‘You make wine?’ enquired William.
‘Yes.’ Alexis pointed to the jug on the table. ‘You are drinking it.’
‘It’s good, very good. Can I offer you a glass?’
‘No, thank you, William. I must go back to my guest. He is a wine merchant from Chile, and I wish him to buy from me.’
‘Then come round to Pandora and have a drink with us there,’ William suggested.
‘Thank you. I would like that. It is good to meet you, William. Adio, Helena, Immy.’ He nodded and left the table.
Alex had spotted Alexis as he came out of the toilet with Fred, and hung back until he’d gone. ‘What was he doing here, Mum?’ he asked as he and Fred sat back down at the table, his voice dripping with animosity.
Which told William everything he needed to know.
When they arrived back at Pandora, Helena put the little ones to bed, then ran a bath. She felt exhausted; last night, she hadn’t slept. Perhaps it was simply the tension of William and Fred arriving that had caused it.
‘The DVD player is set up in the drawing room.’ Alex wandered in to the bedroom without knocking, a habit Helena knew irked William.
‘Good,’ replied Helena. ‘I’m just going to have a bath. You off to bed?’
‘Yes. At least I’ve got a few books to choose from in my new library. Night, Mum.’
‘Sleep well, darling.’
‘Night, Alex.’ William appeared in the bedroom as Alex was leaving.
‘Night, Dad.’
William shut the door firmly behind him, then followed Helena into the bathroom. As she climbed into the tub, he sat down on the edge of it. ‘Peace,’ he said with a smile, running his hands through his dark hair and yawning. ‘I think I’ll sleep well tonight.’
‘Five hours on a plane with Fred is enough to knock anyone out for the duration,’ Helena agreed. ‘He fell asleep halfway through his story. I just hope he sleeps in tomorrow, otherwise he’ll be a nightmare for the rest of the day.’
‘I think that’s some hope,’ William sighed. ‘So, how do you know Alexis?’
‘I met him when I was last staying here.’
‘He’s a handsome man.’
‘I suppose he is, yes.’
‘He must have been a knockout when you first knew him,’ William probed.
Helena concentrated on soaping herself in the bath.
‘So, come on then.’ William gave up trying to be subtle. ‘Was there ever anything between you?’
‘Can you pass me the towel?’
‘Here.’ William handed it to her, marvelling at the way neither age nor childbirth seemed to have left their tell-tale marks on his wife’s body. With the water running off her skin, she reminded William of a nymph, her small breasts still high and full and her stomach flat. William felt a stirring in his loins as he watched her climb out and wrap herself in the towel. ‘So? You haven’t answered the question.’
‘We had a holiday romance whilst I was here, that’s all.’
‘And you haven’t seen him since?’
‘No.’
‘So it was . . . innocent?’
‘William,’ Helena sighed, ‘this was twenty-four years ago. It’s not important, is it?’
‘Is Alexis married?’
‘He was, but his wife died.’
‘So he’s a widower, then.’
‘Yes.’ Helena roughly towelled her hair dry, then reached for her robe.
‘Did you know he was going to be here?’
‘I had no idea. I haven’t spoken to him for twenty-four years.’
‘Yes, you’re right. It was a long time ago.’
‘Yes, it was. Now, how about you jump in before the water gets cold? I’ll go and close up downstairs. And speaking of downstairs, I was thinking that first thing tomorrow, I’d like to run into Paphos and pick up some plants for those lovely old urns on the terrace and that little flower bed next to the pool. Angelina’s here, so she can babysit the little ones for a couple of hours. Will you come with me?’
‘Of course I will.’
‘Great. See you in a minute.’
William undressed and sank into the bath, berating himself for his questioning. He was being paranoid and unfair to Helena. As she rightly said, whatever had taken place nearly a quarter of a century ago had no bearing on now. But the way Alexis had looked at his wife earlier in the taverna . . . William knew instinctively it was the gaze of a man still in love.
ALEX’S DIARY
14th July 2006
To Dad: ‘Hello, dahh-ling.’
To Immy and Fred: ‘No! darrrlings!’
