‘I will tell you in a moment, but please, see if my son is still alive!’
‘Okay, okay,’ he agreed, ‘I am looking inside . . . wait one moment.’
Helena stood below him in an agony of suspense. ‘Is he in there, Alexis? Is he . . . Oh God! Oh God,’ she murmured to herself.
Then Alexis turned and climbed down from the chair with a sigh. ‘Helena, the room is empty.’
κη
Twenty-eight
‘His rucksack’s gone, and Bee, his rabbit!’ Helena said as she swept everything off the bed. Alex had obviously locked the door behind him when he’d left, and she had only just managed to climb through the small window after Alexis had broken a pane of glass to reach the inside catch and open it.
‘But why has Alex run away?’
‘It’s a long story. We need to search the grounds,’ she said, running out of the room.
‘I don’t think Alex would have taken a rucksack to make a stroll round the garden, Helena.’
‘I’ll check anyway, just in case he’s hiding somewhere.’
Helena ran frantically round the grounds and the outhouses, looking in every possible place where Alex might be hidden. Alexis had taken a torch into the dusk to look in the vines beyond the house, and eventually they met back on the terrace.
‘Nothing. He has gone, Helena. I am sure of it.’
‘I’ll try his mobile again.’ Helena picked up her own from the table and dialled Alex’s number. Again, his voicemail answered.
‘Darling, this is Mum. Please, please, call me just to let me know you’re all right. Bye.’ Helena paced up and down, trying to calm her mind so she could think.
‘If you tell me why he has gone,’ Alexis persisted, ‘then maybe I could help you think too.’
Helena stopped pacing and turned to Alexis. ‘He found out who his father was last night. So did William. That’s why neither of them are here. They have both . . . left me.’
‘I see. Come, Helena, you are exhausted. Please sit down.’ He took her by the hand and led her to a chair. ‘I will get you a drink.’
‘No, I don’t want one. But I do want a cigarette.’ She reached for the packet lying on the table from the night before, and lit one up.
‘So, this man, this . . . father of Alex? He is not . . .’ Alexis searched for the appropriate word. ‘Not liked by your son or your husband?’
‘No. He isn’t. You see, Alexis,’ she sighed, past caring about what he thought of her, ‘it’s Sacha, Jules’ husband, who I once knew as “Alexander”.’
‘My name, and Alex’s too.’ Alexis looked at her, his eyes registering shock. ‘No, this would not have been good news. Well, I am sure there is an explanation, but perhaps this is not the time to discuss it.’
‘No.’ Helena inhaled her cigarette. ‘You don’t think Alex would do . . . something stupid, do you?’
‘No, I don’t, Helena. Alex is a sensible boy. Maybe he needs some time alone to think. I would, if I was him.’
‘Yes, but he’s also a child in a strange country. Where on earth would he go?’
‘I cannot say, but wherever he is, Helena, he has planned it.’
‘Let me think, let me think . . .’ Helena put her fingers to her head. She looked up at Alexis. ‘He wouldn’t go to Jules, would he? To tell her?’
‘I was there earlier and Alex was not, but’ – Alexis shrugged – ‘I doubt it. They are not close, and he dislikes Rupes. I could call her if you wish.’
‘No, you’re right. He wouldn’t go there, and I can’t think of anyone else he knows here, other than you and Angelina. What if he’s in trouble? What if he only meant to go for a walk, and . . . ?’
‘Helena, please, try to keep calm. Alex took his rucksack. He was prepared to go. The question is, where?’
‘I . . . just . . . don’t know,’ she sighed, stubbing out her cigarette. ‘Knowing Alex, he’d look for a place where he felt safe, somewhere familiar.’
‘How about his home in England?’ Alexis suggested.
‘But how would he get there?’ She stood up suddenly. ‘Oh my God, his passport! Let me check!’ She bolted upstairs to her bedroom and pulled open the drawer containing the children’s passports and return flight tickets. Alex’s passport had gone.
She ran downstairs. ‘He’s taken it. He could be anywhere, anywhere . . .’ She crumpled into the chair and let out a sob.
‘Does he have money?’
