The Olive Tree

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by Lucinda Riley


  ‘Cool.’ Chloë went to the fridge, pulled out some orange juice and swigged it straight from the carton.

  ‘Actually, Chloë, I want to talk to you.’

  She swung round, suddenly animated. ‘And I want to talk to you.’

  ‘Good. Then let’s go out for lunch.’

  ‘Just you and me?’

  ‘Why not? You’re leaving in a couple of days, and I feel as if I’ve hardly seen you recently.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s what I want to talk to you about.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Me and leav—’

  ‘’Lo, Chloë. Where Meeshell?’ Fred bounced into the kitchen and grabbed hold of her legs affectionately. ‘He said he bring a real gun to show me that he shoots rats with.’ Fred careered off round the kitchen, killing imaginary rodents with an imaginary weapon and shouting ‘BANG!’ at the top of his voice.

  ‘He’ll be here later, sweetie,’ Chloë said, over the noise.

  ‘Let’s go out around noon and have a quiet lunch, okay?’ suggested William.

  ‘’Kay, but I’ll need to be back for three o’clock. Michel’s taking me to Adonis Falls.’

  ‘You’ll be back in time,’ William answered, grabbing a squirming Fred round the middle and plonking him in a chair at the table. ‘Right, young man, let’s get some breakfast into you.’

  William took Chloë to the restaurant just outside Peyia where he and Helena had eaten, not trusting the tiny population of Kathikas – most of whom Chloë now knew by name – to leave them undisturbed if they lunched in the village.

  ‘So, what was it you wanted to ask me?’ William sipped his lager, Chloë a Coke.

  ‘Whether you’d speak to Mum about me staying here for the rest of the summer.’

  ‘I see. That’s quite an ask.’

  ‘I don’t want to go to France. Mum’ll be with the awful Andy, there’ll be nothing to do and I don’t know anyone there. I’d soo much prefer to stay here with you.’

  ‘Darling, you’ve been here for nearly a month already. Don’t you think your mum’ll want to see you?’

  ‘She will for the first few hours, but then she’ll ignore me and I’ll be in the way of her love-fest. Andy doesn’t like me, and besides, he’s a real creep. You’d hate him. Mum has crap taste in men.’

  ‘Thanks!’ William chuckled.

  ‘I didn’t mean you, Daddy, you know that.’ She shrugged amiably. ‘Anyway, will you talk to her?’

  ‘To be honest, talking and your mother have never gone together. The chances are she’d slam the phone down on me when I’d barely opened my mouth.’

  ‘Daddy, please try, for me,’ she begged. ‘I really don’t want to go.’

  William sighed. ‘Look, darling, I’ve been down this road with your mother time and time again. She’ll just accuse me of emotional blackmail and think I’m trying to score points because you want to stay. I’m sorry, Chloë, but there it is.’

  ‘Don’t be sorry. I know how difficult she is. I mean, I love her – she is my mum, after all – but I’m not surprised you divorced her. I probably would have too, the way she treats all her boyfriends. She has to be centre of their attention 24/7.’

  William refrained from agreeing. ‘All I can say is that I did my best, darling. And I’m so sorry I failed you.’

  ‘I also know she made it hard for you to see me after you married Helena.’

  ‘It certainly wasn’t for lack of trying, that’s for sure. But I want you to know you’ve never been far from my thoughts.’

  ‘Oh, I sussed her out when I found a birthday card you’d sent me torn up in the bin. That’s when I knew you still loved me, and hadn’t forgotten me. But I had to play the game with Mum. You and I both know how volatile she is, and she was sooo jealous of Helena – got angry just ’cos I once said I really liked her. I’m cool about it, Daddy, really.’ Chloë reached a comforting hand across the table and patted his.

  ‘Well, I’m not “cool” about it, Chloë,’ William sighed. ‘I’d always hoped you could be kept out of our problems, and not used as emotional currency, but that wasn’t the way it worked out.’

  ‘Well, I don’t care what happened between the two of you. You’re my dad and I’ll love you whatever.’

  ‘And I’m so lucky to have such a level-headed and beautiful daughter.’ William felt choked with emotion. ‘I missed you so much when you were growing up, it physically hurt. I even considered kidnap a couple of times.’