To me: ‘Oh, darling!’
So, we are all here and back to Peter Pan Land. We are the ‘Darling’ family and my mother is Mrs Darling. I’m amazed she hasn’t employed a dog yet as our nanny, but give her time. Why did she bother naming any of us individually, when she uses one noun for all?
It’s especially difficult when she calls out a collective ‘darling’ from the kitchen and all of us respond from everywhere in the house, and stand there in the kitchen while she decides which ‘darling’ it is she requires. On the whole, I think she’s a very good mother, but this ‘D’ business drives me nuts. It must be a hangover from when she was working on the stage as a ballerina. It’s the kind of thing ‘theatricals’ say.
We are a family of five, soon to be six when this Chloë person arrives, which is quite large by today’s standards. Inside that family group, surely we need to maintain our individuality? And what is more personal to us than our names?
Fred has started copying her recently. I worry he’ll get a seriously rough ride at school if he thinks it’s okay to call the resident class bully ‘darling’.
Anyway, as long as she doesn’t start including Mr Fix-it on her ‘D’ roster, I can just about cope.
Of course, I was Number One ‘Darling’, once. I came first, before any of them.
And if I’m honest, sometimes I find it difficult to share her. She’s like a soft, round cheese and when I was born I had the whole lot to myself. Then she met Dad, and a great big piece was sliced off, though I reckon I still had half left. Then along came Immy, who got a big chunk, then Fred, who got another. And I’m sure she’ll need to cut off another sliver for Chloë, so my piece keeps getting smaller and smaller all the time.
It really struck me today, when Immy jumped into her father’s arms at the airport, that I don’t have one. A father, that is. William does his best, but put it this way: if there was a fire, I’d bet my entire Tintin memorabilia collection he’d save his real kids first. Which technically makes my chunk of the cheese half again, as Dad and Immy and Fred have bits of each other’s.
Dad seemed very happy indeed when I won my scholarship to that school. He opened a bottle of champagne, and I was allowed a glass too. Perhaps he was celebrating the fact that in the future I’ll be away from home most of the time and he won’t have to put up with me anymore.
Why am I suddenly over-obsessing more than usual about this father business?
Perhaps because, up until now, my mother has always been enough. I haven’t needed anyone else.
But just recently – and I read her very well – I’ve felt her slipping away.
She is not herself.
And nor am I.
ς
Six
William and Helena spent the early part of the morning at a small garden centre that Helena had spotted on the outskirts of Paphos.
It was rare these days for them to have time alone together and despite it being a relatively mundane task, Helena enjoyed wandering up and down the sunny rows of plants hand in hand with William, picking out various brightly coloured geraniums plus several oleanders and lavenders, which she knew would withstand the arid climate. The garden centre owner also had a little stall out front selling fresh local produce, so they stocked up on fragrant, fat tomatoes, melons, plums and sweet-smelling herbs to take home with them, loading everything into the boot of th
e car before heading back to Pandora.
‘Sadie for you.’ William came into the kitchen to hand Helena her mobile as she prepared lunch.
‘Thanks. Hello, darling, how are you?’ Helena used the chin-to-shoulder technique to hold the phone so she could continue washing the lettuce. ‘Oh, no, really? . . . Oh, what a shit! Are you okay? No, I’m sure . . . Yes, it’s lovely here. William and Fred arrived yesterday and we’re all having an afternoon by the pool, enjoying the peace before the Chandlers arrive. Hold on two secs, Sadie.’ She turned to William and indicated the tray of plates and cutlery. ‘Can you take them outside, and tell the kids to get out of the pool and dry off ready for lunch?’
William left with the tray and Helena resumed her conversation with Sadie. ‘Of course you’ll meet someone else. I never thought he was “the one” anyway . . . What? Well, if that’s what you’d like to do, but I really don’t know where you’ll sleep. We’re already bursting at the seams. Okay,’ Helena sighed. ‘Well, chin up. Just let me know the time of your flight and I’ll come and get you from the airport. Bye, darling.’
William had returned to the kitchen. ‘The kids are drying off. Anything else to go outside to the table?’