‘He has a bank account with a card he can use to draw out money, but I’ve no idea how much he has in it. Not much, knowing Alex. Money burns a hole in his pocket.’
‘What about William? Where is he?’
‘I don’t know,’ she cried.
‘Then we will find out. You must call him, Helena. He should know Alex is missing.’
‘He won’t answer his phone if he sees it’s me.’
‘Then I will call.’ Alexis took out his mobile. ‘Tell me the number.’
He dialled the number she recited, and waited. An electronic voice told him William’s mobile was switched off, and to try later. ‘What about your house in England? William might be there?’
‘If he’s gone back to the UK he’ll either be there, or at the little apartment we keep in London. Try both,’ Helena urged.
Yet again, an answering machine clicked in on both numbers. Alexis left another two messages asking William to call.
‘Would you like me to go to the village? Ask if anyone has seen him?’
‘Yes, please, Alexis.’
‘And you must stay here in case Alex returns. Do you know what time he left?’
‘Some time past one o’clock, after Angelina had gone home. I should never have driven Fabio to Paphos, or gone to the beach, but I didn’t think he’d run away, I . . .’
‘Helena, you must stay calm, for Alex as well as yourself.’ He took her hands in his and held them tight. ‘We will find him, I promise.’
Alexis returned from the village an hour or so later, and Helena searched his face anxiously for news.
‘No one has seen him. We will look again tomorrow. For now, there is little we can do.’
‘Then surely we must call the police?’
‘Helena, it is after midnight. They can do nothing now. Tomorrow we will call.’ Alexis looked down at her, and reached out to stroke her cheek. ‘My Helena, perhaps the best thing you can do is sleep. You will need all your strength for tomorrow.’
‘I couldn’t sleep, Alexis. I just couldn’t!’
‘For me you will try. Come, we will see.’ He took her hand, led her into the shadowy drawing room and insisted she lie down on the sofa.
‘Will you stay for a while?’ she asked. ‘Just in case . . .’
‘Of course. I am here, as always,’ he answered softly.
‘Thank you,’ she said weakly, as her eyes closed.
Alexis sat quietly as Helena slept. He remembered that evening – maybe fifteen years ago – when he’d seen her dance The Firebird with La Scala at the open-air theatre in Limassol. Watching her onstage, he could hardly believe that this extraordinary creature, holding two thousand people enthralled, was once the young girl he’d loved so much.
Of course, Helena had never known he was there. But he’d never forgotten that night. And now, alone with her, as he gazed down at her, he knew that whatever she might have done since, his heart would never stop loving her.
Helena woke with a start to find it was morning. She sat up, reaching straight for her mobile. There was a text message.
Heart in her mouth, she opened it.
‘Under the circumstances, want to begin divorce proceedings as soon as possible. Pls advise me of your solicitor. W’
Helena fell back onto the sofa in despair.
Alexis called the local police as Angelina, her face a picture of anxiety, took the little ones up to her house in the village. Helena was pacing up and down on the terrace, dialling Alex’s mobile every few minutes like a mental and physical mant
ra.
William had not returned Alexis’ call either. Helena had tried both their homes in England, but all she got was the answering machine. Then she called Jules and Sadie.
There was simply no sign of him.
Helena watched as Alexis greeted the policeman at his car, and brought him round onto the terrace. ‘Helena, this is a good friend of mine, Sergeant Korda. He will do everything he can to help find Alex for you.’
‘Hello.’ Helena stood up, trying to pull herself together, knowing she was in danger of screaming out loud and not being able to stop. ‘Please sit down.’
‘Thank you,’ he nodded. ‘I can speak some English, but if Alexis knows details, he can tell me in Greek. It will be faster.’
‘Yes. Would you like anything to drink?’
‘Water, thank you.’
Helena retrieved a jug and glasses from the kitchen. Taking them outside, she listened as Alexis explained the situation in Greek, but retreated back into the kitchen and spent some time clearing up – anything to take her mind off her anguish.
Eventually, she went outside again. Sergeant Korda was standing, ready to leave. He smiled at Helena.
‘Okay, I have the details. We will need a photograph of your son. Do you have one?’