  ‘Did you? Awesome!’ Chloë chuckled. ‘Anyway, Daddy, that’s all over now. I’m fifteen soon, and old enough to make my own decisions. And one of them is that I want to see a lot more of you and my family in the future, whether she likes it or not.’

  ‘We both know she won’t.’

  ‘Yeah, well, it’s not up to her, and if she gives me any grief, I’ll threaten to come and live with you. That should sort it,’ Chloë said with a grin. ‘Besides, if she marries Andy the arsehole—’

  ‘Chloë!’

  ‘Sorry, but he is one. If she does, I don’t want to be around much anyway. So, perhaps we could both ask her if I could stay on here instead of going to France?’ she urged, steering him back to the subject at hand.

  ‘Look, it’s lovely that you’ve enjoyed being with us, Chloë, but let’s be honest, I don’t think it’s just us you want to stay in Cyprus for, is it?’

  ‘Oh Daddy, don’t say that.’ Chloë looked offended. ‘I’ve had such a cool time here with you all. I love the little ones, and Alex is so sweet and Helena’s been so kind and . . . it’s like, well, a proper family. To be truthful, I wasn’t looking forward to it at all. I thought it would be really dull, but it’s been the best few weeks of my life.’

  ‘And meeting Michel has helped.’

  ‘Yes, it has, ’course it has,’ she admitted.

  ‘He’s a nice chap,’ offered William, ‘but there’ll be lots more like him in the future, I’m sure.’

  ‘Not like him.’ Chloë shook her head defiantly. ‘I love him.’

  William, following Helena’s advice, refused to be drawn. ‘Yes, I’m sure you do,’ he answered feebly as their meze arrived. ‘Now, let’s dig in.’

  ‘Should I talk to Cecile or not?’ William was perched on the end of Helena’s sunbed. The moment they’d arrived home, Chloë had disappeared off in a cloud of dust on the back of Michel’s moped.

  ‘It’s a tough one. If you ask her, she’s bound to say no just to spite you.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘But if you don’t talk to her, Chloë will feel you’re being unsupportive. So, how about some kind of compromise?’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Well, how about you call Cecile and tentatively suggest that Chloë comes back here for a few days at the end of the holiday in France? That way, Cecile gets to see her as planned, but it allows a bit of time for Chloë to hang round her mother and the boyfriend, bored stiff and pining for Michel. I’m sure that by then, Cecile will be only too glad to pack Chloë’s bags and send her back to us.’

  ‘Brilliant, darling!’ He kissed her on both cheeks. ‘Thank you. I’ll tell Chloë.’

  ‘It might not be exactly what she wants to hear, but it’s probably the best solution, all round.’

  ‘You know, Chloë really is a great kid. Very logical and clear-headed. She seems to have got her mother sussed, anyway, which is more than I ever managed.’ William sighed.

  ‘She’s certainly grown up on this holiday.’

  ‘I don’t want to go there, thanks,’ William muttered.

  ‘I didn’t mean it like that.’ Helena sat upright on the bed, arms around her knees. ‘We had a good chat and she knows what she’s doing, so don’t worry.’

  ‘Phone, Mum!’ Alex shouted up from the terrace.

  ‘Coming, darling.’

  Half an hour later Helena was sitting in the taverna in the village, opposite Sadie. She’d been expecting the worst when she’d received her SOS call; the end of another be
autiful relationship, a Sadie in bits. Yet Sadie seemed anything but traumatised. Her eyes were sparkling and she looked radiant.

  ‘So, where’s the fire?’ asked Helena, confused.

  ‘I have news, sweetie.’

  ‘So I gathered.’

  ‘Good, or bad?’

  ‘Depends on how you view it, I suppose. A bit of both, maybe.’

  ‘Come on then, spit it out.’

  ‘Okay, okay, I will. One minute . . .’

  Sadie fumbled in her capacious handbag, finally drawing out a white plastic stick and handing it to Helena.

  ‘Look at this. What do you think?’

  ‘It’s a pregnancy test.’

  ‘I know that much. Read it.’

  ‘I am. There are two pink lines, which means . . . oh my God! Sadie!’