Helena tipped the lettuce leaves into a bowl already half full of chopped tomatoes and cucumber, tossed it deftly with her fingers and handed it to William.
‘So,’ he said as he took it, ‘how’s Sadie?’
‘Suicidal. Mark’s told her it’s over.’
‘Right.’
‘I know you didn’t like him much, and to be honest, nor did I. But Sadie did.’
‘So I gathered from the hours of calls, waxing lyrical in your ear.’
‘Yes, but Sadie is my best friend and I have to be there for her. The thing is—’
‘She wants to come and stay here, get away for a few days to mend her broken heart and cry on her best friend’s shoulder,’ William finished for her.
‘In essence, yes,’ Helena agreed.
‘So, when is she arriving?’
‘She’s calling the airline now to try and book a ticket.’
‘Very soon, then.’
‘Probably. I’m sorry, darling, but she sounds dreadful.’
‘She’ll bounce back – she normally does,’ he muttered darkly.
Helena grabbed a platter of cold meats from the fridge, glancing at William as she did so. ‘I know it seems like an imposition, but you need to remember that Sadie and I are like sisters. We’ve known each other since junior school and she’s the nearest thing I have left to family. I love her, simple as that, and I just can’t say no.’
‘I know,’ William sighed in resignation. ‘And I like Sadie, I really do, but I’m just worried this so-called holiday is threatening to become a few weeks of hard labour, with the house turning into a free hotel with me, and more to the point, you, running it.’
‘Pandora was made to be full of people. It certainly was when I was last here.’
‘Yes, and I’d bet it had a full complement of staff to cater to the guests’ every whim,’ said William. ‘I don’t want to see you run ragged, that’s all. You look exhausted already.’
‘I’ll ask Angelina if she’ll help out more, especially with the catering. She used to cook for Angus, and he was dreadfully fussy, so I’m sure she’s very good.’
‘Okay,’ William acquiesced, knowing it was a done deal. ‘Coming out?’ He offered her his hand, and she followed him into the bright sunlight of the terrace.
The three children were already gathered around the table under the pergola in various states of undress, Fred completely naked.
‘Mum, I’m sorry, but I don’t want to spend my entire holiday minding Fred and Immy in the pool,’ complained Alex, slumping into a chair. ‘Immy just wants to jump in all the time and I can’t leave her in case she hurts herself or drowns and it’s just . . . boring.’
‘I know, Alex. I’ll come down after lunch and relieve you, promise,’ said Helena, serving out salad onto each of the plates. ‘Guess what? Auntie Sadie is coming to stay with us.’
‘Another slice gone,’ muttered Alex under his breath.
‘What, Alex?’ asked William.
‘Nothing. Can you pass the pitta bread, Immy?’
‘It does mean we’re going to have to rethink the bedrooms yet again,’ said Helena. ‘I suppose we could clear out the box room, which is full of Angus’ stuff, and Sadie could sleep in there. It’s not a bad size, but it’ll take some work to do it.’
‘And a skip, from what I saw was in there. He was obviously a hoarder,’ added William.
‘You never know what you might find, Mum,’ said Alex, brightening up. ‘I’ll help you. I love wading through old junk.’
‘We’ve noticed, from the state of your bedroom,’ remarked William.
‘Thanks, Alex,’ said Helena, ignoring him. ‘We could do it this afternoon.’
‘Daddy, when will you take us to the water park?’ asked Immy.
‘Soon, Immy, but I think the water park in our garden is good enough for now.’
‘But it hasn’t got no slides or things.’
‘Eat your ham, Immy, don’t play with it. Daddy’s just arrived. Stop hassling him,’ reprimanded Helena.
‘Unless you want me to take them to the water park this afternoon, get them out of your hair while you clear out that box room?’ offered William. ‘And remember, Chloë’s arriving tomorrow. I have to fetch her from the airport. And then the Chandlers arrive the following day, God help us.’
‘YES! Daddy! Today! Today!’ Fred joined in Immy’s chorus, banging his spoon on his plate in tandem.
‘Enough!’ William barked. ‘If you promise to eat everything on your plate, we’ll go later on, when the sun’s gone down a little.’
