by Taylor, Lulu
She was still stunned by what had happened the previous evening and the interview with Alexandra. Somehow she had imagined that connection she had felt with the young woman in the photographs at home, with her name in the photo albums and in the visitors’ book, would carry over into real life, and now she felt a quiet devastation that that had not happened. She realised that she had nurtured secret hopes that she could mend a broken family and help to heal her husband’s soul. Instead she had brought more suffering and made a reconciliation even less likely. And the mysteries still remained.
The shutters were open, letting golden sunshine flood into her room along with the sounds from the courtyard below. A light breeze fluttered the strips of veil that served as curtains. She wondered what she would do with this day. The ferry would leave the port tonight and she had a cabin booked for the return to Athens. When she’d imagined that journey, she’d seen herself going back with answers, perhaps even with the woman herself. She’d imagined performing a kind of miracle, bringing Alex back from the dead and taking her home. ‘Look, the mother you thought was dead is alive!’
She had made no plans for a future in which she would have found Alexandra but failed to find out the truth and even, perhaps, made things worse.
On top of that, she had to decide what to tell John. Could she put the knowledge of Alexandra’s existence out of her mind, go home and pretend that nothing had changed? She couldn’t imagine how she could live with such a huge lie between them. The alternative was to confess what she had discovered and tell him what she had done, condemning him to live with the knowledge that his mother hadn’t died but had abandoned him out of choice and never shown the slightest interest in him since. How could Delilah convey Alexandra’s seemingly absolute conviction that she had acted for the best, in order to protect her son from whatever her ‘good reason’ was? Delilah felt sure that Alexandra implied it was more than the frightful experience of accidentally causing her daughter’s death. Or was that the heart of it? Was it a good enough reason to abandon your other child? That didn’t seem to make sense.
‘Oh God,’ she said, sighing. ‘What a terrible mess I’ve made of this. What a terrible mess.’
No matter how hard she thought about it, she could see no way out.
Delilah packed her things and left them behind the desk of the hotel, and then walked first down the hill to the port, and then along the beaches and bays, following their trails of silver sand and pebbles until she found a place to have some lunch. Afterwards, she retraced her steps, thinking all the while about what she should do. By the time she was climbing the last few steep yards up the path to Chora, she’d come to the conclusion that she really had no alternative. She would have to tell John the truth. Such a large deception had the potential to tear their marriage apart after all. He might be angry with her now for her interference, and he might need all her help and support to get through it, but if he discovered what she had done after the fact, that would be the death knell for them. She felt sick at the idea of telling him but there was no alternative: she would have to take the consequences.
Something that Alexandra had said the night before had been playing through her mind all day. She’d said that she’d had the love of Nicky and the children and so could have survived the house. Her mind kept returning to the words, provoking something wistful and sad that she couldn’t identify until, as she stopped on the hill by the village walls and got her breath, taking in lungfuls of warm afternoon air, she suddenly knew what it was.
Without John’s love, she herself could never hope to survive the house. Love was all that could make it bearable. Alexandra had known that. That must be the key to what had happened. Was it just the loss of Elaine then? No. It had to be the loss of Nicky’s love as well.
Delilah took off her sunhat and brushed her hand through her hair. Her scalp prickled where sweat had cooled at the roots. She shook out her damp hair and turned to gaze out over the island, down the rocky hillside to the magnificent dark blue silver-touched sea, thinking hard. Surely she could work it out. Perhaps one of her early theories about Alex had been correct. Maybe Nicky had been a Lothario, sleeping around and betraying his wife, destroying their marriage that way. But Erryl’s words came back to her: that Nicky had been drinking to forget, that Erryl had never seen a man so sad. That was hardly the behaviour of a cold-hearted playboy. Another thought occurred to her: perhaps Nicky had blamed his wife for the death of their daughter and had ceased to love her. Without that, Alexandra had not been able to go on.
‘So she abandoned her son forever?’ Delilah said out loud. Her voice didn’t carry on the still air. She frowned. It wasn’t enough. The vital piece of the jigsaw was missing.
