The Olive Tree

by Lucinda Riley

  It’s not often I feel like the life and soul of the party, so the fact that I did gives a fair indication of the general mood. I could say it was Jules’ fault, for wittering on about what a dick she had for an absent husband – which then upset Viola – or that it was down to Rupes sulking because Chloë went off on a date with some chap she’d met at the airport. Or Sadie, who was having a bad day about her ex, apparently, so decided to share all the gory details with us. Or Dad, whose expression resembled the Grim Reaper as he doled out his burnt offerings.

  I could cite any of these reasons for the pall that hung over the table like the lingering smoke from the barbecue, but none of them would be accurate.

  It’s because Mum wasn’t there.

  She’s like super-glue, really. She invisibly binds the household together.

  Yet you don’t notice this until she isn’t there, and all the bits drop off.

  I went to check on her earlier, the minute I’d heard from Dad she’d ‘gone for a rest’.

  ‘Gone for a rest’ is a patronising euphemism adults use with their offspring, who are meant to accept it at face value.

  Mothers do not get ‘tired’. It’s not in their remit. They stagger on until they sink, shattered, into bed at the appropriate time. E.g., after the washing-up.

  So, in my experience, ‘gone for a rest’ does not mean my mother is tired. It means anything from too many gin and tonics to terminal cancer.

  I studied her closely, smelling her breath as I hugged her and confirmed she was definitely not suffering from overindulgence. As for the terminal cancer, that is a possibility I suppose, but as I was with her today in the sea, and she was swimming and splashing and looking as fit as a flea, her decline would have to have been miraculously fast.

  She might have been pale beneath her tan – but I’ve always wondered how on earth does one see the paleness when one is tanned? Another ridiculous, useless saying, like ‘suck it and see’. Suck what, exactly? And if you did, and it was full of arsenic, you wouldn’t be seeing anything for the rest of eternity.

  I digress. My instincts tell me my mother is not about to depart this world, so I’d have to deduce that it was that weird nun who came with Mr Fix-it who said something to upset her.

  That man is trouble with a capital T. I wish he’d keep away from us, but no, he keeps turning up like a bad penny at the merest hint of an opportunity. If I was Dad I’d be getting seriously pissed off by now. Because it’s obvious what he wants.

  And it’s not available.

  ιγ′

  Thirteen

  Helena had given in at midnight and taken a sleeping tablet. She kept two in her wash-bag for emergencies and they’d sat there for the past three years, ever since she’d been prescribed them just after Fred was born.

  Last night had been an emergency. She’d lain upstairs listening to her family eating downstairs and felt like a caged animal: trapped with her own thoughts, which paced relentlessly round and round in circles in her head.

  She’d taken the tablet just as she heard William coming upstairs to bed, and pretended to be asleep. Then, finally, she’d fallen into a blissful blankness.

  The joy of waking to find the bright light of morning rather than the grey gloom of dawn made her understand how easy it would be to become addicted. She stretched, feeling her muscles struggling to accept being jump-started, and looked at the clock in surprise. It was half past nine – the longest lie-in she’d had in years.

  She saw there was a note on the bedside table, propped up against a mug of tea.

  ‘Darling,

  Hope you’re feeling better today. Cleared everyone out of the house to give you some peace. Make the most of it and NO housework! See you later, W x’

  Helena smiled as she folded the note, but as soon as her lips formed the shape, she remembered last night and what the old woman had said to her. ‘Oh God,’ she whispered to herself, and sank back onto the pillows.

  The silence was deafening. No screams or giggles or muffled Disney soundtracks emanated from anywhere in the house. She reached for the mug of tea, her mouth feeling dry, and sipped it, even though it was lukewarm.

  William made her a cup of tea every morning. Despite the fact he could no more work the tumble dryer than take the controls of a spaceship, and watched the cricket on television when he was meant to be watching the children, in a hundred different ways he tried to show her he cared.

