Chapter 41
Max
I’m not sure I ever understood until now what it really means to feel two things at once.
But as we head to the airport together, I feel like I have two separate lives.
On the one hand, I’m living a dream I never thought possible, with my dream man right beside me.
On the other hand, I’m bitterly sad knowing that for all its hope and potential, this situation is not going to work out in a way that is acceptable for either of us.
I’m shocked by how much it moves me to know that Hunter supports my dreams. When I backed him for his auditions, it felt like the natural thing to do.
But now that I’m on the receiving end, I appreciate what a gift it is.
It breaks my heart how much he’s rooting for me to get the job that might permanently set my life on a different path from his.
I keep waiting for the moment when I realise this isn’t what I want, that I’d be happier staying in London with Hunter, but somewhat inconveniently, I appear to have given up lying to myself.
As we arrive at the airport, I notice that Hunter has gone quiet.
‘Are you all right?’ I ask.
He looks away. He clearly doesn’t want to burden me with whatever it is, but I wait for him to open up.
‘What if they quiz us at customs?’ Hunter says fretfully. ‘What if they find us out this time?’
‘They won’t.’
‘They’ll smell my fear a mile off. I always feel guilty passing through customs, even when I haven’t done anything wrong.’
I’m filled with a wave of sympathy. ‘That’s how they want you to feel.’
I squeeze his hand. ‘We’ll be fine. No country cares about who’s leaving it.’
‘So what, they’ll arrest us when we get home?’
‘No. We convinced them. We’re safe.’
It’s not that I’m a hundred per cent confident. But I can see how much Hunter needs my reassurance. Thankfully, we make it through customs unscathed. As we arrive at the check-in gate with more than an hour to spare, there’s Quentin, slumped in his seat and staring into space.
He looks even more crushed than the other day in the office. We approach tentatively, but when he notices us, he barely reacts.
‘Where’s Flora?’ I ask cheerily.
Quentin’s expression darkens. ‘She’s not coming.’
I share a look with Hunter. We take seats on either side of Quentin. He continues to stare directly ahead. ‘She had an epiphany at Chevening. She’s decided her future lies elsewhere. She wants to rediscover herself or some nonsense.’
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Quentin and Flora are an institution. But maybe it’s not that surprising. Hunter said that when he spoke to Flora that day, she sounded worn down. She must have been stewing over this for a long time.
‘How are you doing?’ I ask with sympathy.
‘How do you think?’ Quentin snaps.
He has a point. He’s hardly trying to hide it.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I say. ‘But look, you can do this. All you have to do in the next twenty-four hours is get through it.’
Unfortunately, that’s not all Quentin has to do. He has to be at his best in a high stakes interview in a foreign country for an extremely competitive position. Early signs suggest that might be a challenge for him.
When our flight is announced, Quentin needs to be virtually lifted out of his seat and onto the plane. It was always evident how much he and Flora were glued together, how reliant he was on her, but for that reason I never stopped to picture what he would be like without her.
The answer, of course, is barely functional.
I feel so bad for him that it’s only once we’re in the air that it occurs to me what this means for my chances.
It’s a good thing, surely. Even if Quentin does manage to get himself into a positive state of mind, he’s simply not capable of acting without Flora’s guidance.
He’s not that good. I’ve got to be the favourite now – a status that gives me incredibly mixed feelings.
To distract myself, I suggest that we watch Mamma Mia on the in-flight entertainment.
I thought it would be the perfect escapism, but every time Pierce Brosnan opens his mouth to sing and Hunter mimes shooting himself in the head, it’s a dagger to my heart.
I used to dream of having a boyfriend to travel with.
It always felt like one of the most magical things you could do with your time on earth, to have someone by your side as you soared above the clouds and discovered new horizons.
Now I’ve got that. I’m living that dream.
And while I might not have imagined that the dream would involve laughing over the vocal flaws of Hollywood actors en route to a job interview in Athens, I know perfect happiness when I see it.
This is precisely the kind of moment my dad told me to enjoy while I had the chance. But I can’t. I don’t know how. For all that I treasure this time with Hunter, I just can’t shake the thought that my dream job and my dream man don’t go together, no matter how I spin it.
When we land, we get into a taxi with Quentin and hurtle through the urban sprawl of outer Athens and past the historical centre to the harbour.
The Embassy has arranged for me and Quentin and our guests to have a boat trip to a nearby island.
