Those You Trust: compelling women's psychological fiction

by Bernie Steadman

  Darkness had fallen while I’d been feeling sorry for myself, so I pulled down the blinds, cleared the grate from the day before and set a fire. As it got going, I ran a bath and found bubbles and bath oil and put them both in.

  It was odd that, apart from one text, Leo had not been back in touch. For the first time I felt a niggle of worry. It was gone six o’clock, which meant he had been out of touch for almost two days. I texted him again, and took the phone into the bathroom with me. I hoped he wasn’t in any sort of trouble. Especially with Kokorakis. He wouldn’t be so stupid, would he?

  The warmth of the water calmed me down, and enabled me to think. I did understand that Irini felt unable to tell me my father’s story if he had expressly forbidden her from doing so, but it was getting ridiculous. There was obviously a secret that I didn’t understand, and it was about my father leaving the island. Why did his mother live alone in this little house? How could something from forty years ago, before I was even born, be of such importance now?

  Dry and wrapped in my fleecy dressing gown, I made scrambled eggs on toast and a huge mug of camomile tea, and took them through into the living room, which was warm and cosy. I didn’t want to think about family for the rest of the night. I was tempted to watch a film on Netflix, but didn’t trust myself not to end up in tears again, so I played some music, dug out the laptop, and lost myself in designing another little house just like mine for an elderly couple who had lost everything.

  13

  I lay snuggled under my duvet, with only the slowly lightening stripe down the side of the blind indicating that dawn was on its way. Going to bed early had been an excellent idea, but I was now wide awake. I was contemplating moving into the smaller bedroom during the winter for the morning light, and then into the front room in the summer when the light at the back would be too strong, when there was a quiet, tentative knock on the front door.

  I leapt out of bed, worried that it might be Aunt Irini in trouble. She was an old lady after all. I struggled into my dressing gown and trotted downstairs on cold feet. I opened the door to find not her, but Leo on the doorstep. He was wearing a heavy coat against the cold wind coming down from the mountains and looked awful; tired, baggy-eyed and with several days’ beard growth.

  ‘Hi,’ he said, ‘sorry to wake you. Can I come in?’

  I let him in, of course, and he enveloped me in a hug that didn’t smell too good. ‘What on earth have you been up to?’ I asked, locking the door behind him and pushing him into the living room. The remnants of the fire were still putting out a little heat so I added a log and stirred the embers a bit. It might catch. ‘Do you need a drink, some food?’

  ‘I’m just tired, Anna,’ he said. ‘Would it be all right if I took a bath and then crashed here for a few hours? It gets so noisy at the hotel during the day and I need to sleep.’

  ‘What’s going on? Why haven’t you been to bed?’ I was at a loss.

  He took my hand. ‘Oh, you know, got drinking and talking with some boys on the Athens boat and one thing led to another.’ He sighed. ‘I may be several hundred euros worse off than I was some hours ago.’

  I’m not sure quite what I’d been imagining he’d been up to, but none of it was drunken gambling on the night boat from Athens. ‘Athens? I thought you’d been in Chania? And I thought you’d been in trouble, you look so awful. I can’t believe you’ve just been playing cards,’ I said. ‘Leo, why won’t you tell me what you’re up to?’

  There was no reply, of course. He stood silent, and almost sullen at the foot of the stairs. So I gave in. ‘Of course you can have a bath and get into bed. I’m awake now anyway, so sort yourself out. I’ll just collect some clothes and then I won’t need to disturb you.’ We headed upstairs and I ran the bath for him.

  ‘Thank you.’ He cupped my chin and breathed beer and cigarettes over me. ‘You’re wonderful, in case I haven’t told you that already.’ He sat on the edge of the bed, looking ready to drop, until the bath was deemed deep enough. Then he stripped off his clothes and dumped them in a pile on the bedroom floor, and got into the bath with a splash and a sigh.