Arriving at the hotel hot and thirsty, she decided to take her luggage down to the port and find a place to eat before the ferry left. It would be a long journey back home, with a night on the ferry, a taxi ride back to Athens and then the plane home to Gatwick. She was in the lobby wondering if she could order a taxi when she heard her name.
‘Delilah! I was wondering where you’d got to.’
She turned to see Teddie striding in out of the bright sunshine. She smiled. ‘Hi. Sorry I missed you since the monastery. Was the museum good?’
‘Excellent! You missed a real treat.’ Teddie held up a bag of paprika-flavoured crisps. ‘I just went out to get Paul a snack. He’s really taken to these things. He likes them with some of that Greek beer. Aren’t you heading off this evening?’
‘I’m afraid so. It was a flying visit for me.’
‘Uh-huh.’ Teddie nodded, her soft fleshy face beaming at Delilah. ‘Well, it was great getting to know you a little. If you’re ever in Milwaukee, you know you’ve got a place to stay. And did you get your letter?’
‘My letter?’
‘Yup. A lady came in and left a letter for you. I heard her at the desk saying your name – at least, I don’t think there’ll be many other Delilahs staying here, will there?’ Teddie laughed. ‘Now, you take care and have a good journey home.’
‘Thanks, I will.’ Delilah tried not to be distracted but her eyes slid to the desk. ‘Give my regards to Paul and enjoy the rest of your stay.’
‘Oh, we will. Bye now.’ Teddie took her crisps and headed for the stairs. Delilah hurried to the reception desk and rang the small bell. The woman from the previous day came out.
‘Hello, madam, can I help you?’
‘Yes, I’d like to collect my luggage and order a taxi to the port. And I believe you have a letter for me.’
‘A letter? Oh, yes.’ The woman started searching behind the desk and a moment later she lifted up an envelope and handed it to Delilah. ‘Yes, here it is. I’ll have your luggage brought out and order you a taxi right away.’
Delilah was barely listening. She was looking at the delicate script on the front of the envelope that spelt out her name. She tore it open and pulled out the letter inside.
My dear Delilah
I don’t suppose you ever expected a mother-in-law like me – one who apparently ceased to be years ago and then turns out to be alive and kicking. Perhaps I’m the best kind. You can at least be sure I shall not be interfering with you and John. It’s a very strange story, I know, and you could only understand it thoroughly if you knew secrets that I’ve decided will die with me. So I’m afraid that I will never be able to satisfy your all-too-understandable curiosity. But what you said about John has tormented me all night. You must believe that I’ve always loved him dearly and have only done what I thought was right. He will come to know at some point what happened to me. I had hoped by that time I would be dead but if what you say of Nicky is true, it is more likely that I will outlive him. When Nicky dies, John will surely learn the truth, as the estate pays me a living allowance and he will be told of it.
Therefore I would like you to give him the letter I enclose with this one. It is my final testament to him, not of the things I’ve vowed to take with me, but of my love for him and m
y genuine desire to act in his best interests. It is up to you whether you give it to him now or when I’m dead.
There’s one more thing you must know. Even if Elaine had lived, I would have left. I had no choice. I’d like you to understand that.
Yours sincerely
Alexandra Stirling
A slim folded envelope addressed to John was inside the one that had held her letter.
There it is, she thought. John will have to know.
Delilah drove back from Gatwick as slowly as she could, telling herself it was because she was tired but knowing that really she was afraid of what would happen when she got home. How long could she go before she had to reveal what she’d done? She tried to imagine giving John the letter. ‘Oh yes, it’s from your mother. Did you think she was dead? Well, here’s a funny thing – I’ve just visited her in Greece actually.’
He was hardly likely to take such news bouncing up and down with joy and wreathed in smiles.