  Because he loved her. He’d walked into her life ten years ago and saved her. Helena’s stomach turned involuntarily at the thought. If he knew the truth, he would never forgive her. And she would lose him and the wonderful family they had created together.

  Over the years, there had been months at a time that had passed without her thinking about it. But last night, Helena had felt as though the old woman had looked into her soul and knew what lay there. As if what had lain hidden was slowly rising, on its way to the surface. Helena bit her lip as tears pricked her eyes.

  What should she do? What could she do?

  ‘Get up, for a start,’ she murmured, sensing the whiff of self-pity and hating it. Her family needed her and she must pull herself together.

  Deciding to swap her normal half-hour of dance exercises for the exhilaration of twenty lengths in the pool, which might help expel the after-effects of the sleeping tablet, Helena changed into her bikini and wandered downstairs. Angelina was in the kitchen, clearing up from last night’s supper.

  ‘I’m sorry, it’s such a mess.’

  ‘No, eet is what I am paid for,’ Angelina said with a smile. ‘My work. Your husband he say you must rest today. I am in charge. I like,’ she added.

  ‘Thank you.’

  Helena made her way to the pool, dived in and swam up and down, feeling her senses slowly return to her as the repetitive physical motion calmed her. She went back upstairs to take a shower and noticed the old envelope full of letters that Alex had left on her bedside table when he’d come up to check on her last night.

  Picking it up, she went back down to the pool, lay on one of the sunbeds and pulled out a letter at random.

  April 20th

  My darling girl,

  I am sitting under our tree and thinking of the last time you were here with me, lying beneath it in my arms. Even though it was less than a week ago, it feels like a lifetime. Not knowing when I will see you again makes our parting so much harder.

  I have been giving serious consideration to the idea of a move back to England, but how much more would I see of you? I know your life takes you away so often, and at least my work here occupies the empty spaces between your visits.

  Besides, living in the greyness of London and being stuck in an Admiralty office, pushing papers around a desk, does not appeal. Here, I have the brightness of the sun to help me through my darker moments, when I have to accept that that which I hold so very dear can never be mine.

  My darling, you know that I would do anything to be with you. I have money. We could go where no one knows us, begin again, start a new life.

  I accept and understand, of course, that the reasons you are not here in my arms are valid, but occasionally I ask myself if you really do love me the way I love you. If you did, then . . .

  Forgive me, but sometimes my frustration overwhelms me. I am having the darkest of moments. Without you, life feels little more than a long, hard trudge towards Calvary. Forgive me, darling girl, for my misery. I long to write of the joy we might share if life were different.

  I will wait for your next letter with my usual eagerness.

  And send you my heart, full of love,

  xxx

  A

  Helena folded the letter and replaced it in the envelope. The lump of emotion the words had engendered felt like a hard piece of apple in her throat. She found it difficult to believe that her godfather, a man who had seemed so controlled, could have written such a passionate letter. There was something very moving about the way that even he had succumbed to the most
basic and uncontrollable human emotion: love.

  ‘Who was she?’ Helena whispered to herself. She turned over onto her stomach, and glanced up at the house.

  Pandora knew.

  Helena walked into the kitchen two hours later to find a goat’s cheese salad that Angelina had prepared for her. Adding a glass of water to her tray, she walked out onto the terrace to eat. A good night’s sleep plus the bonus of a rare relaxing morning had slowed her heart rate, if not solved her problem.

  And reading the rest of Angus’ letters, searching for clues as to whom his paramour might have been, had comforted her. No one’s life was spotless, however they chose to present themselves to outsiders. Chance and coincidence played havoc with everyone at some stage. The feeling she’d had when younger of being blown like a leaf wherever the winds of fate took her was probably far more common than she imagined. Angus’ letters had shown that in spite of his powerful position in charge of hundreds of men – and on occasion, their very lives – he had not been any more in control of his destiny than she was.

  And it was a sad fact that, whoever this woman was – and from the letters, Helena was convinced she’d been married – Angus had spent his last years alone. And besides that, the letters had obviously been returned to him, judging by the terse note that accompanied them. Perhaps, she pondered, by the woman’s husband . . .

