They say beauty is only skin-deep. That’s a bit like saying you’d choose the most hideous sofa to sit on for thirty years just because it was comfy. You’d still have to look at it every day of your life, and be embarrassed when your friends came round and thought you had dreadful taste.
I would have chosen the elegant, uncomfortable version, every time.
Maybe I’m shallow, but Chloë is the metaphorical chaise longue of the female world. She is narrow, with an exquisitely carved back, delicately turned arms and so slender that you’d no doubt fall off occasionally when you dozed. But she would always be a thing of beauty, and would be auctioned off for thousands at Sotheby’s in a hundred years’ time.
She’s a bit like my mother, I suppose. They’re not blood-related, and yet they share definite qualities.
And I hope one of those, for everyone’s sake, is fidelity.
Going back to my friend Ellie, I always had a sneaking suspicion it was me she fancied. Those were the halcyon days when I didn’t need a ladder to look my female classmates in the eye.
In fact, one could say that I was the stud of my class. At the after-show party for the school production of Oliver! – during which I had given such a moving rendition of ‘Where Is Love?’ it had apparently reduced our boot-faced headmaster to tears – they were literally lining up behind the art block for a snog. I had to get them to form an orderly queue.
I learnt then that fame is a powerful aphrodisiac.
That was just before all the girls grew into giantesses in year eight and morphed into strange, secretive creatures from another planet. When bra sizes and lip gloss and . . . yuck! . . . those monthly things that sound disgusting beyond belief combined to become a world my gender couldn’t begin to comprehend. It was like our hormones separated us out of a mixed scramble and formed a huge gulf between us, never to be closed.
It’s nearly midnight here.
Dad and Sacha are still ‘away’ and won’t come back until Mum has hidden every sharp object in the house to prevent Jules killing her husband. Jules swept Rupes and Viola off for supper in the village earlier tonight and Sadie is still AWOL, though she has texted Mum to report the hideous details of her ‘shag-fest’.
(Mum should know by now that if she leaves her mobile lying around I’ll read her messages. She hasn’t worked out yet how to add a lock-code on it, and I’m certainly not going to tell her.)
It was actually very nice to have supper with Mum and the little ones with no added extras. I’d also sneaked into Mum’s bedroom earlier and checked there were no suitcases packed. By either of them. So Dad hasn’t left her. Yet. And over supper, she didn’t sound as though she was thinking of leaving him either.
Yet.
She was far more concerned with Chloë texting her, saying she’s with Michel and will be home ‘later’. So that’s where she snuck off to during the tea party this afternoon! Oh dear. I know I must grit my teeth, that Chloë must be allowed her freedom until we are wed, but sometimes it’s hard. And it’s especially hard knowing she’s with Mr Fix-it’s son . . .
Having said that, on the way back home from the tea party, Viola begged Angelina to pull in at Mr Fix-it’s house, so she could at least run in and give her daddy a cuddle. (Talk about ironic; a bankrupt alcoholic taking refuge in a winery!) And she elected me to be her wing-man.
As we emerged from the car, Mr Fix-it came out of the barrel room, all smiles. He told Viola that Sacha was out with William, but he would let him know she had been to see him. Then he took us to the barn to see some kittens as a consolation prize.
‘This must be very hard for her. It is good she has you,’ he whispered to me as Viola bent down in ecstasy and took a tiny fluffy kitten onto her knee.
‘I’m not sure Viola sees it like that,’ I mumbled.
‘Don’t underestimate yourself, Alex, you are a kind and thoughtful young man.’
We left then, after Mr Fix-it said Viola could come up any time she wanted to see the kittens.
Anyway, it was nice to get a compliment. It threw me somewhat. And the other good news is that, even though Dad is staying under his roof, they haven’t killed each other yet. Unless Mr Fix-it was lying, and Dad and Sacha are buried in a shallow grave somewhere in the grapevines . . .
There is a knock on my door. I stand up to open it.
‘Alex? Are you awake?’
It’s Mum. ‘Yes.’