Despite everything, it was wonderful to be home. The sight of the lush English fields and the water-rich green of the hedges and trees refreshed her in a way that the baked rocky scrub of Greece never could. She allowed the mellow warmth to flood into the car and cheer her up, trying to banish her worries, but as she turned the car into the driveway of Fort Stirling she had a vivid and horrible flash of a girl on a pink bicycle pedalling in the path of an oncoming car, her fragile body not standing a chance against it. She gasped at the vision, overcome not just with the horror of the child’s death but the fact that her mother had been behind the wheel. She felt a tiny echo of the guilt and despair that Alexandra must have felt.
But why leave Nicky? And why not take John with her?
As she went over the brow of the hill and began the descent to the house, she noticed a flash of silver as the sun caught the bonnet of a car parked out the front. Was someone visiting the house? John wasn’t due back from his trip for another day. Perhaps it was someone to see Janey, or a visitor for Ben.
She parked her car, got out and examined the strange vehicle. It was extremely flashy, much smarter than most cars around here. John’s friends drove battered old Land Rovers and knocked-out Volvos the same way he did. Nothing glamorous like this would continue looking so pristine in the country past a week. Once it had been coated in mud, fallen leaves, blossom and bird mess, it would look like all the other cars around here.
Erryl came around the corner of the house with a wheelbarrow full of clippings and stopped short when he saw her. ‘Hello, ma’am,’ he said a touch awkwardly. ‘Mr Stirling didn’t say you were coming back today.’
‘Well, here I am!’ she said gaily. ‘How’s everything here?’
‘Fine, fine.’ Erryl’s eyes slid to the silver car.
‘Whose is this?’ she asked.
‘Mr Stirling has a . . . er . . . a visitor.’
‘But he’s away, isn’t he?’
‘Oh no, ma’am. He got back yesterday. Apparently the trip ended early.’
A chill rippled over her skin. ‘That’s strange. He didn’t ring me.’ She picked up her bags, waving away Erryl’s approach to do it for her. ‘Don’t worry, I’m fine. I’d better go in and see who this visitor is.’ She hurried up the front steps, anxious to hear that John was back before she’d expected him. Why hadn’t he rung her once he was back in range? What had he thought when he’d returned to find she wasn’t here? She’d assumed she’d be back before he was. But at least a visitor meant that she was off the hook for a while as to explaining where she had been.
Walking down the hall, she was surprised to hear the tinkle of laughter from the drawing room. John never used that room. She had to force him to use it for drinks when they had guests, otherwise it would stand empty at all times. She went up to the drawing room door and pressed her ear against it. There was the cadence of a female voice and then another burst of laughter. She recognised John’s laugh at once.
Well, that’s good. He’s in a cheerful mood.
She opened the door and walked in, saying, ‘Hello! I’m back.’
John was sitting on the old green silk armchair, leaning forward to whoever was on the sofa with its back to the door. The sofa table, with its Chinese vase and pair of alabaster doves, obscured the sofa but Delilah saw the shimmer of golden hair and the white of a spotless linen jacket. John looked up and saw her.
‘Darling,’ he said, standing up, looking a little flustered. ‘You’re home.’
Delilah looked at the figure rising from the sofa and turning to her. It was a face she recognised although she didn’t quite know how: elegant and slender with chiselled cheekbones and a curtain of perfectly polished blonde hair.
‘Hi!’ said the woman brightly, and Delilah knew at once who it was before John said anything but she could only stare as John gestured towards their guest and said:
‘Delilah, this is Vanna. My ex-wife.’
Chapter Thirty-Two
It was a strange and awkward afternoon. Delilah felt obscurely betrayed by the fact that Vanna was here, even though it was all explained very smoothly. She had come to England on holiday and been invited to stay with friends who by chance had rented a country house close to Fort Stirling. She hadn’t intended to visit but being in the vicinity had awakened so many happy memories that she had felt compelled to drop in. And wasn’t it lovely to see John again, and the house, and also get the chance to meet his charming wife? Goodness, the place hadn’t changed a bit, and neither had John!