  As she ate, Helena wondered if it had been a mistake to come back here. Last time, Pandora had changed her life and begun a chain of events that had shaped her destiny. And subsequently brought her to where she was now, feeling as though invisible snakes were coiling around her brain, and there was no escape, whichever path she took.

  ‘I should have told him years ago,’ she murmured, tears again filling her eyes. ‘I should have trusted in his love.’

  Moving to the hammock, she clambered in and dozed, relishing the blissful peace. Opening her eyes at the sound of footsteps, she saw Alexis crossing the terrace towards her.

  Rolling herself out of the hammock, she walked slowly towards him.

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘Hello, Helena.’

  ‘I’m just going to make a cup of tea. Would you like one?’ she asked, walking past him and up the steps.

  ‘Where is everyone?’

  ‘I have no idea, but they aren’t here,’ she said as they crossed the terrace and entered the house. ‘William thought I needed a break, so he took them all out for the day.’ Helena looked at her watch. ‘It’s almost four, they should be back at any moment.’

  ‘He is a good man, your husband,’ Alexis said, as Helena filled the kettle and switched it on.

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Helena, I came to apologise for my grandmother. She is mad, her words meaningless.’

  ‘She might be, but she was also right.’ Helena turned to him and, with a sudden sigh of resignation, gave him a wan smile. ‘There have been too many secrets, Alexis. So, maybe now it’s time I began the process and told you the truth.’ She poured the boiling water into the teapot and stirred its contents. ‘Come and sit with me on the terrace. There’s something I need to tell you.’

  Alexis stared at her in shock, his teacup suspended between the table and his mouth.

  ‘Helena, why did you not tell me? You know I would have been there for you.’

  ‘There was nothing you could have done, Alexis.’

  ‘I would have married you.’

  ‘Alexis, the truth is that I wasn’t sixteen until September of that year. You may even have been charged for having a relationship with a minor. And it would have been my fault for lying to you, saying I was older than I really was. I told you I was seventeen, remember? I am so sorry, Alexis.’

  ‘Helena, whether you had told me your true age or not, I would have loved you anyway. The fact you were younger makes it worse for you, not me.’

  ‘Well, that summer here certainly shaped my future. Isn’t it amazing how every decision we make then affects the next one?’ Helena murmured. ‘Life is like a set of falling dominoes; it’s all linked together. People say you can discard your past, but you can’t because it’s part of who you are and who you will become.’

  ‘You say that summer shaped your future. Well, it has shaped mine too. Because Helena, no woman has ever matched up to you,’ he added sadly. ‘At least I understand now why you did not contact me when you went back to England all those years ago. I thought . . .’ Alexis’ voice was thick with emotion. ‘I thought you no longer loved me.’

  ‘Of course I loved you!’ Helena wrung her hands. ‘I thought I might die from the awfulness of cutting off contact with you, but I didn’t want to trap you, put you through the pain of making the decision. I’d told you I was taking care of that kind of thing when I wasn’t, and didn’t even know how to! I was so naive. I . . . it was so unutterably awful, I . . .’

  ‘You know I would have been there with you if you had told me. But you did not. So all I can do now in retrospect is share the pain and regret the outcome,’ Alexis said gently.

  ‘At least you went on to marry and have two beautiful sons.’

  ‘Yes. My wife was a good woman, and I give thanks every day of my life for the sons she bore me. But of course, it was a compromise. I could never feel for her as I did for you.’

  ‘But life is a compromise, Alexis. That’s what you learn with maturity.’ She shrugged. ‘And we are both mature now.’

  ‘You don’t look a day older than you did then.’

  ‘That’s sweet of you, but of course I do.’

  ‘Have you told William of this?’ he asked her.

  ‘No. I’ve always been too ashamed of it, of what I did.’

  ‘Perhaps you should tell him, now you have told me. He is your husband and I can see he loves you. I’m sure he would understand.’