She tries the door, which of course I’ve locked in case of further intrusion from unwanted sources.
I’d better let her in.
ιζ′
Seventeen
‘I’m worried about Chloë. She’s not home yet,’ Helena said as she peered round the door of Alex’s room.
‘She’s always late back, Mum.’
‘I know, but without Dad here, I’m responsible for her and I’ve got no idea where she is. She isn’t answering her mobile either. You haven’t heard from her, have you?’
‘Nope, sorry. She’s with Alexis’ son, isn’t she?’
‘Yes, but I can’t go to bed until she’s home, and I’m tired.’
‘What about ringing Alexis and seeing if he knows where they’ve gone?’
‘It’s almost one in the morning and I’m sure he’ll have had an early night after the party. It wouldn’t be fair to wake him. No,’ Helena sighed, ‘I’ll just have to wait up for her. Sorry to disturb you, Alex. Sleep tight.’ She smiled at her son wearily as she shut the door and walked back along the corridor to the kitchen.
She made herself a peppermint tea and went to sit on the lounger on the terrace to await Chloë’s return. And tried not to think about what was being said between the three men up at the winery . . .
Helena jumped at the sound of a moped buzzing over the gravel on the drive. She looked at her watch; it was half past two, and she realised she must have dozed off. It was a good ten minutes before she heard the tiptoeing of Chloë’s feet on the terrace behind her.
‘Evening, Chloë. Or should I say, good morning?’
Chloë jumped and turned at the sound of Helena’s voice.
‘Wow! You’re still up,’ she breathed.
‘I was waiting for you to come home. Come and have a cup of tea with me in the kitchen.’
It was not a suggestion. It was an order. Chloë followed meekly behind Helena. ‘Actually, can I just have a glass of water?’ Chloë said as she sat down at the table. ‘Am I in for a bollocking?’
‘Yes, and no.’ Helena poured some water for both of them, forgetting the tea. ‘But I am in loco parentis while your father isn’t here. And I was worried about you.’
‘I’m really sorry, Helena. Is Dad coming back any time soon?’ Chloë skilfully changed the subject.
‘We’re going to speak tomorrow and he’ll tell me what Sacha is going to do. Jules is upstairs and refusing to see him.’
‘I’m not surprised. Wasn’t last night the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever seen?’
‘It wasn’t great, I agree. What did Michel have to say about it?’ Helena asked, trying to steer the conversation back on track.
‘That it was the best free show the village has had for years. Everyone was talking about it today.’
‘Is that where you were tonight? In the village?’
‘Yeah. We went to that new bar on the corner opposite the bank.’
‘I know you’ve been drinking, Chloë. I can smell it on your breath.’
‘Helena, everyone drinks at fourteen these days. And I only had a couple of glasses of wine. It was such a good night. Michel introduced me to all his friends. They’re cool, even if their English is limited.’
‘Until two o’clock in the morning? Surely the bar closes at eleven?’
‘Michel took me for a drive on his moped afterwards.’ Chloë blushed.
‘Chloë, darling, Michel is eighteen, you’re fourteen. Isn’t he a little old for you?’
‘I’m fifteen next month, remember? That’s nothing. There’s nea
rly six years between you and Dad. What’s the big deal?’
‘At your age, Chloë, it’s a huge deal. He’s an adult and you are still a child. Legally, if not in other ways.’
‘Boys my age bore me,’ Chloë stated arrogantly. ‘Take Rupes, for example. What a douche-bag! He wrote me this love letter in French and it was terrible! He called me his “darling little pig” – he must have got cocotte confused with cochon. And he said I had eyes “like tiny bits of burning coal”. Besides,’ she added dreamily, ‘Michel is the coolest person I’ve ever met. He’s different from all the other boys I’ve known.’
‘Is he?’
‘Oh yes. He’s so gentle, and clever and he talks to me like an adult. And I could listen to that accent all day.’ Chloë gave a small shiver of pleasure. ‘Like, usually I feel I’m in control. I know boys want to go out with me, but I’ve never really cared about them enough, if you know what I mean.’
