Chapter 8
Thought of the day…
You’re now free to live life on your own terms.
Anyone who says otherwise can sod off.
(This applies, even if you have no bloody idea what your terms actually are.)
The rest of the meal was just as extraordinary as the lobster.
For our main, we had slow-roasted Cycladic lamb with fava purée and roasted cherry tomatoes (without question the best lamb I’ve ever had – and I may exaggerate on occasion, but not this time) and for dessert, panna cotta with honey and fig compote, the dish I’d salivated over the night before.
It was just gorgeous – I would have licked the plate clean if I’d been at home on my own.
And after we salvaged the conversation, we kept it light, talking sports and travel and our favourite books – though between us, we’d only read seven in the past year and five of those were mine.
We even ventured into ‘remember that time when…’ territory. It was a daring move considering how dinner began, but worth the risk, as we ended up in fits of laughter.
It was a trip to Morocco. Julian was there for work, and I tagged along so we could spend the weekend together exploring.
We got lost in the souk – as one does – and eventually, we asked one of the shopkeepers the way out.
Rookie mistake. We ended up with six hand-painted bowls, three shawls, a tea set, and a bag of almond-stuffed dates.
And he only sold shawls. Those shopkeepers saw us coming from a mile away.
And they sent us in the wrong direction.
It was two hours before we got back to the hotel.
‘And you ate all the dates in the taxi,’ Julian accused.
‘Excuse me! I had one date, thank you very much. As I recall, you ate the rest because it had been a whole three hours since lunch and you were ravenous.’
He bellowed with laughter, and I chuckled along.
‘Fair, fair,’ he said between laughs. ‘It was a bloody good trip, though.’
‘Agreed.’
Our marriage had more downs than ups, but we’d had some fun times. And sitting across from Julian, looking so much like the man I’d fallen for, I reminded myself that people are never just one thing. We’re layered, multi-faceted, we evolve…
Julian wasn’t a bad person. He just wasn’t a good husband.
‘Oof,’ I said when the dessert plates were cleared. I patted my (completely stuffed) tum right as Julian lifted up the wine bottle.
‘You have the rest,’ I said. He tipped the dregs into his glass, then downed them in one.
That was my cue to leave, and I stood, collecting my clutch from the table. ‘Thank you for an incredible meal, Jules – and the lovely company.’
He remained seated, sending me a wry look. ‘No nightcap then?’ he asked, once our code for after-dinner sex.
‘No nightcap.’
‘In that case, I promise I won’t ask again,’ he said, a flash of sadness in his eyes.
I released an involuntary sigh. I hadn’t realised how much Julian’s advances were weighing on me. I’d been aware, of course – battle-ready to fend him off – but there was a toll, having to be that guarded.
I considered kissing his cheek but decided against it, instead giving him a smile, then beelining for my villa. It was still reasonably early and despite the full day and generous meal, I was wide awake – must have been the rush of endorphins from laughing with Julian.
I glanced at the short stack of books I’d brought. I’d had that exact same stack on my bedside table for months now, carting it with me whenever I travelled. Yet none of the titles felt right for the mood I was in.
So instead of reading, I ran a bath. While I waited for it to fill, I called Claude.
‘Hiya,’ she chirruped, signposting she was in a good mood.
‘Hiya.’
‘How’s paradise today?’ she asked.
‘It’s stunning. And I’ve seen the whole island now – well, the coastline. Still some exploring inland to do.’
I filled her in on the day’s events. Well, except that Tommy was on the island and that we’d spent the day together and had several terse exchanges. If Claude knew Tommy was there, she’d kick into concerned-big-sister mode and insist that I come home immediately.
I also omitted Julian’s romantic overtures – she’d only worry about that too. Besides, I’d dealt with the matter.
So what I gave her was a glorified travel log with detailed descriptions of the food – like an episode of Somebody Feed Phil but with me. Somebody Feed Ally.
‘It does sound lovely, Al. Maybe I should consider going – someday, I mean.’
‘Ah-hah – progress!’ I teased, and she laughed softly.
Sometimes it was hard to recall the girl she was before Gregory – or BG as we liked to call it.
But in our late teens and early twenties, Claude was a bit of a wild child – sneaking us into clubs with fake IDs, late-night skinny-dipping in our neighbour’s pool, even dancing on the bar once until a bouncer hauled her outside over his shoulder.
That Claude felt like a lifetime ago.
