Chapter 45
45
KASSIOPI CASTLE, KASSIOPI
‘OK, if we put the foundation bottle on that rock over there and we put the eye palette here, the backdrop will be stunning,’ Siobhan said early the following morning. As the sun rose over the glistening water in the harbour she and Molly were taking more content of Mollify products. But, as confident as Molly was with her brand, there wasn’t any make-up in the world that was going to hide her sore puffy eyes from all the crying she’d done with her mum last night.
‘And, just so you know, when I told you the woman with the flying dresses was super-keen to work with us, I mean she was super-keen. She loved what the brand stood for, she loved everything about it,’ Siobhan continued. ‘OK, so what are you looking at that’s got you distracted from this beautiful sunrise that’s going to pop more than Ana De Armas’s eyes?’ She sat down on the low wall next to Molly.
Molly turned her phone.
‘Freya Johnson?’ Siobhan asked. ‘Isn’t she the woman who’s married to Hollywood royalty, Nicholas Kaden?’
‘Oh, Siobhan! Yes, she’s married to Nicholas Kaden, but she’s a talented and successful woman in her own right. Not only is she the founder and owner of one of the world’s ultimate photography studios, she also gives crazy-good opportunities to talented novices, she has her own clothing line focusing on plus-size fashion and she’s the face of Quick Takeout. Oh, and a mum of three. And, she has a holiday home right here. And I do mean right here. See that villa up over there on the headland?’ Molly pointed.
‘Oh, God! The one I’ve had deep envy of every time I’ve squeezed out onto our balcony?’ Siobhan asked.
‘That’s the one,’ Molly said, nodding.
‘And you’re looking at her, why?’
‘Because,’ Molly began. ‘I want her to be an ambassador for Mollify.’
‘Wow, OK,’ Siobhan said, sounding as hesitant as she had ever heard her friend be.
‘You don’t agree she would be a good choice?’ Molly asked.
‘No, I mean, I obviously know a bit more about her husband than her, I just… well, the other celebrities and influencers you’ve targeted have been the kind who have been on reality shows and are grateful to advertise healthy food boxes. You said it yourself, she’s worldwide famous not just UK-I-once-did-Deal-Or-No-Deal famous.’
‘And that’s a bad thing?’ Molly queried.
‘No,’ Siobhan said. ‘Only that it’s like going for Beyoncé when you’ve been chasing people like Gemma Collins.’
Molly knew what Siobhan was saying, but after all the talking she had done with her mum last night, all the revelations, all the crying and processing and desperate soul-searching, she had been struck with so many feelings. But, most of all, she’d got an overwhelming sense of relief. It was almost like the weight of the not-knowing, the intrinsic desire to know had wrapped around her whole self like thick, binding vines and now she’d been cut loose. It had helped her see everything so much more clearly, including her business.
‘I know,’ Molly agreed, nodding. ‘And why was I doing that? Because, if I think Mollify is only B-list worthy, then what message is that sending out?’ She picked up one of her foundation bottles. ‘Yes, it’s not Dior, it’s not high-ticket and it’s not meant to be… but it’s quality. It’s affordable quality doing something new and it’s for people like us, people like me who used make-up like… a power tool.’
Siobhan frowned. ‘Drills? Screwdrivers?’ She sniffed. ‘Actually now I’m thinking about cocktails.’
‘I think Mollify will appeal to Freya Johnson. She’s someone who was born into a wealthy family and then defied them, went to prison for setting fire to their home, re-invented herself completely and worked her way up to having her own small photography business and never compromised on who she wanted to be. She’s a powerful entrepreneur who still greets the paparazzi in pyjamas or joggers and doesn’t give one shit about who society thinks she should be.’
‘Define. Defy. Mollify,’ Siobhan said in that cinematic voice again.
‘Exactly!’ Molly exclaimed. ‘So, I am going to reach out on socials and, if I can get an email of anyone even remotely close to her I am going to bombard them – professionally of course – until I make this happen.’
‘Well,’ Siobhan said. ‘Even if she isn’t in Corfu right now, her house is just over there.’ She pointed. ‘Someone has to be looking after the property and will answer the doorbell, right?’
The Molly who didn’t know who her dad was, the one who was always polite to the point of missing out on opportunities because someone else was louder or pushier or more confident would have second-guessed turning up at someone’s front gate. But this was the day after the night before and everything felt different.