‘Yes, in my wallet. I’ll get it.’ Helena ran to her bedroom to retrieve her handbag. She found her wallet inside and flew back downstairs.
‘It’s in here somewhere.’ She opened it and fumbled through the different compartments. ‘There.’ She handed the snapshot to Sergeant Korda, tears coming to her eyes at the sight of Alex’s beloved apple cheeks and open smile. ‘That was taken a year ago. He hasn’t changed much since.’
‘Thank you. I will give it to our officers.’
‘Wait a minute . . .’ Helena took another look through her wallet. ‘My debit card seems to have disappeared.’
‘Debit?’ Korda looked at Alexis questioningly.
Alexis translated the meaning. ‘Are you sure it’s definitely not in there?’
‘Yes. Do you think Alex could have taken it?’ Helena looked at him. ‘He knows my PIN number, because I sometimes ask him to get money out for me if we’re in town.’
‘This is very good news,’ Korda said with a nod. ‘If your son has used your card, we can trace the location. Write down the bank details here, please?’
Helena scribbled them onto the sergeant’s pad.
‘Also, your addresses in England. I will speak to the British police too. We will check all flights from Paphos airport from four o’clock onwards. And as you cannot contact your husband, we will suggest the police go to both your homes to check if Alex is there.’
‘Thank you for everything, Sergeant Korda,’ Helena said when she’d written down the details he’d requested and they walked back with him to his patrol car. ‘I’m sorry for all this trouble. This isn’t my son’s fault, it’s completely mine.’
As the car pulled away, Alexis put a comforting arm around Helena’s shoulder. ‘Now, I must go up to my office to check my emails and also take a shower and change. I will be back very fast. Will you be okay here alone for an hour?’
‘Yes, of course I will. Thank you for everything, Alexis.’
‘You know I am always here for you, Helena. I will see you as soon as I can.’
She watched him stride off towards his car, then walked back to the terrace and sat down. She tried Alex, William, Cedar House and the London apartment yet again. And still there was no answer.
She noticed one of Alex’s T-shirts hanging on the line. She got up and pulled it off, breathing in the still-present smell of her son. And closed her eyes and prayed.
A few minutes later, a car pulled up and Jules appeared on the terrace.
‘I just swung by to see if there was any news about Alex.’
‘No. None.’
‘Oh Helena, how awful for you. I’m so sorry. Are you here alone?’
‘Yes.’
‘Where’s William?’
‘I don’t know.’ Helena was far too exhausted to lie.
‘What do you mean?’
‘He left,’ she replied simply. ‘I have no idea where he’s gone.’
‘And Alex has gone missing as well?’ Jules eyed her. ‘There’s something you’re not telling me here, Helena. Come on, spit it out.’
‘Not now, Jules, please. It’s a long story.’ Helena couldn’t bear to look her in the eye.
‘Then I’ll have to piece it together myself. You’ve obviously told them something they didn’t know, or they’ve discovered it by accident. Which is it?’
‘Can we leave it there, Jules? I can’t cope, I really can’t,’ Helena begged her.
‘No. We can’t. Because I’ve got a feeling I know what it is.’
‘No, I don’t think you do.’
‘Well,’ Jules said, slowly, ‘if I said it’s almost certainly my errant, soon-to-be-ex-husband at the root of all this, I think I’d be right, wouldn’t I? Mmm?’
Helena lifted her head and stared at Jules in amazement.
‘It’s okay, Helena. I’ve always known about you and Sacha. Oh, and subsequently Alex,’ she added.
Helena was too stunned to speak. Eventually, she managed a strangled ‘How?’
‘Well, it was pretty obvious when he came back from Vienna that something had gone on while he was there. Knowing Sacha as I did, it was almost definitely a woman. For starters, he hadn’t been in touch with me more than a couple of times after he left England. To be fair, our relationship had reached crisis point. We’d been married five years by then, and I already knew there’d been at least a couple of affairs. He was miserable, what with his paintings not getting sold, and I was working all the hours God sent at the estate agency. So I decided we both needed some space, and suggested I bankroll him while he took a year out and did a master’s degree. At least the qualification might have made him employable at a gallery, or perhaps eventually as a teacher. And besides, you know the old saying, Helena – if you love someone, set them free. So I did.’
