Chapter Fifty
Fifty
Skye spotted her mother immediately.
She was sitting at one of the indoor tables, a laptop open in front of her and a look of studied concentration on her face.
“Oh, good,” she said, barely glancing up as Skye slid into the seat opposite. “I was hoping you’d roll up at some point this morning.”
“I got held up,” Skye said. She explained briefly about the police. “I thought you might’ve been having a lie-in.”
Her mother blinked at her.
“When have you ever known me to have one of those?”
“Well, not often, but—”
“There’s far too much to do to waste time sleeping. I’ve been here since six. Luckily, Pantelis was here. He very kindly let me in and made me coffee. In fact, I’ve had rather a lot. They make it strong here, don’t they?”
At the mention of his name, the taverna owner materialized beside the table. Solidly built with large, wide-set eyes, full lips, and thick, straight hair, Pantelis had the easy charm of a Labrador. Skye was sure that if he’d had a tail, it would be perpetually wagging.
“Kaliméra,” he said, propping a menu in front of her. “Frappé?”
“Please. I mean, parakaló.” She smiled up at him. “Milk and sugar.”
“Entáxei.”
He turned toward her mother, pencil tapping against his small notepad.
“I’m fine for now,” she trilled. “We’ve been chatting at length,” she told Skye as Pantelis strode briskly away. “Did you know, for instance, that Folegandros began as an asylum for those banished from Crete? It started life as a place for runaways and miscreants.”
“I guess that’s appropriate.”
“I rather thought so,” her mum said cheerfully. “Now, we had better discuss this situation with Martyn.”
She had sluiced seamlessly into professional mode, and looked the part, too. Her blond bob neatly straightened, the blouse and slacks immaculately pressed. In her crumpled shorts and ratty sneakers, Skye felt teenaged by comparison.
“What he said,” she said hesitantly, “last night, about me hating you, it’s not true.”
A flicker of pain passed across her mother’s face, gone almost before it surfaced.
“I mean it,” Skye went on. “I know we’ve had ups and downs, that things have been strained between us, but I don’t hate you, categorically not.”
Her mother nodded, though her eyes darted away, fixed on something beyond the boundaries of the taverna. Silence hovered for a moment, only to be shattered by a returning Pantelis. He put down Skye’s frappé along with bowls of fresh fruit topped with yogurt and honey.
“On the house,” he said. “To welcome your mother to the island.”
Cassandra began to flap her hands in protest.
“There’s no point arguing,” Skye said. “The first thing I learned when I moved here was that real Greeks like to eat. The wisest thing you can do is enjoy it.”
“Bravo!” Pantelis agreed.
Skye picked up her spoon as he weaved away through the tables.
“I think it’s best if I come clean,” she said, “about the Rolex.”
Her mother closed the lid of her laptop and pushed it to one side.
“Yes,” she agreed. “I think you’d better.”
Once Skye began talking, the words spilled out more easily than she expected.
She began with the watch, how she’d taken it, sold it, used the money to escape.
Then, more slowly, the rest followed. The way Martyn’s small complaints had started to build.
How, over time, his niggles had become demands, how she’d let them grow until they’d crowded out everything else.
“I feel as if I sleepwalked into it,” she admitted.
“After Dad, I just felt so numb. The grief took over; it dulled my instincts. I knew, deep down, that there was something not quite right with Martyn, but I ignored it. I feel embarrassed, to be honest. You and Dad raised me to be independent, to have self-respect, to not put up with anyone who’d set out to do me harm. ”
“Well,” her mother said quietly, “you didn’t, did you? Look where you are now.”
Skye pushed segments of orange around in her bowl.
“I suppose so,” she said. “But it shouldn’t have taken me as long as it did.”
“For what it’s worth, I think what you’ve done is very brave,” Cassandra told her, “though I still wish you’d told me.”
The taverna was growing busier. Vacationers who’d strayed from Chora, locals with newspapers tucked under their arms. At the deep bellow of a familiar Greek voice, Skye swung around, but it was only Klodi, handing over a delivery of fresh fish.
“I didn’t think I could tell you,” she said. “The few times Martyn and I argued in front of you, you always took his side. That was how it felt. I thought that if I told you about my plans to leave him, you’d convince me to stay—or worse, tip him off. I’m sorry, but I couldn’t risk that happening.”
“No,” her mother said. “It’s me who’s sorry. Sorry that you felt you couldn’t trust me, but also that you went through all this. Honestly, I could wring his bloody neck.”
Shocked laughter burst from Skye.
“Please, don’t do that,” she said. “I’m not sure I’m rich enough to fly over every month and visit you in prison.”
“Yes, well,” her mum said darkly, “violence is never the answer. Fortunately, I have something far more satisfactory in mind. I’ve been doing some research into your estranged husband this morning.
As it transpires, there have been quite a few bad reviews posted online about the charter company he works for. ”
Skye pushed her empty bowl aside.
“Tell me more.”
“There are a handful that mention awful food, late departures, and all the usual stuff you’d expect to see. However, this one caught my eye,” she said, pushing the laptop round. “Have a read. Tell me what you think.”
Avoid Sky High at All Costs (1 out of 5 stars)
I booked a private round trip with Sky High for myself and my family, flying from Dublin over to Cheltenham in March, and while the trip itself was smooth and the plane comfortable, we came away extremely upset.
An item of luggage belonging to my elderly mother-in-law was deemed “too large” to fit into the cabin, and the steward removed it not long before takeoff to stow in the hold.
We were assured the case would be safe, though when we returned home having collected it, a number of pieces of jewelry were missing, including a rare antique diamond ring my mother-in-law inherited from her late grandmother and an emerald pendant bought as a birthday gift by my wife.
Upon complaining to the company, we were assured by the pilot himself that an extensive search would be made, though neither item was recovered.
Luckily, we have a robust insurance policy, though remuneration alone cannot replace treasured heirlooms or gifts.
I am not usually one to cast aspersions, though it appears clear to me that someone either working for Sky High or adjacent to the company is operating as a thief.
Skye looked at her mum.
“So someone at Sky High is stealing.”
“Indeed,” Cassandra said. “That someone being Martyn?”
“Are there any more reviews?” Skye asked. “Any that mention a watch going missing?”
“No,” her mother said thoughtfully. “Though you know what they say about smoke. And it’s odd, the way he’s being so utterly insistent about that watch in particular. You said it was an unwanted gift?”
“That’s what he told me,” Skye said. “I agree that it’s odd. But even if we’re right and he did steal the Rolex, there’s no possible way we can prove it.”
“Maybe not,” her mother said, “but we can try.”
Skye checked the time. It was nearing eleven.
“We haven’t got much time,” she said. “I could try to make him admit it, perhaps record him confessing and use it as leverage? He’s unlikely to fall for that, though.”
“Perhaps all you need to do is mention your suspicions?” her mother suggested. “Might be enough to get him to back off.”
“But if he is a thief, we can’t let him get away with it,” Skye protested. “What about the future customers of Sky High and the next woman he charms into trusting him? He needs to be stopped.”
“You’re right.” Her mother closed the laptop. “But how?”
“I think,” Skye said cautiously, “I have a plan that might just work. But we won’t be able to do it alone.”
“OK, so do you know anyone who might help us?” she asked.
Skye gave in to slow smile.
“Oh yes,” she said. “I know a few people.”