Helena did know. ‘Does he want to see you again?’
‘He says he’s going to borrow his dad’s car tomorrow to take me to see Aphrodite’s birthplace and then for lunch.’
‘Chloë, I don’t want to lecture you, or try to be like your mother . . .’
‘Then don’t, Helena.’
‘Okay. But, please, be careful.’
‘I will. I’m not stupid. For your information, I still am one, if you know what I mean. Most of my friends aren’t.’
‘Then just make sure you keep it that way. And if you don’t, then for heaven’s sake, come to me and we’ll . . . organise something.’
‘Thanks, Helena. You’re really cool.’
‘Believe me, I’m not condoning it, Chloë, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. And do try and remember, this can never be anything more than a summer romance.’
‘Why not? Michel was talking tonight about how much he wants to come and live in England when he’s finished his degree at university in Limassol.’
‘Yes, I’m sure he does. Anyway, this is a silly conversation. You only met him last night—’
‘But it feels like I’ve known him forever.’
‘I understand, but if you are going to see him regularly, we have to agree some ground rules, okay?’
‘Sure,’ she shrugged. ‘But please can I go out with him tomorrow?’
‘I’ll have to talk to Dad about it first. And if Michel is as mature as you say, he’ll understand that we need to know where you are. You’re still a minor.’
‘Okay.’
‘And one of the ground rules will be that you’re back by midnight, so we can go to bed knowing you’re home safe and sound. Which is where I’m headed now.’
‘Tell you what, if I’m going to be out all day, I’ll get up for the little ones tomorrow morning and make them breakfast, then you can have a lie-in. How about that?’
‘Deal. It must be love,’ Helena said with a smile.
‘Thanks. See you tomorrow.’
Helena lay in bed a few minutes later, so tired she was past sleep, thinking how short a time it felt since she too had crept back to Pandora in the early hours. Only to be caught and given a thorough dressing-down by Angus, who’d been burning the midnight oil in his study.
And here she was, having a modern version of the same conversation with her stepdaughter, about the son of the man she had once loved.
As Chloë had pointed out, things were different now. There was a freedom which hadn’t been there for her and Alexis. The barriers had tumbled down on so many levels; socially there were far fewer restrictions, ease of travel and communication had been revolutionised since her day . . .
Perhaps, if they wanted to, Chloë and Michel would make it.
Helena realised with an ironic smile that any union between their children would make her and Alexis relatives.
Just not in the way they had both once imagined.
Helena was upstairs helping Angelina change the sheets the following day when Alex appeared, clutching her mobile.
‘Dad for you,’ he said, handing it to her.
‘Thanks, Alex.’ She took the handset from him and put it to her ear. ‘Hi, darling, what’s going on? I’ve been worried about you.’
Alex was hovering behind her, so she walked away and onto the balcony.
‘Hi,’ William replied. ‘I just need to know if Sacha’s with you?’
‘No, I thought he was with you?’
‘Shit!’ William sounded agitated. ‘He seemed calmer when he surfaced this morning, a little more rational. Alexis and I fed him breakfast and had a talk with him. I’ve told him he’s got to fly back to England as soon as possible and deal with the banks. Then he said he wanted to go for a drive to have some time alone, so I let him take the car, making him promise he’d be back in a couple of hours. He hasn’t turned up yet and it’s almost two o’clock. I thought he might have gone to Pandora to see Jules, who, incidentally, turned up here earlier to see Alexis and apologise for the other night.’
‘No, Sacha’s not here. When did he leave you?’
‘Around ten, so he’s been gone almost four hours and he’s not answering his mobile. I should never have let him take the car. What if he’s been drinking again and had a crash?’
‘He was sober when he left, wasn’t he?’
‘Yes, but that doesn’t guarantee anything now,’ William sighed.
‘What does Jules think about her husband’s disappearance?’
‘She left with Alexis, who wanted to show her something. She said she didn’t give a damn where he was. How are the kids, by the way?’