  I let the door close and looked back into my pretty bedroom, now decidedly untidy. For a giddy moment, I was tempted to do that thing you always see on the TV, where the woman checks the wallet of the man and finds something that reveals he is the serial killer or already married or whatever. I didn’t do it. She always gets caught on the TV too, and I didn’t want him to catch me out. How embarrassing would that be? However, he told me he was going to Chania, not Athens. I couldn’t work out why he was lying. It wasn’t a nice feeling. Everybody had their secrets. Except me, it appeared.

  I shook out the duvet, put a towel on the end of the bed for him and took my clothes downstairs to get dressed. It was still cold, colder still than it had been in March, and here we were at the end of April and the winds were getting colder. Snow was quite possible in spring, my mother had warned me. Crete has an almost alpine climate because of the huge mountains, she said, and Cassia had said it too. Great. I added logs to the fire and wondered about getting central heating, but as the sun rose over the mountains, the heat came with it and I realised it would be one of those glorious clear days, just right for starting a garden.

  Above my head, the floor creaked as Leo got into bed, and I heard nothing more from him all morning.

  So, with tea, yogurt and honey and toast, and seated at the kitchen table, I planned my trip back to my parents. I’d need to fly to Athens and then catch a plane to Manchester, and I wouldn’t get in until the middle of the night. Great. At least the flights back were closer together. I regarded the wall connecting me to Irini next door. It would be a hell of a lot cheaper, and much easier to force the old lady to tell me the truth. I really did not want to go back home. It was duty that called. Dad was always so gregarious in the restaurant, the life and soul, but in the house he said little. He was too tired to play when I was young, and too busy to talk to me when I was older. I guess we grew apart. I didn’t have the open, argumentative relationship I have with my mother, and I didn’t know how to get him to open up and tell me what I wanted to know either.

  Maybe it was too soon to go back. I felt sure there was more I could learn about my family here, on the island. And it would be typical of my mother to read all sorts of messages into my return and invite bloody Will over. I saved the information and closed the laptop. There was plenty of time to book it later.

  More interestingly, I thought, pouring more tea, was what Leo had been up to. How had a stopover in Chania turned into a trip to Athens? I had no idea of the permissions he would need to convert the old ruin of a house into a restaurant and casino, but it wouldn’t be cheap, or easy. He obviously came from money over in the States. His clothes said it all. He lived in New York but didn’t have that broad accent that you heard in films. Leo sounded privately educated, and his father owned a string of restaurants, not a humble single one, like my parents. So he had the money and the desire to set up his business here in Crete, even if the country was still suffering a horrible depression and nobody would make it easy for him.

  I wondered what it was that had driven so many young men away from Crete after the war. Poverty? Loss of the freedom they had grown used to? Being wanted for arson, or murder? I didn’t know. The Cretans had fought so hard against the Germans to save their island, but many of the young men left and started again all over the world. I’d always understood that my parents went to England for the same reason, in the eighties. To start a new life. Ironic then, that I should retrace their journey back here but for a similar reason.

  Cheered, I made a list of what I needed to start my gardening project and headed over to the nearest garden centre, which was in Plaka on the other side of the bay. It was quiet on a Sunday morning, so the drive was less stressful than it could have been and I arrived at the garden centre in better condition than I’d expected. Piece of cake, this driving abroad stuff.

  Firstly, I bought
a car boot liner in the shape of a large tarpaulin and spread it over the boot and up the sides of the car. No way was I messing up my nice, clean vehicle.

  I was the only customer that early on a Sunday, and the owner helped me load compost, trowels, spade and fork, buckets and lots of tiny seedlings into the car boot. I had kept the old fig tree that had become lodged into the garden wall, and bought a peach to go next to it. And, as a late brainwave, four plastic cloches to protect the little plants if the weather changed for the worse. That would get me started, at least. The drive back passed quickly; I was full of plans.

  I was on my knees and up to my elbows in soil when Leo finally appeared at the back door, looking rather sexy in just his jeans.