  ‘I know!’ Sadie clasped her hands together. ‘It does say I am, doesn’t it? You’ve got more experience at this than me.’

  ‘Well, they’re all different, but’ – Helena studied it – ‘there’s a definite line in the other box.’

  ‘So I am. Pregnant, I mean.’

  ‘According to that, yes. Wow.’ Helena looked up at her friend and tried to literally read between the lines as to her state of mind. ‘Are you happy?’

  ‘I . . . don’t know. I mean, I only found out a few hours ago. It must have happened on that first night we slept together, after the apocalyptic party at the winery. We were both quite drunk and weren’t careful, if you know what I mean. I just can’t believe it. Quite honestly, I’d given up hope of it ever happening. After all, I’m thirty-nine. But it has, it has!’ Sadie’s eyes filled with sudden tears. ‘I’m going to have a baby, Helena. I’m going to be a mother.’

  Helena thought back to the days when they’d been girls together, dreaming of meeting their Princes Charming, the pretty houses they would live in and the babies they would have. She had heard Sadie mention often in the past few years how sad she was that the latter had never happened for her. But the reality of it happening now – especially in Sadie’s current situation – was something altogether different.

  ‘And what about Andreas? How does he feel?’

  Sadie paused. ‘I don’t know. I haven’t told him yet.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘In fact . . .’ Sadie drew in a breath. ‘I haven’t actually decided whether to tell him or not.’

  ‘I think he might notice on his own in a few months’ time, don’t you?’

  ‘Not if I’m back in England, he won’t.’ Sadie’s fingers circled the rim of her glass.

  ‘Have you fallen out?’

  ‘God, no. It’s actually quite difficult to argue in two different languages. We’re fine.’

  ‘So, what’s the problem?’

  ‘Isn’t it obvious? He’s a carpenter in a tiny Cypriot village, speaks barely a word of English and is fourteen years younger than I am. I mean, I’ve got to be realistic about this; can you honestly see us having a future together playing happy families?’

  ‘Do you love him?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘That sounds pretty conclusive, then.’ Helena felt blindsided by Sadie’s honest response.

  ‘I’m very fond of Andreas, really I am. He’s such a sweet young man. And physically, it’s been the best ever.’

  ‘That’s quite a statement, coming from you.’

  ‘The point is, he’s been a wonderful summer escape. You know I was really low when I arrived, and Andreas has provided the most fantastic ego massage. But I’ve always known I’ve got to go back to England. I’ve got a big work project starting next week. My affair was going to be a wonderful souvenir I could take home with me.’

  ‘Darling, if you go ahead with the pregnancy, you’ll have a living, breathing souvenir of this holiday for the rest of your life,’ Helena reminded her. ‘To be honest, I’m in shock. I really don’t know what to say.’

  ‘Well, I do. The bottom line is that I’ve decided I’m keeping the baby. This is probably my only chance of ever having one, and I know how much I’d regret it in my old age if I got rid of it.’

  ‘Yes,’ Helena said with feeling, ‘maybe you would.’

  ‘The real dilemma is, whether I tell Andreas I’m pregnant before I leave. You don’t think it’s illegal, do you? He can’t accuse me of stealing his sperm or anything, can he?’

  ‘I’ve no idea, Sadie. Although if he found out, he could probably demand access to the child.’ Helena took a sip of her bitter coffee. ‘Look, I don’t want to burst your bubble, or patronise you, but as you know, I’ve been there.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Single and pregnant. And it’s difficult, on all sorts of levels.’

  ‘I don’t know what it was like for you, Helena; you’ve never really told me about your time in Vienna when Alex was a baby. But how hard can it be? I’m financially independent, I own my own home and I work freelance. I’ll hire a nanny, it’s simple.’

  Helena took a calming breath, thinking that Sadie made it sound as though having a child was merely a minor inconvenience solved by recruiting extra staff. She could feel herself becoming agitated, induced by the memories of the dark days she had suffered on her own solitary path.

  ‘Sadie, it’s not just the practical and domestic side of things – it’s the emotional, too. You’ll have to go through the pregnancy and birth without any support. And then, every time the baby cries in the middle of the night, or gets ill, you will be solely responsible for it, maybe forever.’

