by Sara Craven
Just what I need, she thought, responding with a polite, ‘Hello.’
‘So, where’s Millie?’ Daisy looked around as if expecting her to pop out from behind a lamppost and shout Boo.
‘On Rhymnos,’ Selena said evenly. ‘Preparing for her wedding.’
‘Wedding?’ Fiona echoed. ‘How amazing. We thought she’d have had enough of the Greek stud scenario by now, didn’t we, Dais?’
‘Well—there you go,’ Selena said briskly, trying to edge past them.
‘So, in all this time, you didn’t manage to talk her out of it,’ said Daisy, and giggled. ‘Or did you stay because you’d been talked into something yourself?’
Selena, to her annoyance, felt her colour rise but she managed a shrug. ‘I think a career is a better choice. She doesn’t.’ She added, ‘I’ll tell her I saw you.’
‘And make sure she invites us to the wedding,’ Fiona called after her.
When pigs grow wings, Selena thought as she walked away. I’m not even sure I’ll be invited myself, judging by the way Kostas spoke the other day.
‘Pillow friend,’ he’d called her, which sounded marginally better than ‘mistress’ or ‘tart’, but it meant the same and, knowing it had exposed her to the contempt of Anna Papoulis, stung like a thorn in her flesh.
And was painful in another way. Because it was so very far from ‘wife’.
There, she thought, unhappily. I’ve said it at last. Faced the fact that in all this time, Alexis has never mentioned marriage. Never suggested that my staying with him should become permanent...
Or not in the way I’ve secretly hoped.
Perhaps he was just waiting until Millie and Kostas had their wedding. Or maybe not.
For a moment, she felt troubled, then pulled herself together as she remembered the warm, moonlit nights and his hands and mouth caressing her—arousing her. But above all, his voice whispering, ‘S’agapo.’
I love you...
And wasn’t that what mattered? All that really mattered?
She sighed. If she said it enough times, she might even start to believe it.
Back at the house, she retrieved the ‘Personal’ file from the bottom drawer of her aunt’s desk, extracting Millie’s birth certificate and medical insurance documents and, after a moment’s thought, her own, although, as she reminded herself firmly, it was unwise to make assumptions.
Now there were other practical matters to be considered, such as the contents of her wardrobe. She knew from Alexis that winters on Rhymnos could and probably would be cold, wet and stormy, so jeans and sweaters and her fleece would be useful. The rest could be bagged up for charity and she’d make a start on that now.
Because I can’t wait to be out of here, she thought, hurling a blameless navy skirt into the reject sack. And back with the man I love, adding determinedly, on whatever terms.
She was just tying up the last sack when she heard a car arrive, then drive away and the rattle of a key in the front door.
Back from another little trip, she thought as she braced herself and went downstairs.
Aunt Nora was in the hall, removing her light waterproof jacket.
‘So you’re finally here,’ she commented acidly. ‘And Amelia with you, I trust.’
‘Well, no, she isn’t.’ Selena forced a smile. ‘You’re looking well, Aunt Nora. I hope your leg has quite recovered.’
‘It’s still painful. I have to use a walking stick much of the time. So, where is your sister?’
Selena abandoned any further attempt at evasion. ‘She’s on Rhymnos,’ she said. ‘Planning her wedding. And she hopes you’ll be one of her guests.’
There was an ominous silence. Then: ‘So she intends to continue with this madness.’ Aunt Nora drew a deep breath. ‘Why did you allow this to happen, Selena—against my express wishes?’
‘Because I couldn’t prevent it.’ Selena lifted her chin. ‘And now I don’t even want to. They love each other.’ She paused. ‘And there’s something else you have to know. I’ve also met someone and tomorrow I’m going back to Rhymnos to be with him.’
Her aunt’s voice shook with anger. ‘You dare to say this to me—that you’re throwing away your university place—the career I’ve offered—everything I’ve done for you? My God, your ingratitude is beyond belief.’
