by Ann Turner
‘I don’t think I dare hold it,’ she said as I went to pass her the glittering cup. I was happy to keep it in my hands, greedy to absorb every detail that pushed out in high relief in the pure gold.
After what seemed like a brief time but Burton pointed out was almost half an hour, I handed back the cup and was given the signet ring. This, too, was the work of a craftsman at his absolute peak. The two leaping bulls were captured so finely in a golden bezel it seemed they would burst from the ring and into the very air surrounding us. The finery of the ladies dancing with the bulls was beyond anything I had ever seen. The photographs had not revealed the way the gold was almost embroidered, its detail was so intricate. A master goldsmith had captured a world from millennia ago that was alive even now. Maria took the ring with trembling hands and gazed upon it with so much love it seemed as if her heart was breaking.
Two hours passed in Burton’s room, where we stood in an oasis of calm amid the clutter of his existence. We had been transported deep into the Minoan world and it tore us to wrench back to the present.
As Burton returned the golden treasures to the safe, reality was suddenly mundane. Burton and Maria promised to make their phone calls on my behalf, and we agreed to regroup at eight-thirty for dinner, where we would meet other friends in what promised to be a rowdy night. Stephen would be there too, so we would have to find a chance to slip away to discuss any possible leads that were uncovered.
15
Travellers talked too loudly and bumped hard against me as the bus descended into Heraklion. Dust and sweat were nauseating as Burton’s assessment of Stephen rang in my ears. Granted, Burton had a jealous streak, but he was astute and passionately believed what he’d said. I was angry with myself for raising it, when Stephen and I were getting on so well. And now I couldn’t ignore it. Why couldn’t I just take Stephen at face value and be happy?
The bus cleared out at the main square and I took a seat as we chugged down the hill to the harbour. Alighting, the air was salty and vibrant; a sea breeze rocked the boats moored along the wall. I climbed the steps to the hotel and ordered a fresh orange juice, procrastinating before going to the room. As I sat on mounds of Turkish pillows, I gazed down to the Venetian fortress. People on its flat roof looked like ants but one ant in particular was familiar. I peered closely – it was definitely Stephen’s walk. He must have changed his clothes, to dark trousers and a white shirt. But what perplexed me was his companion: a blonde-haired woman with a neat figure. My heart froze. She could have been Priscilla, but for a lighter, more carefree movement.
I rushed out of the hotel, passing a curious Katina who had just come back on duty. Darting through traffic, I made my way to the entrance of the fortress, its massive wooden doors half-shut.
‘Sorry, we’re closed.’ A girl was in the process of locking up, switching out lights in the gloomy, yawning space that was the main area of the ground floor.
‘Would you mind if I find my husband? I just saw him up on the roof.’
‘But he’s probably left by now,’ replied the girl, glancing at her watch.
‘Promise I’ll be quick.’ I raced past, chancing she was too young to challenge me.
‘Please hurry!’ she called, making no attempt to follow.
It was cold and damp inside, distinctly creepy. I glanced into the rooms off the hall; the walls were so thick you could scream until you died without a soul hearing. Ancient iron weaponry lay about as decoration, torturous chains and cannons. I rushed on, not wanting to be locked in but feeling certain I would have seen Stephen come out with all the other tourists as I was making my way down. I’d had a clear view except when I was avoiding traffic.
I arrived at the grand staircase that led upwards and stopped in shock. Sitting to one side of the stairs was a pair of blue and white sandals, neatly laid side by side, awaiting the return of their owner. They were like the sandals that Priscilla wore – their image had been burned into my brain as I stared at them during our mediation sessions: the unusual cornflower-blue, the fine leather. And these were identical, except for one strap hanging loose and a thin layer of dust. I blinked, not trusting my eyes. Could it be that Priscilla was upstairs with Stephen?
Or coming down. Noisy footsteps started tramping towards me from high above. I crept to hide in the shadows of the staircase, and soon a little boy came tripping along, followed by his mother, father and older sister.
‘How come they can stay and we can’t?’ he whined in an English accent.
‘They’re coming too. The man told them,’ replied the mother patiently.