  ‘Alexis, there are many things I’ve never told William, secrets that I keep to protect all of us.’ Helena shuddered suddenly in the heat.

  ‘You can tell me anything and I would not think less of you, because the love that was then . . . is now.’

  Helena looked at him, at the tears in his eyes. She shook her head helplessly. ‘No, Alexis, I’m no longer the innocent girl I was when you met me. I’ve weaved a web of deceit and lies that’s affected everyone. I killed our child when I was sixteen. You can’t know how many times since I’ve wished to God I’d just given in to fate and come and lived here and married you. I can never forgive myself for it, never.’

  ‘Helena, Helena . . .’ Alexis stood up and moved towards her. He pulled her up into his arms to comfort her. ‘Please, you must not blame yourself. You were so young and you also chose to carry the burden alone. It was unfortunate, but these things happen. You are hardly the only woman in the world to have made the terrible decision.’

  ‘I don’t care about other women! Every time I look at my children, I think of the missing one. I look at the empty chair . . .’

  Helena cried onto his shoulder then, her tears soaking his shirt as he stroked her hair silently, murmuring endearments in Greek.

  ‘Mummy! Mummy! We’re back! Are you better? Daddy says if you are, we can go out for chips and ketchup tonight in the village! I think you will be, don’t you? Hello, Alexis.’

  Helena pulled away abruptly from Alexis’ embrace, turned slowly, and saw William standing behind Immy.

  ‘Hello, darling,’ he said to her coldly.

  ‘Oooh, Mummy, you still don’t look well. Your eyes are all red. Daddy, I don’t think Mummy is better, but maybe a plate of chippies might help,’ Immy continued, oblivious to the tension.

  ‘I will leave you. Goodbye, Helena. Goodbye, William.’ Alexis walked across the terrace past William, who pointedly ignored him.

  ‘Had a peaceful afternoon?’ he asked her, sarcasm dripping like slowly poured honey from his words.

  ‘Yes, thank you. Where did you go?’ she asked, desperately trying to pull herself together.

  ‘The beach.’

  ‘Whi
ch one?’

  ‘Coral Bay. Think I’ll go for a swim in the pool.’ He turned away from her.

  ‘Yes. I’m fine to look after the kids and . . . William?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Thank you for giving me some time to myself.’

  ‘I can see you made the most of it.’

  ‘William?’ She walked towards him. ‘Can we talk?’

  He waved her away dismissively with his hand. ‘Not now, Helena, please. Okay?’

  With a sinking heart, Helena watched him disappear down the steps to the pool.

  ALEX’S DIARY

  20th July 2006

  Oof!!!

  What has happened in this house in the past twenty-four hours? I wish someone would tell me what is going on. Because something is.

  Tonight at the restaurant it was Dad’s turn to look as though, rather than a French fry – or a Cyprus fry, to be more precise – he’d swallowed a snake that was slowly eating his innards away and breathing poison through his veins. I don’t know about Mum being ill, but Dad looked seriously rough.

  Mum was valiantly doing her ‘everything is absolutely fine, kids, and aren’t we having a thoroughly jolly time on holiday?’ impression, which probably fooled everyone else, but not me.

  And even though I am feeling happy due to Rupes becoming the Incredible Sulk over Chloë’s detailed and incisive description of her snog with Airport Guy last night (if also suicidal about her snogging someone else), I can’t sweep away the feeling that something has gone seriously wrong in our household.

  Dad seemed so wrapped up in his own woes, he didn’t even complain that Chloë was meeting Airport Guy again tonight. Or that Fred painted himself and the table with chocolate ice cream and had a temper tantrum when he wasn’t allowed any more to daub with.

  Dad drank a lot more than usual, too. For that matter, so did Mum, who hardly drinks anything normally and had three glasses without leaving any dregs at all. And then Dad got up from the table and said he’d take Fred and Immy home to bed, and went off without a word. Leaving Mum, Sadie, the ghastly Jules, the Incredible Sulk and sweet little Viola behind.