Selena said gently, ‘I have tried to feel grateful, but somehow it never quite works. You want me to become a teacher, not for the good of the community, but to provide you with cheap labour at your expensive school. And I’d have done it, for Millie’s sake. But she’s decided her own future, setting me free to do the same.’ She smiled. ‘And I’m doing it. So if I do decide to teach, it will be on my terms.’
‘Bold words,’ said Miss Conway. ‘Which you may well regret, my dear, when the summer’s over and your boyfriend gets tired of you and throws you out. Or simply goes back to his wife.’
She paused. ‘But you’re right. Millie is a lost cause, and I want nothing more to do with her or her Greek peasant. You, however, could still be of service to me, and when you discover you’ve made a terrible mistake, I might be prepared to give you another chance.’
Selena said woodenly, ‘I’ll bear it in mind.’ But inwardly, she was still smarting over the wife comment.
Not that she believed her, of course. Yet there’d been times when she’d found Alexis watching her, his expression guarded. Other times when he’d seemed about to say something—but remained silent.
But when she’d queried this, his answer was invariably, ‘I was thinking how very beautiful you are, agapi mou.’
Which was lovely to hear, but somehow left her still wondering...
Trust Aunt Nora to score a direct hit on my insecurity, she thought bitterly. And thank heaven she won’t have many more opportunities.
* * *
It was cloudy but still hot when she reached Rhymnos. She’d left a message the previous day to let the hotel know she was returning, but no one had been there to meet her from the ferry, and she found herself transferring her heavy suitcase from hand to hand as she trudged up the hill.
There was no one at the desk when she walked in, so she headed straight for the lift, retrieving her key from her bag as she pressed the button.
Opening the door to the suite, she was immediately halted by the unexpected smell of cigar smoke, and as she paused, putting down her case, a large, powerfully built man in a crumpled cream linen suit, his dark hair streaked with grey, strolled out of the bedroom, a cheroot smouldering between be-ringed fingers.
At the same time, she realised there was another man, younger, thinner and wearing glasses, seated on one of the sofas with a briefcase beside him.
For an absurd moment, Selena thought she’d come to the wrong floor—the wrong room—and braced herself to back out apologising.
But then the man with the cigar spoke, his Greek accent spiked with transatlantic overtones. ‘So you will be Miss Blake.’
Dark eyes under heavy grizzled brows swept her in a frank assessment that made her burn with embarrassment and indignation.
He turned to the other man. ‘I can see the attraction, Manoli. That golden beauty and innocence combination would tempt a saint.’ He sighed. ‘And as we both know too well, my friend, my son is no saint.’
She found a voice. ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t understand.’ She looked round almost wildly. ‘Who are you—and where is Alexis?’
‘My name is Petros Constantinou, and this is my family lawyer, Manoli Kerolas. As for Alexis...’ He shrugged broad shoulders. ‘He is in New York where he belongs and where he will remain from now on.’ He gestured with the cigar. ‘Now take a seat, young lady, while we discuss terms.’
‘I prefer to stand.’ Selena lifted her chin defiantly, aware that her heart was pounding and she felt deathly cold. ‘And there is nothing to discuss.’
He sighed. ‘As a favour to all of us, don’t make this harder than it needs to be. Just accept that the party’s over and g
et on with the rest of your life. Because you won’t be seeing Alexis again, here or anywhere else. It’s finished, pethi mou. Over.’
The words thudded into her like stones, and she forced herself not to flinch.
‘I don’t believe it,’ she said. ‘I’ll never believe it until he tells me so himself.’
‘That’s not going to happen.’ His tone was bluntly dismissive. ‘My son’s good at beginning things, but, as you’ve just found out, bad about ending them. He prefers that done for him. It’s one of his weaknesses, I guess, like his attraction to willing blondes and his sentimental attachment to this island.
‘But the olive oil project can run itself now, so he can devote himself to his neglected business and family duties in New York.’
He smiled. ‘No doubt, marriage and fatherhood will at last encourage him to focus on what is important in his life, rather than trivial diversions, however attractive.’