‘You’re absolutely right. So, when we’ve got these photos right we can both do a deep dive on Freya Johnson and work out the perfect way to get her or her housekeeper’s only answer to be yes.’
Molly put her phone in the pocket of her shorts and turned to her beauty bag of products on the wall of the castle ruins.
‘So,’ Siobhan said. ‘Now we’ve got that idea going, do you want to tell me what happened last night?’
There was no point telling her closest friend that nothing had happened but, equally, the thought of saying her mother’s words out loud to someone else wasn’t something she felt ready for right in this moment.
‘I mean it wasn’t like normal,’ Siobhan continued. ‘Even normal when you’ve had a big fight and your mum’s yelling things like “after all I’ve done for you” and you’re saying “I never wanted the pharmacy job anyway”. It was all very polite but with telltale crying signs. Nasal talking, eyes that look like zombies, snot?—’
‘OK, you can stop now,’ Molly said. ‘It’s ruining the sunrise.’
‘I prefer the shouting. It feels less serious than polite.’
‘We’re fine,’ Molly said, sitting on the wall and adjusting their display of products a little. ‘We’re better than fine, actually.’ She exhaled as she looked out across the rooftops, down over verandas and washing lines still harbouring clothes from the night before, to thick pots teeming with colour. ‘And… I know who my father is.’
‘Wait, what?! Are you serious?’
Molly nodded. It was true. She knew and, this time, there was not one doubt in her mind that her mum was telling her the absolute truth.
‘It’s Vaggelis, isn’t it?’ Siobhan said. ‘Aww, I knew it, you know. I mean, no one leaves a whole lot of something to someone they aren’t related to. Shit! Are you related to Christos?! Wait, no, Vaggelis was his godfather, right? That doesn’t have a different meaning in Greek, does it? And?—’
Molly put a hand on her friend’s arm. ‘It’s not Vaggelis.’
‘What? No! I don’t believe it but, who is it then?’
She took a deep breath. ‘It’s hard to say this to you, but I need to sit with it for a bit before I tell you. It’s complicated and it’s fresh and I’m trying to come to terms with knowing the truth but, you know, knowing has helped me see things more clearly, realise what’s really important.’
Siobhan put her hand over Molly’s, interlocking their fingers and crushing them slightly. ‘I know I’m impatient AF but… OK, I get it, I won’t ask you every five minutes. Ten maybe, but you tell me no.’
‘Thanks, Siobhan,’ Molly said, squeezing her hand. ‘And thank you for everything you do for me and Mollify. I couldn’t have got this far without you and I so appreciate that and?—’
‘And when we’ve got Freya Johnson on board you are going to make sure we get invited to the next red carpet Hollywood event.’
‘I will do my very best.’
‘And distract her long enough so I can get a selfie with her husband who is almost as hot in the older guy stakes as Mads Mikkelsen.’
‘It’s getting weird now, Siobhan,’ Molly said. ‘Especially if we’re talking about ringing their doorbell.’
‘OK, OK,’ Siobhan said, grinning. ‘Soooo, if I can’t ask about your dad… what about your daddy? Because you and Christos are definitely something, right?’
Molly smiled, her gaze going to the now-risen sun giving the harbour views a warming glow. ‘Never say that sentence again. Please.’ But inside, she couldn’t deny that even amid everything, with regard to Christos, her mum’s truth had really set her free to revisit their feelings. She couldn’t lie, it had felt a little weird to think they shared a father figure. But now the only things connecting them were half an apartment, half a boat, half a truck, half an olive tree and 25 per cent of Armeena thanks to a generous man she wished she had known better. A man who had photos of her, drawings she had done, pieces of her life like she now had pieces of his. The very first thing she was going to do when she felt the time was right was demand Vaggelis’s letters from Maud. Both her and her mum deserved those. And as for Christos, she couldn’t wait to tell him she was not entwined with his family the way they thought she was last night. She couldn’t wait to tell him that no matter how busy their schedules were, no matter what they did with Vaggelis’s things, she wanted to see where this beginning together went.
‘Come on, you have to give me a little tea! How is a girl supposed to survive?’ Siobhan asked.
‘How girls always survive,’ Molly said, picking up her phone and pressing for the camera.
‘ Emily in Paris and Original Pringles?’
‘No, Siobhan. Hard work,’ Molly said. ‘Now hand me the blush palette.’