  ‘Yes, I will. But Helena, I’m pregnant! Whatever it takes to do this, I’ll cope, I really will.’

  ‘I’m sure you will. I’m preaching, sorry. It’s wonderful you’re happy about it, it really is. All I’m trying to say is, think carefully before you dismiss Andreas completely. And for the record: morally, I think he has a right to know.’

  ‘Maybe. I’ll get back to England – put some distance between us – then decide whether to tell him or not. But spending my life with someone purely because I got pregnant by him is going back to the dark ages, and wrong for everyone concerned. I can do this by myself, I know I can.’

  ‘Well, good luck.’ Helena dredged up a smile. ‘You know I’ll be there for you as much as I can. When are you going home?’

  ‘Sooner rather than later, under the circumstances. I might ask William to give me a lift to the airport tomorrow, if I can get a seat on a flight.’

  ‘Andreas is going to be devastated.’

  Sadie eyed Helena in surprise. ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘Nonsense! He’ll probably mope around for a while from hurt pride, but as soon as the next pretty – and no doubt younger – face appears on the horizon, he’ll forget all about me.’

  ‘Personally, I wouldn’t bank on it. From what I’ve seen, he’s completely smitten.’

  ‘Do you really think so?’ Sadie’s face suddenly registered panic. ‘Oh my God, you don’t think he’d do something daft and follow me to England, do you?’

  ‘He might. Who knows?’

  ‘Isn’t that just bloody typical? I seem destined to be in love with men who don’t want me! And then when they do, I don’t want them! Sorry, I need to go to the bathroom. I’m feeling horribly sick.’ Helena watched as Sadie stood up, looking green. ‘Back in a tick.’

  As she ran to the ladies’, Helena sat wondering why she felt vaguely depressed. After all, Sadie was obviously overjoyed.

  Then she realised what it was: Sadie was behaving like a man.

  ALEX’S DIARY

  11th August 2006

  The Kleenex police have been on extra duty here at Pandora today.

  We’ve had Sadie arriving with her suitcase; then the tear thing started as she said goodbye to Mum and went off with Dad to the airport. I can only deduce that the wood-chopper’s chopper is off the agenda and Sadie’s heading off to carve out a new future back in London. Then Mum started too as she waved Sadie off. I asked her why she was crying, but she did th
at thing she does and said ‘I’m fine,’ even though tears were pouring down her cheeks and she was so obviously not.

  Chloë has literally dripped around the house for the past few hours. She is inconsolable about the fact she has to fly to France to her mother tomorrow and isn’t allowed to stay on here for longer. Even though she is hoping to come back here before the end of the summer, it seems this is no comfort to her. And to be fair, it’s unlikely to happen, given the logistics and her mother’s mindset.

  ‘Michelle’ has since arrived to say goodbye, and they have locked themselves in her bedroom. There is currently a small puddle of water collecting outside her door.

  I myself have stood in it and added my own little tear over this situation. I will miss Chloë dreadfully.

  Immy has stubbed her toe getting out of the pool, and there was blood. Add that to the lack of any Barbie plasters in the house, and the tear-duct explosion became inevitable.

  And Fred, feeling left out of the general mood I should think, decided to have one of his humongous mega-strength tantrums. No one’s quite sure what set it off, but we think it had something to do with a piece of chocolate. He’s been sent to bed in disgrace by Mum and is still screaming his rocks off upstairs.

  Fun, fun, fun.

  I am currently sitting on the terrace all alone. Mum has gone upstairs for a bath and I think Dad – who’s come back from the airport now – went with her. I am marking Rupes’ French essay and correcting his appalling grammar, having decided this was not the time to ask Chloë to be his French Mistress for the night. So I am working overtime myself and trying to keep my mind off her imminent departure.

  I rest my pen on the table and stare up at the stars. We have a whole two weeks left here, so why does this feel like the end of the holiday, when it isn’t?

  ‘Hi, Alex.’

  I jump, turn round and see it’s Mum. She’s wafted down silently like a spirit in her white kaftan thingy.

  ‘Hi, Mum.’

  ‘Can I join you?’

  ‘’Course.’

  She leans over me. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Helping Rupes with some work. He has to take an exam to get his bursary.’

 

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