Chapter Thirty-Four
Thirty-four
June passed its baton to July, and the new month strode out under a banner of blue.
For the first few days after the article appeared, Skye remained close to the house, preferring the security of doors she could lock and windows that fastened.
The weekend came and went, bringing with it no sign of Martyn, though he was not the only man to be notably absent from her life.
Andreas had not returned, and his replies to her messages were cool and detached.
When she called to ask if he would collect some cans of paint for her, his response was a sullen “Nai,” and it was Stamatis, not him, who’d turned up at her door with them that morning.
“Where’s the boss?” Skye asked.
Stamatis shrugged.
“Gone to the mainland.”
“Do you know when he’ll be back?”
“Perhaps a few days, perhaps longer.”
“Is he there for work, or…?”
Stamatis yawned.
“Never mind,” Skye said.
She was still brooding that afternoon when George arrived for his Wednesday lesson, followed soon after by Iris and Ajax, chaperoned over from the mini-market by Joy.
“Found these two nippers driving their mum up the wall,” she said as the three children ran out into the back garden. “Thought it wouldn’t hurt to bring them to class a bit early.”
“If only I had a classroom,” Skye said.
Joy bent to inspect the stack of paint cans, the straps of her brightly patterned dress slipping from her shoulders.
“ ‘Conch,’ ” she read aloud. “Why they can’t just call it peach, I’ll never know.”
“I thought you’d approve of pretentious names for colors,” Skye said. “Don’t all artists go on about burnt umbers and morning-room greens?”
“Some,” Joy agreed, “but not all—and not bloody me. A spade’s a spade, a shrimp’s a shrimp, and this color is one hundred percent peach.”
“I hope I ordered enough,” Skye mused. “It’s going to take me forever to paint the entire bedroom.”
Joy broke into a grin.
“Not if you bag yourself a few helpers,” she said.
Skye rounded up George, Iris, and Ajax while Joy hurried home to pick up some paint-stained T-shirts for the children to wear over their clothes. Once upstairs, they pushed the furniture into the center of the room and spread dust sheets across the floor.
“This is your wall,” Skye told George, handing him a brush. “It’s up to you what you do. You can paint something or practice your fractions or write a poem. Whatever you want.”
George shook his mop of unruly curls from over his eyes.
“And I can just paint it all over the wall?”
In answer, Skye dipped her own brush into the open can and drew a large, rather crude daisy below the window.
“Sick,” George said. “I’m going to do a rocket.”
Ajax withdrew his finger from his nose, while Iris fussed with the hem of her oversized T-shirt. The fabric fell well past her knees, her bare feet poking out beneath it.
“Joy is going to paint some animals,” Skye told them, “and I’m going to teach you the English names for them.”
In a few quick strokes, the head of an elephant appeared on the wall in front of them.
“Eléfantas!” Ajax cried.
Skye printed the word below the image and encouraged the two children to do the same. Soon they had a cat, a dog, a chicken, a crocodile, and a giraffe as well, and one wall was almost entirely covered in paint. George had nearly completed his rocket and was busy adding faces to the small windows.
“That’s me, Dad, and Mum,” he said.
Skye and Joy exchanged a look.
“Shall I do some planets?” he went on. “Did you know it’s really windy on Saturn? Dad said it might even be windier than it is here.”
“Surely not?” Joy said, squatting to paint a beetle.
“Skathári!” Iris chimed.
—
“We make a good team, don’t we?” Skye said to Joy a few hours later.
The children were sitting happily on a blanket in the back garden, slices of fresh watermelon on a plate between them.
Ajax squealed as a butterfly landed on his outstretched leg, and George leaned in toward Iris, whispering something that made her giggle.
“Their English is coming along quick,” Joy appraised.
“I think that’s probably due more to George than me,” Skye said. “They have far more desire to talk to him, and he’s picked up a lot of Greek from Theo, which makes it easier.”
“You’ll make a teacher out of him yet,” Joy replied. “I’d be willing to bet there are loads of Greek kids on this island who would benefit from lessons here with you.”
“I’d love to open my own little school,” Skye admitted. “But where?”
Joy fell silent, her eyes wandering past the edge of the garden to the house beyond, with its large, empty outbuilding.
“Do you think they’d let me?” Skye said.
Joy’s expression was caught between caution and optimism.
“All you can do is ask,” she said.
Skye left her in charge of the three children and ventured the short distance to Adam and Victoria’s front door. Nobody came in answer to her knocking, though she could hear music playing inside, along with a woman’s voice, low and sultry.
“Press firmly into your forearms, drawing the shoulder blades down your back.”
Skye rapped her knuckles against the wood once more, and this time, the door opened.
“Sorry,” Victoria said, her face flushed. “I was just attempting a Pincha Mayurasana, but I’ve lost so much core strength since I— Anyway, what can I help you with?”
“A Pincha Mayu-what?” Skye said.
“Oh, sorry, I forget you’re not a yogi. That’s a forearm stand, pretty standard stuff.
I used to do them all the time, but I guess I’ve lost the knack.
” She tugged at her hair band, sweat glinting on her chest and shoulders.