Vanna spoke in a friendly enough way, and smiled and behaved perfectly pleasantly, but Delilah was ill at ease.
That’s not surprising, she told herself. How many people would be fine with their husband’s first wife dropping in like this out of the blue? There can’t be many.
But besides that she felt on the back foot. Vanna looked so polished and glamorous and she wafted through the rooms of the fort pointing out things she remembered and exclaiming over how things had either altered in some minute way, or stayed the same. Delilah knew she looked travel-stained and tired. She’d been looking forward to a bath and washing her hair and getting some fresh clothes on, but now she was forced to play the hostess aware she looked a total mess. She could just hear Vanna now, at some charity function, telling all her highly groomed friends about what it had been like to see her husband’s new wife.
‘My dear, she was a perfect fright. So English in that dowdy way. You’d think she’d never heard of a hairbrush and was a total stranger to the manicurist. Her clothes were things I’d consider only fit for the incinerator!’
Delilah’s temper crumbled under the pressure and she could feel a black mood descending, although she tried to smile through it. It was a relief when Vanna said she was leaving as she was expected back at her friends’ house for dinner. She kissed John goodbye on the front step, hugging him tightly and murmuring, ‘Don’t forget what I said,’ in a low voice meant just for him before assuming a loud tone for her farewell to Delilah. ‘Such a pleasure to meet you! Look after him for me, won’t you? He’s still precious to me, even after all this time.’
Then she skipped lightly down the steps, climbed into her gleaming car and drove away.
‘That was a surprise,’ Delilah said, turning to John, forcing out a smile that she was sure looked only halfhearted. ‘Did you know she was coming?’
‘I didn’t. She only called this morning.’
‘Quite an odd coincidence,’ Delilah remarked, ‘that she should come by at the one time I happened to be away.’ She could hear the note of accusation in her voice and wished she could suppress it but her irritation and tiredness were taking control, making her look for some kind of release and resolution to the pangs of suspicious jealousy that had been burning inside her ever since she’d seen Vanna.
‘What do you mean?’ John said in a cool voice as they went inside.
‘I don’t know. Just odd. How is she doing? What’s she up to? Why didn’t she bring her husband?’
‘She�
�s just got divorced again, as it happens.’
Delilah pounced on this, letting it feed her fear and jealousy. ‘Oh, really? That’s another odd coincidence! She’s divorced and she just happens to drop by when your wife is away?’
John stopped walking then turned and looked at her. ‘Are you saying,’ he said in a dangerously quiet voice, ‘that I arranged for her to come here while you were away?’
‘I don’t know!’ she said recklessly. ‘It just looks pretty strange to me. What does she mean by hugging you and kissing you all cosily like that – and telling you to remember what she said? What did she say?’
He said nothing but stared at her, his eyes glittering in the shadow of the hall.
‘So?’ she persisted. ‘What did she say?’
‘She said I should take care of myself, that I don’t look well. But while we’re on the subject of clandestine hugs and kisses and cosy chats, why don’t we have a little talk about you and dear cousin Ben?’
She felt the colour drain from her face and she stammered, ‘W-w-what do you mean?’
He smiled a horrible knowing smile. ‘You think I’ve been blind to it, don’t you? How he’s been following you around with his tongue out? I’ve seen you two, cosying up for glasses of wine together, meeting at every opportunity. I’d be a fool not to notice. I’ve been waiting for you to tell me about it but you’ve kept it very quiet, haven’t you?’
‘John,’ she said desperately, thinking as fast she could, trying to work out what he might have seen that would incriminate her, ‘you’ve got it all wrong.’
‘Have I?’ His expression turned sour. ‘You’ve got a cheek walking in here without so much as a phone call telling me when to expect you, and then treating my guest in the unfriendly way you did. In fact, you were downright rude. For Christ’s sake, she’s done nothing to you! And then to have the gall to accuse me of arranging her visit behind your back. For one thing, I was only here by chance myself, after our fishing got cut short. For another, I had no idea you’d gone off on your little jaunt.’