the hours she must have spent studying, the determination it must have taken...
‘I told you before—I wanted to find you. I even started a savings account to pay for me and Toby to go to Athens.’
‘How did you think you would find me?’ he asked, more harshly than he’d intended. ‘Athens is a huge city. It would have been like looking for a specific tile in a mosaic.’
Theseus Discovers His Heir Page 13