  ‘Good morning, Earth Mother,’ he said. ‘Do you have coffee?’

  ‘It’s in the cupboard, make a pot. I’ll stop and get cleaned up.’ I stood and stretched my poor back. It was hard work, digging up old soil and mixing it with the new stuff, but it was going to be a good garden, I knew it. I poured water from my new watering can over the short lines of seedlings and kept fingers crossed that I could at least have a coffee before things crawled out from under stones and ate them. Lettuce, cucumber, tomatoes and green beans looked fragile in the soil, but I had to try.

  Leo was hungry, as was I after all the exercise, so I scrambled eggs and spinach and we had lunch together.

  ‘This is great,’ he said, shovelling the food in. I made more toast and poured more coffee. The guy could eat.

  ‘So, things didn’t go according to plan in Chania then,’ I tried, more to see what he might say than in expectation of a straight answer. I was learning that Leo liked to keep his life in compartments.

  ‘Oh, I hadn’t got all the paperwork that I needed, so I had to go across the water and see a few people, put a few things in place, you know.’ He waved his hand about, then put his head back down and forked up more food.

  Like a locked safe. ‘So have you got a lawyer for the purchase? I can give you the name of mine? She was fantastic, did all the paperwork for me on this place, managed all the legal Greek.’ I sipped coffee and nibbled on a last piece of toast, watching him eating. I have a thing about men’s forearms, which I justify as being completely legal and above board. I couldn’t take my gaze away from his right arm, as he flexed the muscle and all the little curly hairs around his wrist caught the light. I’d already noticed that they were strong hands with flat, wide palms and long fingers. I thought of Michelangelo’s sketches for his statue of Adam in the Sistine Chapel, all languid pointing and charged with the painter’s obsession for his model.

  ‘Hey, dreamer,’ Leo interrupted. ‘I lost you there for a minute. I said, going to Athens was part of getting a lawyer. I wanted my own guy from back home to help me sort this out. He’s Greek-American like me. Okay?’ He pushed a lock of hair out of my eyes with his equally strong left hand. ‘But we don’t have to talk about all that, do we?’ he murmured, and dragged my chair across to his. ‘How about we catch up for lost time? I’ve missed you.’ He kissed the nape of my neck and a shiver ran through me. All thoughts of my seedlings quite disappeared as we wasted the rest of Sunday afternoon in the most delicious way.

  I mentioned the invitation to the Kokorakises’ dinner party as he was preparing to leave, much later in the day. Leo stood near the door, holding me tightly and I caught a glimpse of the envelope lying on my desk. ‘Oh, I forgot to mention, I’ve met Delphine Kokorakis and she wants me to help her make a new home for the Andreanakises.’

  His face was blank.

  ‘You know, the old couple we saw in Paleochora with Tino.’

  ‘Of course, sorry. But why you? Why did she speak to you?’ He dropped his coat on the floor and flopped onto the sofa, patting the space next to him.

  ‘Well, I am an interior designer, Leo. But actually, I think Spiros was spying for them, and perhaps Maria was, too. I think they have known everything about me since I came. Maria was my only friend when I arrived. I suppose I told her lots about myself. More fool me. I bet they know about you as well.’

  I realised at that point that I had told Leo nothing of the past few days. Of Maria and Mr Kokorakis, of Aunt Irini, of Delphine. I felt oddly reluctant to discuss my family revelations; instead I told him about meeting Delphine and the dinner invitation, and the terrible revenge exacted on Maria for Spiros’ stupidity. ‘Anyway, there is little we can do to stop that man evicting Maria and Spiros, but I don’t want to miss the chance to help the Andreanakises. They did nothing wrong, and I can help Delphine. At least she is trying to put things right. Perhaps I can ask her to intervene about Maria too.’