And how ironic that I’d helped thousands of people rediscover their spark, yet my own sister – the person closest to me – was still struggling to find hers. All I could do was love her fiercely for who she was, while giving her the odd gentle prod to try something new.
‘So, what’s on for tomorrow then?’ she asked, cutting across my thoughts.
‘Naxos – the nearest island.’
I heard the rustle of paper – she must have printed the itinerary.
‘Ooh, a cooking class. Now try not to set the kitchen alight.’
‘That was one time,’ I retorted. ‘And I was nine.’
‘We had to call the fire brigade.’
‘Again, I was nine.’
She laughed. If Claude outlives me, she’ll probably tell this story at my funeral.
‘And you’re sailing there – to Naxos?’ she asked, switching back to tomorrow’s plans.
‘Ah, nope. Going by helicopter.’
‘Mmm.’ A single syllable, yet it conveyed multitudes, Claude’s sisterly concern crossing two bodies of water and a continent to beam into my phone.
‘Perfectly safe,’ I assured her. ‘It’s how I got here, remember?’
‘Fine,’ she relented – as if it were up to her.
I didn’t care if I had to hitch a ride on the back of a seagull – I was going. Especially since Julian and Tommy weren’t. Naxos would be blissfully husband-free.
I suddenly remembered the bath and went to check it. It hadn’t overflowed, but it was close. I turned off the tap. ‘I’ve got to go – my bath’s ready,’ I said.
‘Talk tomorrow night?’ she asked, and it occurred to me that, selfishly, I hadn’t asked after her, not even her plans for the evening.
Although, Claude would be the first to admit that her Saturday nights were about as exciting as a trip to Tesco.
‘Will do my best,’ I replied, not wanting to lock something in. I had no idea how I’d feel tomorrow night. And maybe I’d be otherwise occupied with a Greek firefighter.
We ended the call and I shimmied out of my jumpsuit and slipped into that glorious bathtub, fragrant with the citrusy bath salts I’d liberally scattered into the water. I closed my eyes, releasing a delicious sigh.
It was Ally time, and anyone who dared to interrupt could bugger right off.
Even Tommy.
* * *
I woke Sunday morning well before sunrise after another fractured night’s sleep.
I thought I’d done everything right to sleep through the night – I stopped drinking a few hours before bed, I had a relaxing bath, I gave myself an orgasm…
But alas, I was painfully wide awake at 2 a.m., a burning question ricocheting around my mind: How the hell did Tommy end up on Aetheria?
When I eventually fell back asleep hours later, it was fitful and marred by disturbing dreams. All of them about Tommy.
Now it was nearly 6 a.m. and there was no sense in lying there stewing. I threw off the covers and drifted over to the coffee machine, made a double-shot espresso, then took it out to the porch. With the resort facing west, the sun was rising behind me, but it was still glorious to behold.
And as I sipped my coffee, my eyes drinking in the pale-blue sky streaked with ribbons of clouds in fiery yellows and oranges, I thought about Naxos. I’ve always enjoyed exploring new places.
Plus, it would be a reprieve from the stifling proximity to Tommy and Julian.
Only two days to go.
It was a comforting thought and if I focused on my professional obligations and did my best to avoid the exes, I’d be back in London before I knew it, unscathed by this bizarre set of circumstances.
I finished my coffee, then went inside to get ready.
Niki and Minh were coming along to capture the excursions for the campaign, including a cooking class at one of the restaurants in Chora, also called Old Town.
I had to be camera ready (as always), but at least I wouldn’t have to bare my boobs or arse cheeks.
I chose a pair of wide-leg cotton trousers in sunshine yellow and a gold woven-silk tank top, and because we’d be walking cobblestoned roads, sneakers.
I packed my small leather backpack with the essentials and walked down to the restaurant.
I had just enough time for breakfast before meeting Niki and Minh at the helipad.
‘Ally!’ Trudy waved vigorously from across the restaurant and I headed over, passing two other couples, who greeted me with friendly smiles.
‘Kalimera,’ I said to Trudy and Dale.
‘Kalimera. Would you care to join us?’ Dale offered.
‘Actually, that’d be lovely, thanks.’ I took the seat opposite Trudy. ‘Ooh,’ I said, eyeing her breakfast enviously. ‘That looks delicious.’
‘It’s the best Greek yogurt I’ve ever had – so creamy. And the figs! They’re to die for.’
A waiter approached, and I ordered another coffee and the same dish as Trudy.
‘So, what are you two up to today?’ I asked.