‘You might be right about the skip,’ mused Helena. ‘But where on earth I get one from, I’ve no idea.’
‘Can I have a drink of orange juice, Mummy? I’m thirsty,’ Fred asked.
‘I’ll get it, Fred.’ William stood up, glanced at Helena and gave her a wry smile. ‘I’m sure your friend Alexis would know. Why don’t you call him?’
Helena and Alex stood in the doorway of the box room, mainly because it was impossible to step inside.
‘God, Mum, where do we start?’ As Alex looked at the furniture and endless discarded brown boxes, stacked to the ceiling, he began to regret not joining the others at the water park.
‘Bring the chair from Immy and Fred’s bedroom, and we can stand on it and pull down some of these boxes and stack them all on the landing. Then at least we can get in.’
‘Okay.’
Alex fetched the chair, stood on it and lifted the first box down to Helena. He climbed down to watch as she opened it.
‘Wow! It’s full of old photographs. Look at that one! Is that Angus?’
Helena surveyed the handsome, fair-haired man in full military regalia and nodded. ‘Yes. And in this one . . . he’s on the terrace here with some people I don’t know, and . . . goodness, that’s my mother with him!’
‘Your mum was very pretty, she looked like you,’ remarked Alex.
‘Or I look like her, and yes, she was,’ Helena smiled. ‘She was an actress before she married my father. She did rather well, starred in a number of West End plays and was thought of as a real beauty.’
‘Then gave up her career to marry your dad?’
‘Yes, although she was well over thirty when she married him. She didn’t have me until she was forty.’
‘Wasn’t having a baby so late unusual for those days?’
‘Very.’ Helena smiled at Alex. ‘I think I might have been a bit of a mistake. She really wasn’t the maternal type, your granny.’
‘Did I ever meet her?’ asked Alex.
‘No. She died before you were born. I was twenty-three and dancing in Italy at the time.’
‘Do you miss her now she’s dead?’
‘To be honest, Alex, not really. I was packed off to
boarding school at the age of ten, and even before that, I had a nanny. I always felt as though I was rather in the way.’
‘Oh Mum, how awful.’ Alex patted her hand in a show of sympathy.
‘Not really.’ Helena shrugged. ‘It was what I was brought up to expect. My father was much older than Mum, nearly sixty when I was born. He was very rich, had an estate in Kenya and used to disappear off shooting for months at a time. They were what you might call socialites, my parents, always travelling, throwing house parties . . . a little girl didn’t really fit in to their lifestyle.’
‘I never met Grandpa either, did I?’
‘No, he died when I was fourteen.’
‘If he was so rich, did you get lots of money when he died?’
‘No. My mother was his second wife. He had two sons from his first marriage and they inherited everything. And my mum was a real spendthrift, so there wasn’t much left when she died either.’
‘Sounds like you had a crap time growing up.’
‘No, just different, that’s all. It made me very self-sufficient, anyway.’ Helena felt the usual sense of discomfort that welled up within her when she talked about her childhood. ‘And determined to have a proper family of my own. Anyway, let’s put this box to one side. If we’re going to go through the contents of every one we bring out of there, we’ll never get it cleared.’
‘Okay.’
They worked solidly for the next two hours, pulling Angus’ past out of the room. Alex unearthed a trunk containing his old uniforms, and followed his mother downstairs to the kitchen wearing a khaki peaked cap and carrying a regimental sword.
‘Very fetching, darling.’ Helena poured them both some water and drank thirstily from her glass. ‘This really isn’t the thing to be doing on a boiling hot afternoon. But I reckon we’re over halfway there.’
‘Yeah, but what are we going to do with it all? I mean, you can’t throw this away, can you?’ Alex wielded the sword, which was extremely heavy.
‘I think it might be an idea to hang that on a wall somewhere in the house, and we can store the boxes of photographs and other memorabilia in the outhouse until I get a chance to look through them. As for the rest . . . we do need a skip. I’d better call Alexis, as Dad suggested, see if he knows where I can get one.’
The Olive Tree Page 8