‘It’s not fair!’ the boy screeched.
‘I want to go back!’ cried his sister, bursting into tears.
The mother picked up the blue and white sandals and slipped them onto her bare feet. I wanted to hug her. She was dark-haired and stocky, nothing like Priscilla. The only thing they had in common was their footwear.
After the family left I ran up the stairs as fast as I could, my ribs twingeing, slowing me down. By the time I reached the top, far above, and pushed out on to the roof, I was so short of breath I could barely keep going. There was no one in sight. The sea was choppy and tiny white horses pranced across the caps of the dark waves. The cannon parapets stood ominous in the light. A cloud passed in front of the sun and the area was plunged into cold shadow.
‘Excuse me.’ I jumped in fright as an elderly man creaked towards me. ‘You can’t be up here. You must leave.’
‘I’m looking for my husband and a woman he was with. He’s tall and dark with a beard, she’s slim and blonde. Did you see them?’
The man shook his head. ‘You must go. Now.’
From past visits I knew that there were enclosed spaces that led to smaller stairwells. I wanted to look in them, determined to catch Stephen.
The elderly man followed my gaze and flapped his hands at me. ‘You must leave, please.’
I had no choice but to retreat the way I had come. He followed one step behind until I was back at the main entrance, where the girl was now dressed in leathers and motorbike helmet.
‘I have to meet Alexandros!’ she moaned to my companion. ‘You know what he’s like when I’m late.’
‘I’ll close up,’ he said kindly. ‘But take this one with you.’ He gripped my elbow and flung me at the girl, then closed the heavy fortress doors behind us, locking me firmly out.
I made my way to the hotel, perplexed. Perhaps there would be a perfectly plausible explanation as to who the woman with Stephen was.
I opened the door to our room and was stunned to see Stephen sitting on the balcony wearing the same clothes I’d left him in, the T-shirt and shorts in which he’d flown over.
‘What were you doing at the fort?’ he asked. ‘All the people had left and then I saw you up there.’
‘I was looking for you. I saw you when I was having a drink downstairs.’
A strange expression crossed his face as he replied calmly, ‘But I haven’t left the room.’
I thought of what Burton had said, about MI5 spies and how easily Stephen would fit. I felt sick to be thinking this way about the man I’d been married to for decades.
‘You didn’t go out at all?’ I asked.
‘No. I had a good sleep and then read the paper.’
‘I thought you’d already read the paper?’
‘Not all of it,’ he said, confused.
‘Where is it?’ I looked around but there was no sign. I thought he’d left this morning’s newspaper on the plane.
‘In the bin. I didn’t think you wanted it.’
The bin was empty.
‘They did a turn-down service and tidied up. What’s wrong, Bec? You’re being weird. How was your day – did something go wrong?’
‘No, it was fine. We need to get ready for dinner,’ I replied.
Burton’s words haunted me again. Could there really be a part of Stephen I didn’t know at all? Had my eyes deceived me today or had Priscilla been up
on the fortress roof with him? What if she wasn’t in Paris but had detoured here to surprise Stephen? My stomach churned as I changed into my cherry-blossom dress for the evening.
• • •
The long table in the courtyard overhung with vines was full of colleagues from around the world: our mini United Nations. Although I had sat Stephen as far away as possible from Burton, they had managed to end up together in the middle of the table, such was the loudness and disarray caused by so many vocal people catching up.
As I heard how hard things were in the harsh economic climate I began to think of Coastal as a haven amid global doom. My head swam from horror stories of redundancies. One English university was closing its entire Classics department and no one had jobs to move on to. Stephen caught my eye more than once during these discussions.
‘Maybe now you can see that the action I took was minor and necessary. Think how much worse things could have been,’ he said in a soft voice as soon as there was a gap he could squeeze into.
‘You’re right, as always,’ I replied morosely. ‘But I don’t think it’s appropriate to point score when we’re hearing these awful things, do you?’
Stephen refilled our glasses then set the bottle neatly back on the paper tablecloth emblazoned with a map of Crete.
‘You need to learn from this, Bec,’ he said with intensity. ‘Things are changing fast. If you don’t adapt you’ll end up in real trouble.’