‘Unfortunately, I’ve got some pressing work matters to attend to,’ said Dale.
‘Oh? I thought you were retired,’ I replied.
‘So did I,’ Trudy said dryly – the only time I’d seen anything but a smile on her face.
‘I told you, honey, it’s just for today.’ He looked over at me. ‘It’s a little side project I’ve been working on for the past six months or so. Just need to tidy up some loose ends.’
Trudy pressed her lips together as if she was supressing a retort. In solidarity, I steered the conversation away from what was obviously a contentious topic. But I was fully on Trudy’s side when it came to a husband who worked too much – particularly while on holiday.
‘And what about you, Trudy?’ I asked as the waiter served my breakfast.
‘I’m going to Naxos. There’s a whole day planned,’ she said, throwing a pointed look towards Dale. ‘We’re touring an olive oil farm, then taking a cooking class…’
‘Well, you’ve got company, Trudy,’ I said with a grin.
‘Oh, you’re coming too?’ she asked excitedly.
‘Uh-huh.’
‘See, honey? You won’t be on your own after all,’ said Dale, and Trudy conceded with a slight lift of her shoulder.
‘Definitely not,’ I agreed. ‘And don’t be mad – I will be working, but it’s just some photos and a bit of filming.’
‘Oh, that doesn’t count,’ said Trudy with a wave of her hand.
I didn’t bother correcting her. Most people think my job is ninety per cent posing in front of a camera. Although, god knows what they think I do the other ten per cent of the time. Maybe practising posing. Hah!
‘I’m glad you’ll be there,’ I said. ‘And the more fun we have, the better for the PR campaign.’
She beamed at me. ‘Now, you go ahead and eat, hun,’ she said. ‘The helicopter’s picking us up in fifteen minutes.’
‘I’m going back to the villa – get started,’ said Dale, standing and pushing in his chair. ‘You two have fun now, and I’ll see you when you get back.’
He dropped an affectionate kiss on Trudy’s cheek. Her eyes closed for a moment, then she broke into one of her winsome smiles, peering up at him adoringly. Ooh, that tugged at my heartstrings – they really were adorable.
Trudy watched him walk away and it wouldn’t have surprised me if she’d sighed out loud with contentment. Dale disappeared through the archway and her focus returned to me.
‘I’m glad I have you to myself,’ she said, staring at me intently. ‘I have something to ask you.’
Uh-oh, it was hotseat time again. Yesterday, Niki had interrupted before Trudy could interrogate me, but she was nowhere to be seen. Not even Julian was around.
‘What’s that?’ I asked breezily before taking a big bite of my breakfast. I figured chewing and swallowing might buy me some time if I needed to formulate a satisfying answer.
‘It’s about you and Tom.’
I snorted with surprise and tried to swallow at the same time. That did not go well – I almost sprayed my mouthful over the table. I chewed some more, pressing my palm to my chest, then swallowed.
‘Sorry,’ I said, my voice raspy.
‘Here,’ she said, pouring me a glass of orange juice. I would have preferred water but I took it and drank some. It helped. But now I wasn’t about to choke, I couldn’t hold Trudy’s question at bay any longer.
I met her eye and put on a brave smile. ‘What about me and Tom?’
‘It’s just… did you realise that he was watching you yesterday?’
‘Watching me?’ I asked. It wasn’t the track I thought she’d go down.
‘Oh, not in a creepy way or anything,’ she said reassuringly. ‘Tom doesn’t seem like that kind of guy at all. But there were times when you were having your photo taken, or talking to Niki… and he’d be watching you… It was like he was fascinated by you, drawn to you even… You didn’t notice?’
‘No, I…’ No, Trudy, I didn’t notice that my one true love was watching me intently. ‘I didn’t see any of that.’
‘I think he might be sweet on you,’ she said, a glint in her eyes.
Bugger. Now Trudy was playing matchmaker – for me and my ex-husband.
If only she knew. And I’ll admit, I was disappointed.
I genuinely liked Trudy, and I’d thought that maybe we could become friends – proper friends, which are rare in my world.
But her well-meaning suspicions were skirting a little too close to the truth for comfort.
‘Oh, I doubt it,’ I said, forcing a smile and waving her off.
‘Ally,’ she said earnestly, ‘I know what I saw.’
And it was obvious from her self-satisfied expression that Trudy believed she’d gotten through to me, she’d convinced me. Convinced me that Tommy was interested in me. Hah!
Any moment now, a flock of flying pigs would pass overhead.