When I saw the schedule, I thought it might be a nice little trip for the four of us.
But without Flora, this could be awkward.
The taxi drops us off near a small boat. The skipper is a weather-beaten man in his sixties called Angelo who reminds me of my dad if he had spent his life under the Mediterranean sun rather than the English clouds.
We board the boat and it sets sail, leaving behind the harbour’s industrial cranes and clanking machinery in favour of the Aegean’s shifting shades of turquoise and deep blue.
Quentin and Hunter take a seat at the front, but I find myself drawn to Angelo, so sit at the back with him.
He’s happy to chat over the roar of the motor, but when I tell him about my job, he tenses.
‘You’re part of that trade deal?’ he asks gruffly.
I hesitate, unnerved.
‘I was involved, yeah.’
Angelo scowls and looks away.
‘Are you not happy about it?’ I ask.
Angelo laughs. ‘Have you spoken to any of the ship workers?’
‘Er, I haven’t had the chance. But tell me.’
Angelo shakes his head angrily. ‘It’s nothing we haven’t seen before from this government. They will make money from the deal. We will make less than we do now.’
I frown. This is the opposite of what I’ve been hearing for the past year.
‘But . . . that wasn’t the plan.’
‘No.’ He gives me a world-weary look. ‘It never is.’
I do my best to persuade Angelo that there are plenty of upsides for the Greek shipbuilding industry.
But he tells me that none of them will filter down to the workers.
It’s hard to argue with him. For all the stakeholder meetings and cross-cultural exchanges we’ve had over the past year, he’s right – none of them involved any of the people on the ground.
I encourage him to make his views known to the government, and he claims that he will.
But I’m relieved when our destination comes into view – a perfect dome of low green hills dense with pine trees rising from rocky shores.
The sea calms as we enter a pristine cove, the water clear enough to see pink fish darting over white sand. The yacht nudges into its docking post.
‘Welcome to paradise,’ says Angelo.
As soon as he turns off the engine, I hear cicadas, distant birdsong, and the gentle slap of water on the boat’s hull.
Angelo heads off, promising to return in a couple of hours, and we walk along a rustic jetty that leads to a shack with an open bar and a barbecue where lamb chops are on the grill.
I peer into the trees beyond the beach and notice deer resting in the shade and peacocks pecking at the dusty ground.
I feel like we’re interrupting their calm, but they strut towards us with curiosity.
Quentin announces that he’s going to hike to the top of the island. I suggest that might not be the best idea in this heat, but he sets off before we can stop him.
As we pad down to the water’s edge, Hunter rests a hand on my shoulder. ‘Are you OK?’
I shrug. ‘Bit of a weird conversation on the way over.’
‘Yeah, I sensed that.’
‘It’s fine. But he wasn’t a fan.’
Hunter frowns. ‘Of what?’
‘The trade deal.’
Hunter smiles. ‘So you met the Greek version of a grumpy taxi driver. It’s not your job to keep him happy.’
He’s right, but that doesn’t bring me any comfort.
‘Seriously, Max, I love that you care. But forget about it just for a minute. Look where we are!’
I take in the scene and see how right he is. Not only our surroundings but the fact that we’re here together.
We decide to go for a swim while a chef prepares our lunch.
The water is warmer than any sea I’ve ever been in.
Warmer than some baths I’ve had. Hunter floats on his back and closes his eyes as I bob beside him.
Feeling the powdery sand between my toes and the sun on my face, looking at the beautiful man in front of me, I’m finally able to relax.
My future with Hunter is as uncertain as it’s ever been.
But right now, in this moment, I couldn’t ask for more.
Eventually, my feet start to wrinkle, and Hunter and I come in from the water.
We’re wrapped in towels, devouring our lamb kebabs, when Quentin stumbles out of the woods.
As I look up at him, I almost gasp. He’s managed to burn himself so badly that he’s turned the shade of beetroot.
His lips are chapped and there’s a glazed look in his eyes. He can barely stand upright.
‘Damn, Quentin, have some water,’ says Hunter, leaping up and pouring him a glass.
‘I made it!’ says Quentin. ‘I made it to the top.’
He bends down to rub his knee, and I notice that it’s badly scraped.
‘What happened?’ I ask.
‘I’m fine,’ says Quentin. ‘Had a little run-in with a peacock, that’s all.’
He offers us a deranged grin.