  Leo had watched my face so closely as I’d told him my news I thought he might take a bite off the end of my nose. ‘So,’ I continued, ‘I will have to respond soon to the dinner invitation as it’s happening next Saturday. Would you like to come with me, Leo?’ As soon as it was out of my mouth I regretted it. Did I really want him with me? Didn’t that tie us together as a couple? A tie I didn’t want? What was the matter with me? Afraid to go to a party alone, or ashamed to be alone?

  Leo’s eyes had veered off toward the low burn of the fire. I could almost feel him evaluating the information.

  He turned back to me and grinned his huge toothy grin. ‘Will I? Will I come and meet Mr K in his mansion at the top of the hill, and be wined and dined by the guy who is selling me my restaurant? Or, rather, failing to sell me my restaurant?’ He leapt up and pulled me to my feet. ‘Too right I will. What an introduction! You know, I could have waited months for a chance like this, but you just waltz straight in there. Amazing. You are my lucky charm, Anna.’ He kissed me, hard, and danced me round the small space.

  ‘So that’s a yes, then?’

  ‘That’s a definite yes. Hooeee!’ He put me down. ‘Okay, honey, I have to go and get my paperwork up to date, then I’m off again for a couple of days on business to meet my lawyer and do some more legal stuff. But I promise I will be here, in time to pick you up for dinner, in my good suit, on Saturday evening. You’ve done so well!’ He kissed me again then left, racing off towards his hotel and smoking like a man possessed.

  I stood at the door and watched him disappear. What the hell was all that about? I had the worst feeling that I had manipulated myself into doing what Leo wanted without even knowing I was doing it. And he’d been so bloody patronising too. You’ve done so well. I’m not twelve.

  I felt a bit sick. And, if Kokorakis was the higher society Leo wanted to be in with, then I wasn’t at all sure he was a person I wanted in my new life. Never mind how beautiful his arms were. And I hated the cigarettes. I actually can’t stand smoking. I’d tried to ignore it, but it wouldn’t go away. He smelled.

  I put the overhead light on in the kitchen to illuminate the darkening garden, and attempted to cover the seedlings in the cloches to save them from the birds. My earlier good mood had vanished. I wasn’t at all sure I liked Leo Arakis, even if my body betrayed me every time he looked at me. I reminded myself that right at the start of this affair, only a week or so ago, I knew that Leo was not a keeper, and that I should play, enjoy, then move on. So that’s what I would do, I’d take my own advice for once. I wished I hadn’t invited him to the party, but it was too late now, he was coming.

  14

  On Monday morning, response to Delphine written, I added my phone number and sealed it in an envelope. Then, on impulse, I pulled on a jacket and set out into the chill morning sunshine to walk up the road and see what her house looked like. I knew there was a large wall surrounding the property, and I’d had a look on Google Maps to get a feel for the size, but nothing beats seeing it yourself. It was a pleasant walk. When I complain about the hill, it isn’t actually a hill, it’s more of a slope, but I’m so unfit it feels like a mountain track. The road only starts getting steeper as it heads up into the White Mountains which stand over us all in Kissamos. They took my eye every time I looked up, like a full moon does on a clear night. Tops spar
kling with snow, sunlight creating dark shadows, the mountains were the permanent face of the island.

  I stopped outside the wrought-iron gate and peered in through the bars. The house had been built in the nineties, I guessed. It was all huge windows, concrete and glass. The original house stood off to the left, a more typical Greek villa with verandahs and smaller windows to keep out the heat. The main house was definitely more the status symbol of a successful man, but I thought it was interesting that Kokorakis had kept his old home. A tie to a simpler past, perhaps.

  I pushed the envelope into the mailbox and wandered back down the hill towards Maria’s. I wanted to support her but not get involved with Spiros. I was worried that I might say something I shouldn’t. I walked a bit further and thought a bit harder. Spiros was being punished enough, wasn’t he? I couldn’t see anybody else wanting to employ him now that Kokorakis had let him go. And I should support my friend. I doubted she had wanted to spy for Kokorakis, and deep down, I didn’t believe Spiros had intended to set the fire.