‘Listen to him,’ Burton cut in loudly, drunk. ‘World’s bloody expert on everything, Professor Stephen Wilding.’
‘Shut up, Burton,’ Stephen muttered. ‘Don’t ruin a good night.’
‘Cut other people’s jobs but keep your own,’ continued Burton. ‘Did you get a bonus for that, Wilding?’
Stephen called for the waitress. ‘Could we have coffee here, please?’ He reached over and removed Burton’s wine glass, placing it on the other side of the table, out of his reach. ‘You’ve never been able to handle your grog, Burton.’
‘You have no fucking right to tell me what to do! At least you can’t sack me!’ Burton flailed his arms wildly, sending wine splashing a red gash over Stephen’s shirt.
Stephen leaped up, furious. ‘You idiot!’
I tried to wipe the stain with the tablecloth but Stephen brushed me aside. ‘I’m going to have to change,’ he said brusquely.
‘Shall I come with you?’ I asked.
‘No. And I’m not sure I’ll be back.’
‘That’s okay,’ I said softly, catching Maria’s attention. ‘Just stay at the hotel.’
‘Jesus,’ Stephen turned on me, eyes flashing with fury, ‘I’m only here for you and now you’re sending me home?’
‘You said you weren’t coming back!’ Burton chimed in unhelpfully.
Stephen reeled around and, for an instant, it seemed he might hit Burton.
‘Yeah, go on,’ baited Burton, ‘slug a guy in a wheelchair, that’d be right. Dare you, Wilding. Here, let me turn my other cheek.’ He did an exaggerated movement with his face, opening one side up to Stephen. ‘Go on,’ he pointed at his jaw, ‘try to break it.’
With great effort Stephen regained his composure. Ignoring Burton, he stood and walked around the table shaking hands, making small talk and saying goodnight to everyone.
Maria approached as soon as Stephen left. ‘I really like him,’ she said. ‘But what was that ruckus about?’
‘I thought you’d have better instincts, Maria,’ snapped Burton and wheeled away. ‘I’m going to make those phone calls – I couldn’t reach either of them earlier.’
‘I’ve made mine,’ whispered Maria excitedly.
‘Hang on.’ I touched her arm and raced after Burton. ‘Burton, remember not to tell them the question about Priscilla came from me.’
‘No worries,’ he slurred.
‘Perhaps you’d better wait?’ I held the back of his chair. He looked up at me. I stroked two strands of wayward hair off his forehead and he took my hand and kissed each finger.
‘I miss you,’ he said.
‘I miss you too.’ I extricated my hand. ‘Shall we get another drink?’ I wanted to tell him about possibly seeing Priscilla today but he was too intoxicated. Like a mother, I ordered him lemonade and he drank it obediently while we listened to Maria’s story.
‘Sofia hates her boss. She’s worked with eight different bank managers over the years, each worse than the last.’ Maria glanced around, making sure no one but us could hear. ‘This one’s a common crook. He’s always taking bribes, which isn’t unusual in itself but the size of them evidently is. Staff are forced to do things they feel very uncomfortable about. Of course they get no extra.’ Maria rubbed her fingers together. ‘Only him, which is why he’s loathed.’
‘So, it’s more than possible someone bribed him to set up the accounts in my name?’
Maria nodded firmly and Burton nodded exaggeratedly, too drunk to notice what he was doing.
‘Sofia remembers you and the way he slammed the door on your heels,’ said Maria with gleaming eyes.
‘I’m surprised I didn’t notice her. I must be growing unobservant if I missed a giantess.’
‘She was sitting down behind the counter and wasn’t serving. Having a cigarette and keeping out of sight of customers. Sofia remembers you well, she was curious what your business was.’ Maria held up a finger momentously. ‘Now, here’s the thing. Sofia didn’t go out – she’d brought her lunch with her – and she doesn’t recall the bank manager seeing anyone but you all day. So, if someone really did ask about that account, they must have phoned, which Sofia considers unlikely as the manager rarely bothers to take calls. And he told you someone came in, didn’t he?’