‘Marriage? Fatherhood?’ Selena’s throat was dry. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Ah,’ he said. ‘You didn’t know Alexis was about to be married?’ He gave her a derisive look. ‘But why would you spoil a beautiful romance by asking awkward questions?’
She said hoarsely, ‘He wouldn’t do this. He couldn’t. He loves me.’
‘I’m sure he told you so.’ His voice was almost benign. ‘Like most men, he would say anything to keep a pretty girl in his bed. But he is promised to a girl he has known since childhood, and the marriage will be celebrated almost immediately.’
He paused. ‘In fact as soon as I have dealt with such extraneous matters as yourself, Miss Blake.’ He beckoned to the lawyer. ‘Now, in order to save my future daughter-in-law undeserved heartache, we need you to sign this.’
‘What is it?’ Her hands were clenched in the pockets of her jeans, her nails digging into her palms. Using one pain to fight another. Keeping it at bay until she could be alone.
His voice was hard. ‘A legal undertaking that you will not contact my son again under any circumstances or disclose your past encounters with him here to any part of the media. In return for your agreement, I will arrange for two hundred and fifty thousand pounds sterling to be deposited in your bank account.’
He paused. ‘Call it compensation for your disappointment, although I am sure you will have no difficulty in finding a new protector to replace Alexis.’
Selena said thickly, ‘How—how bloody dare you! I won’t sign a damned thing and you can keep your filthy money. But you don’t have to worry.’ She swallowed past the tightness in her throat. ‘Do you really imagine I want to think about your son ever again, let alone see him or talk about him? If so, you must be mad.’
She indicated the door. ‘Now perhaps you’ll go.’
‘This is Constantinou property, thespinis.’ The lawyer spoke. ‘It is for you to leave. Although you may first collect any clothing or gifts you received from Kyrios Alexis during your time together.’
She bent and retrieved her case. ‘No.’ Her voice shook. ‘You can keep them, too.’
She added, ‘I want nothing from any of you—not now—not ever.’
And managed, somehow, without stumbling or yielding to the pain and grief waiting to swamp her, to turn and walk away.
As she emerged from the lift, her legs shaking under her, she saw Kostas standing in the doorway of the bar and managed to remember the errand that had sent her back to England.
She took the envelope containing the documents and the bracelet from her bag and handed it to him, somehow keeping her voice even. ‘For Millie.’
His glance slid away. He said hurriedly, ‘I am sorry for this trouble that has come to you,’ and went back into the bar.
After that, it all became ridiculously simple. The ferry was still loading at the quayside, and when she reached the airport on Mykonos there was an empty seat on a late afternoon flight.
It was almost as if the Fates, too, were conspiring to be rid of her.
She bought a ticket for Haylesford because she could think of nothing else to do.
Knowing there was nothing she could say in her own defence that could possibly justify this sordid, hideous little episode.
That she’d gone willingly and, above all, unquestioningly into the arms of a man about to marry his childhood sweetheart, who had used her and now, cynically ditched her, without even the courage to face her himself with the truth.
Just because he’d told her he loved her and she had wanted so desperately to believe him...
Not an excuse, she realised, that would cut any ice with her aunt, even if she could bring herself to use it. And she could just imagine the grim triumph that would greet it.
As the train pulled into Stilbury, the stop before Haylesford, obeying an imperative she barely understood, she grabbed her case and got out.
She walked into the town, found a cheap hotel and took a room for the night. The next day, she emptied her bank account for the advance rent on a tiny bedsit, and took a job as a waitress in a busy gastropub, full-time and with long hours but her own tips.
Not great, she thought, but work. Because work was the answer. The magic formula that would let her forget Greece and everything that had happened there.
And perhaps, at that desperate moment, she even believed it might be possible.
CHAPTER TEN
YET HERE SHE WAS, on board the ferry once again as it approached Rhymnos, the heat of the rail burning through her clothes as she leaned against it, her hands clenched in tense fists at her sides.