‘Jules, that was a big sacrifice for you to make.’
‘Yes, but I also knew what Sacha was like. He’s completely incapable of fending for himself. I had hoped he might realise how much he needed me in Vienna, and come back with his tail between his legs. I’d told him before he left that I wasn’t prepared to put up with his womanising any longer. Of course, I wasn’t counting on him meeting you. Or on finding myself pregnant with Rupes soon after he left,’ Jules continued. ‘I can honestly say I hummed and hawed for a few weeks on whether to terminate it, and not even tell Sacha. If I had, he’d have been none the wiser. But as you know so well, Helena, the longer I left it, the more that little thing inside me became real. So, finally, I wrote to Sacha in Vienna and told him he had to fly home, that there was a baby on the way. By the time he did, I knew there was no turning back. I was keeping it.’
‘Oh my God . . .’ Helena whispered, half to herself.
‘For the first few weeks, it was almost as if he couldn’t bear the sight of me. He wandered round in a daze, spending most of the time locked in his studio, painting. I really thought he was about to leave me.’ She looked at Helena. ‘I’m thirsty. Can I get some water?’
‘Yes, of course,’ Helena whispered. Jules stood up and went inside, while she sat perfectly still, shock rendering her brain too numb to think.
‘I’ve changed my mind. We’re both having a glass of wine. It’s after midday so we don’t need to feel guilty. Here. I’m sure you need one too.’ Jules put a glass in front of Helena, took a sip from her own and sat down.
‘Thank you.’
‘Anyway, one day I went into his studio to ask him something. He wasn’t there. He’d taken himself off for one of his long walks – he’d often disappear for hours at a time. And there on his desk were the most fabulous pencil sketches of a dancer. And they were all entitled “Helena”.’
Even though she felt sick, Helena took a large gulp of
her wine.
‘I’m afraid I ripped them all to shreds. Shame, really, as his sketches of you dancing were the best thing he ever produced by a mile. He was never that talented, you know, but love had clearly elevated him. That night I was ready for a showdown. I knew he would have found the sketches in pieces on his studio floor. To my surprise, when he came in, he took me in his arms. He apologised for being so distant, explained he’d something he needed to work through. It was never specified, but we both knew what – and who – he was talking about.’
Both women sat in silence for a while, each lost in her own memories of the same man.
‘Anyway,’ Jules continued, ‘over the next few days, we starting talking about the future. Sacha knew he had to take a full-time job, as I’d have to give up work when the baby was born, at least for a while. And his painting wasn’t going to feed a family of mice, let alone humans. So he called a few old friends from Oxford and went for some interviews in the City. He was eventually offered a position at a stockbroking company his father had employed for years. Rupes was born, and Sacha settled down at work and was actually doing rather well. As you can imagine, all his natural charm and good looks worked wonders on rich old ladies with money to invest.’
Jules rolled her eyes in distaste and took a slug of wine.
‘Then, three years later, just after we’d adopted Viola, Sacha was offered the chance to move to Singapore. I desperately wanted him to take it so that we could really make a fresh start. I loved it there, and so did he. Everything was fine – until we came back a few months later, for your wedding. I recognised you from the sketches immediately, and the look on Sacha’s face when he saw you trotting down the aisle was priceless!’ Jules gave a grim chuckle. ‘Even if I hadn’t known, that alone would have been enough to convince me there’d been something between you two.’
‘God, Jules, I am so, so sorry,’ Helena managed. ‘I’ve never realised you knew.’
‘No, well, why should you?’ she said abruptly. ‘From what I managed to glean at the wedding, I knew I was right. One of the guests told me you were an ex-ballet dancer and then William said during his speech he’d met you in Vienna, because Sacha had suggested he go there to find love . . .’ Jules gave a small shudder. ‘Then I noticed Alex at the reception afterwards, trailing behind you, like a little lost cherub . . . and I knew instantly. Even though Alex doesn’t look much like Sacha, he has his father’s eyes.’
The Olive Tree Page 34