‘Yes, but why would he make it up? He could have just asked me for more money. He went so cold. It doesn’t make sense.’
Maria shrugged. ‘Who knows, maybe he thinks you’ll be back and will pay more now you’ve been sent away the first time?’
I nodded but wasn’t convinced. ‘Your cousin surely went to the bathroom sometime. Maybe she missed the person coming in?’
‘And go out as well?’ Maria shook her head.
‘She makes a good point,’ slurred Burton.
‘I’ll interrogate further once I see Sofia. And she’s promised to get the original paperwork from when the two accounts were opened. That should shed some light for us.’
I hugged Maria’s little body and she returned the embrace, surprisingly strong for such a sparrow.
Burton threw his arms around both of us and promptly fell asleep. Maria gently lifted his head and settled him in his chair. She took off her coat and wrapped it over his knees.
‘If I were twenty years younger,’ she sighed. ‘He needs someone to look after him. Perhaps if you ever leave your husband?’ A full twinkling grin caught her lips. ‘But I have to say again I like Stephen. I didn’t get the feeling he was a two-timer, Rebecca. He felt solid. And apart from a clear rivalry with Burton, he behaved impeccably. Perhaps he’s not having an affair at all? We can all let our imaginations run away.’
I pondered Maria’s words through a restless night as Stephen lay beside me snoring gently. Could I be inventing his infidelity? Being accused of something I hadn’t done could be making me paranoid. But my worries about him had started before the fraud had surfaced. Could Burton be right – was I the nun to Priscilla’s high-class whore? Was that how Stephen viewed me: dutiful and sexless? Despair seeped in a sigh from my lungs, emptying me; the air in the room was suddenly stifling. I’d always thought Stephen found me attractive – he’d said it so often I believed him, or wanted to. Although others said I had a good figure and a pretty face, I never could see it myself, and now I realised maybe Stephen thought like I did. Perhaps for him, the intimacy I found so deeply reassuring was just his putting up with the fumbling rhythms of the plain and boring? If he was with Priscilla or another woman, was the sex extreme? What would they be doing? Stabbing pains shot through my gut.
I turned and watched Stephen’s chest moving up and down, his pyjama top unbuttoned in the heat revealing his strong tanned chest with a few wisps of dark hair. I laid my hand lightly on him and could feel his heart beating in soft, rhythmic throbs. I stayed like that for a long time until, in the scorching salty air, I finally fell asleep.
• • •
Burton, clean and neat and remarkably clear-eyed, welcomed us at the airport after we checked in.
‘Come to apologise?’ Stephen asked gruffly.
‘Whatever,’ said Burton, grinning.
Stephen bit back a reply and headed off. ‘Getting a paper.’
‘Thank God he’s out of the way,’ muttered Burton, ‘I’d been worrying about how I’d see you on your own. I made those calls last night. Don’t worry, I waited till I was sober.’
I braced myself for what was coming next.
‘It’s okay, Bec. Neither of them had noticed anything different about Priscilla. They certainly don’t think she’s having an affair with Stephen.’
I let out my breath, so relieved I felt light-headed.
‘Not that they’d necessarily know,’ Burton pointed out.
‘I’ve been starting to imagine things,’ I said. ‘Yesterday, I could have sworn I saw Stephen with Priscilla on top of the fort.’
Burton took this in with an intensity that darkened his features. ‘There is one thing, Bec: Priscilla is out of the country at the moment. They said in Paris doing research. But that wouldn’t mean she couldn’t be in Greece for a rendezvous.’
‘I had the same thought. I know about Paris. Oh Burton, don’t feed my paranoia.’
‘Well, it’s logical. But do you think Stephen would really go that far? It seems a bit desperate.’
‘I shouldn’t have opened my big mouth. Now your good news isn’t helping,’ I replied, frustrated. ‘And in the end, I don’t think it was him I saw up there anyway. I was a long way away.’
‘And he does look quite generic. Tall bearded alpha male. I often see tourists around here who remind me of him. Speaking of which, your Greek god’s returning,’ warned Burton. ‘I must make tracks.’ He flung his arms around me and I buried my face into his soft, warm neck.