Up to the moment when she’d boarded the plane, she’d told herself that she didn’t have to do this. That there was still time to change her mind. But the chance of a rapprochement with Millie had decided her.
Kostas said things had changed, she thought, and he was right. The harbour had been enlarged, and smart motor yachts now outnumbered the fishing boats.
She made herself look past them at the white building on the hill, hoping against hope that this might have been transformed, altered beyond recognition, or, preferably, demolished, its associations buried with it.
Knowing, at the same time, that she couldn’t be that lucky. That there wasn’t even the palliative of a board announcing ‘Under New Ownership’.
Kostas was waiting when she disembarked and insisted on carrying her bag. ‘I am thankful to see you, sister. My Amelia will be so happy.’
His taverna was at the far end of the harbour, clean and colourful with its tubs of geraniums and red and white awning. Obviously busy, too, with all the outside tables taken.
Heaven alone knew how he’d raised the money to acquire it, she thought in bewilderment, but the gamble seemed to have paid off.
They went through the bar into the kitchen where Anna Papoulis was lifting a large dish of moussaka from one of the ovens, her normally sour expression deepening when she saw Selena, while totally ignoring her polite, ‘Kalimera.’
No change there, then, Selena thought wryly, following Kostas through a curtained doorway and up a flight of wooden stairs to the first floor.
Her room, situated at the end of a narrow passage and overlooking a rear yard with bins and crates, was small and little more than basic, with a low bed, covered by a thin red blanket, a narrow cupboard for her belongings and a rag rug on the hastily swept floor.
Ah well, she thought, I’m not planning a long stay. Only to remember, with a sudden pang of alarm, that was what she’d said the first time she came to Rhymnos, and how disastrously that had turned out.
But that was then, she reminded herself. This was now, and she was a different person.
Kostas deposited her bag on the bed and gave her an anxious look. ‘You will come to my poor Amelia?’
‘That’s what I’m here for.’ She kept her voice upbeat and even managed a reassuring smile.
But the smile slipped a bit when she followed Kostas along the passage to the main bedroom and found his poor Amelia in a pretty blue dressing gown reclining in the middl
e of a very large bed, with a dish containing a half-eaten bunch of grapes beside her and clearly as far from death’s door as anyone wearing mascara and lip gloss could possibly be.
‘Oh.’ She put down the magazine she’d been reading.
‘So here you are. I’d begun to think you’d changed your mind.’ Her eyes widened. ‘What the hell have you done to your hair?’
‘Cut it,’ said Selena. ‘Hello, Mills.’
She walked across and sat on the edge of the bed. ‘I thought you were ill.’
Millie grimaced. ‘I am. I’ve never felt so dreadful in my entire life. I can’t stop being sick, but I get no sympathy from the old bat downstairs. She seems to think I should still be waiting on tables. It would serve her right if I threw up over the customers.’
She added, ‘That’s one of the reasons I wanted you here, because I thought you’d understand.’ And paused. ‘Or perhaps you were one of the lucky ones and didn’t get sick.’
The room was hot, but Selena felt icy cold. One of the lucky ones...
She tried to speak steadily. ‘Millie, are you telling me you’re pregnant?’
‘Yes, of course. Naturally, Kostas is turning cartwheels, but then he doesn’t have to suffer like this.’ She took another grape. ‘Fruit is all I can eat. It’s a nightmare.’
No, thought Selena, her throat closing. I’m the one having the nightmare. After everything that’s happened, how can she be doing this to me?
She got to her feet. ‘I believe morning sickness usually ends after the first trimester, unless you’re very unlucky. In any event, it’s hardly an emergency.’ She walked towards the door. ‘I hope all goes well for you.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘Back to the UK. Where else?’ Selena’s tone was crisp.
‘But you’ve only just got here,’ Millie protested. ‘Besides, it isn’t just the baby, Lena.’ She was kneeling on the bed, her voice faltering and sounding very young. ‘We have big, big problems and we need your help.’
Of course they did, thought Selena, unease crawling across her skin like the scrape of a nail on glass.