‘They’re all fine. Perhaps you already know that Chloë’s out for the day with Michel, Alexis’ son? I texted you about it. He came to pick her up this morning and promised to look after her.’
‘Yes, I saw him leave earlier.’ There was a pause. ‘Anyway, I’ll hang around here for a bit longer, just to see if Sacha turns up, then I might as well come home.’
‘Okay.’
‘Bye, Helena. See you later.’
She took a couple of deep, calming breaths, dreading the conversation that would have to ensue once William was back. Alex was still hovering in the bedroom as she walked inside.
‘Everything okay?’ he asked.
‘Fine. Dad’s coming home in a while.’
‘Good. How’s Sacha?’
‘Currently AWOL, but I’m sure he’ll turn up.’ Helena walked over to Alex and gave him a hug. ‘Sorry it’s all been so difficult here in the past few days. And thanks for being so great with Viola.’
‘Truthfully, Mum, are you and Dad okay?’
‘Of course we are. What makes you ask?’
‘I saw you at the party. He was cross with you for dancing with Mr Fix— I mean Alexis, wasn’t he?’
There was no point in lying. ‘Yes. But everyone had had far too much to drink, and things got blown out of proportion, that’s all.’
‘Yeah, right. Mum?’
‘Yes?’
‘Can you promise, can you absolutely swear to me that you’re not going to run off with Alexis?’
She took his bronzed apple cheeks gently between the palms of her hands and smiled down at him. ‘I absolutely swear, darling. He’s an old friend, nothing more.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Completely. I love William, and our family. You all mean everything to me, promise.’
‘Oh.’ Alex’s shoulders sagged in relief. ‘Good. And . . .’
‘Yes?’
There was a pause as Alex seemed to mentally prepare himself. ‘I . . . need to ask you something else?’
‘Spit it out, then.’
‘And I want you to know that I won’t be pissed off, but I just need to know. The thing is . . . is he, is Alexis, my—’
‘Helena! Are you up here? Ah, yes, you are!’ Jules bounced into the bedroom, looking flushed and bright-eyed. ‘Guess what?’
Alex rolled his eyes at Helena and slunk out of the bedroom.
‘What is it, Jules?
’
‘I went up to see Alexis at his house and he invited me in for a glass of wine. I apologised to him about the party and he couldn’t have been sweeter, assuring me that most of the guests either didn’t speak English or were too merry to understand anyway,’ Jules said breathlessly, ‘which as you can imagine, made me feel heaps better. I ended up pouring out the whole sorry tale over lunch.’
‘Did it help? You certainly look better for it.’
‘Oh yes. I mean, he probably knew most of it from William, but he was so sympathetic and understanding. He asked me what I was going to do next and I said I didn’t know, because obviously my house in England would be sold, but that I didn’t want to impose on you and . . .’ Jules finally managed to take a breath between words. ‘Then he said he had a house here we could borrow, while I sorted myself out. Isn’t that just too sweet of him?’
‘Wow! Yes, it is.’
‘I mean, I offered to pay him some kind of rent – I told you I have a small amount from my mum – but he wouldn’t hear of it. He said it was standing empty, then he took me to see it and to be honest, I was expecting some ramshackle old thing like Pandora, but guess what? It’s brand new! He built it for himself last year to retire to when his son needs the big house for himself and his family. Helena, it’s gorgeous! Just down a narrow track from the winery, beautifully furnished, and with a huge pool. Alexis said he chose the spot because he believes it gives the best view in the village. He says I can have it for as long as I need, with as much wine as I can drink thrown in. So’ – Jules sank, exhausted, onto Helena’s freshly made bed – ‘what do you think of that?!’
‘It sounds as though you’ve found your white knight coming over the hill to rescue you,’ said Helena, as warmly as she could manage. ‘I’m so glad, Jules. You know you’re welcome to stay here, but I can understand if you want your own space for a while.’
‘That man is an old-fashioned, bona fide gentleman. I shall have to have him round to supper to say thank you. He’s only going to be up the track anyway.’
The Olive Tree Page 22