In a sports bra and skintight shorts, she looked as though she could outrun the sun.
Skye became keenly aware of her paint-splattered shorts and tee, glad she’d put on sneakers to hide her unmanicured toenails.
The recorded voice was still talking.
“From Dolphin Pose, shift your weight onto your forearms and begin to lift your hips toward the ceiling.”
“I’m interrupting you.” Skye started to retreat, but Victoria made a grab for her.
“Please stay. It’ll give the perfect excuse to take a break. Between you and me, this woman is making me feel pretty rotten about myself. Any more advanced yoga, and I’ll be about ready to scream, and I don’t think that’s quite the vibe I’m supposed to be going for.”
Skye followed her through the airy living space, which had been tastefully furnished with expensive-looking rugs, tile-topped side tables, a vast blue sideboard, and several oversized lamps.
Instead of sofas, there were a tan leather recliner and a patterned chaise longue, each draped with a soft cream blanket.
In the corner, on the wall near the ceiling, an air-conditioning unit hummed gently.
“It’s been so hot, hasn’t it?” Victoria said, bending to pause the video playing on her laptop. The woman on the screen was frozen in place, head down and a single leg in the air.
“I’ve been down to the beach most mornings for a swim. It’s the only time of day that I can bear it. Have you got down there much?”
“Not as much as I’d like,” Skye admitted as they headed into the kitchen.
“Want a smoothie?” Victoria offered.
“Oh, no thanks.”
“It’s my own concoction,” she needled, waving a banana at Skye.
“You wouldn’t think it to look in my fridge, but I’m actually not a great fan of fruit.
I get around it by adding a ton of honey.
Enough of that, and you can crush up whatever you want and put it in there—calcium, collagen, beta-carotene, a little melatonin. ”
Skye raised an eyebrow. “I’ll take your word for it,” she said.
Victoria dropped several ice cubes into a jug, along with a slosh of almond milk and a heaping tablespoon of smooth peanut butter that had taken on a rather tar-like consistency.
“There was a time when I was taking so much medication, I had to make a chart,” Victoria said blithely. “I used to say to Adam, ‘Shake me and I’ll rattle.’ ”
“Were you ill?” Skye asked.
“Nah.” Victoria opened a cupboard, rifled around for a while, then let out an “Aha, there you are!” before reemerging with a bag of protein powder. Banana pie flavor. Skye’s stomach churned along with the blender.
“Sure I can’t tempt you?” Victoria said. The smoothie was the exact color and consistency of wallpaper paste.
“I’m sure,” she said hastily. “Shall we go outside?”
The only shaded area was toward the back of the long garden, between the outbuilding and the mottled wall beyond.
“Any idea what you’re going to use this barn for?” Skye asked, careful to keep her tone neutral.
Victoria tapped a finger against her lips, brow furrowing.
“Adam has some kind of idea about a darkroom, but I don’t know. Feels a bit silly to me, when everything is digitalized these days. I guess it could be an exercise studio, but that would be expensive, and we may not even stay here past the two years.”
Skye crossed to the outbuilding and peered through one of the dust-coated windows. Inside, the wide space was clear of junk, and she could see no holes in the walls or cracks in the ceiling. All it would require would be a sweep, a spruce, a few bits of furniture.
“I was wondering…” She turned back to Victoria, who had taken a large sip of her drink and seemed to be having some trouble convincing herself to swallow it. “If you’d let me use it from time to time?”
“Sure,” Victoria said through a grimace. “I mean, I’d have to check in with Adam, but I can’t see it being a problem. What do you want it for?”
“That’s the thing,” she said. “It’s not strictly for me. I don’t know if you’ve heard that I’ve been teaching George?”
Victoria shifted in her flip-flops.
“I heard.”
“Well, it would be great to have a classroom. Somewhere where I can set things up.”
“You want this whole area just for George?”
“And Iris and Ajax—you know, from the shop? I’ve started teaching them English, and I suspect there might be quite a few children on the island who could benefit from some extra schooling. If I had the space, then—”
“I don’t think so,” Victoria said.
“It wouldn’t be every day,” Skye hastened. “Only a few times a week, and I’d make sure we kept the noise down.”
“One kid is fine,” she said. “A whole bunch of them? No way.”
“How about three?” Skye said tentatively, but Victoria shook her head.
“Sorry,” she said. “It’s not that I—I just— You’ll have to find some other place.”
“Oh. OK.” Skye fell silent, at a loss for how to respond.
Victoria’s entire demeanor had changed, her easy slouch replaced by a stillness that felt almost brittle.
Was it Adam she was worried about? Was he so averse to noise that he wouldn’t be able to focus if a few children occasionally passed through?
But that made no sense, not from a couple who until recently had been living in one of the busiest—and loudest—cities in the world.
Maybe they simply didn’t like children, although that seemed ridiculous.
“I should get back to my yoga,” Victoria said briskly. “Unless there was anything else?”
Skye shook her head, words scattering before she could gather them. Moments later, she found herself out on the hillside again, the sky too bright, too empty.
She had the creeping sense that whatever had passed between them, whatever had sharpened the edges of Victoria’s mood, was only the surface of something much deeper.