Tuesday 19th September
U nbelievable. Frigging unbelievable. Jo’s hand trembled as she gripped her phone. Even for Rees, this was… Words failed her. Tears scalded the backs of her eyes, but they were angry tears. God, she was furious and she would not let him do this.
I’ve sacked Curtis. We can’t afford a gardener if we don’t remortgage.
Not only was it a lie, but it was also out and out manipulation. But was that really anything new? Now she was beginning to truly understand that it had always been about power. He hadn’t chosen a much younger girlfriend to flatter his ego; he’d picked her for her na?vety. Had she ever said no to him, even in those early days? She couldn’t remember. It hadn’t been important. She hadn’t even wanted a boyfriend all that much.
She hadn’t wanted him until she’d needed him. Rees had propped her up so completely in the weeks and months following Pam’s death not just emotionally, but with all the practical things too– the practical things that had seemed almost impossible, like getting up for work, or cooking a meal, or paying the bills. At the time he’d been her rock. Now she saw him as a spider, weaving a web around her, taking away every last shred of independence she’d had.
Not that there’d been much to take. Timid little Jo. He must have sensed it right from the start. But she didn’t feel timid anymore. In her head, at least, she’d been rebelling against Rees for quite some time. At first it had seemed like a useless fantasy, but now she wondered if she had, in fact, been building her reserves of emotional strength. Waiting until she was brave enough to act.
First things first: Curtis.
Ignore Rees. No way are you sacked.
A wait. A very short one.
Don’t worry. If he says anything I’ll tell him I don’t take instructions from him.
So he hadn’t even… but then, he was a coward. Now she thought about it, no way would he want to get into any sort of confrontation with six feet of well-honed muscle. The tosser!
She typed again: So sorry. Misunderstanding on my part.
Jessica, is everything OK?
Jo pictured the concern in his deep brown eyes. She didn’t want to lie, but what could she say? Nothing. Nothing at all. Except…
Thanks for your understanding, it means a lot.
Cool. A pause. Hey– have a virtual hug if you need one.
Jo wrapped her arms around herself. Curtis cared. Karmela cared. Her mum certainly cared. But how could the bond between her and her mother ever be the same if she told her what she’d done? She’d betrayed her, lied to her– stolen from her, even, given that Mum had been the sole beneficiary of Pam’s will. Telling her was just too awful to contemplate.
But not telling her was worse. Karmela had shown her that. She had shown her that the only way to escape from Rees was to remove the hold he had over her. Well, either that, or murder him, which she really wanted to do after this morning’s antics. It wasn’t fair to drag Curtis into the crossfire but he’d made her do it. Manipulated her, yet again. Would it be for the very last time?
Jo pushed the chair back from the desk and stood at the window, gazing out over the courtyard. She could leave Rees; she knew she could. But she’d need her mother’s support, and that had to be based on the truth. Regardless of whether Rees would ever really spill the beans, her future couldn’t be built on a lie. She’d had enough of those. If she was going to move forwards, the skeleton needed to be out of the closet first.
Before she could change her mind, Jo grabbed her phone and called her mother. She may have written the most eloquent piece she’d managed in years yesterday, but some things needed to be said out loud.
Jo was relieved that when her mother answered the call she was in the conservatory at home, lounging in her favourite chair in front of the delicate pale purple flowers of the plumbago which was her pride and joy.
“Darling! How lovely to see your face.”
“Mum, I have something to tell you.”
Her mother sat up straighter. “What is it? Are you OK?”
“Yes, yes… I’m fine, but there’s something I should have told you… or rather… something I should never have done, but I did… and… oh, god, it’s such a horrendous mess…”
“Calm down, Jo. Breathe. Speak slowly.”
“And you’ll listen? Right to the end? Then you can get mad as hell, but please, first, hear me out.”
“Of course I will.” Mum’s voice was gentle and encouraging, but that wouldn’t last once she knew. Jo could only try to imagine how her mother might feel, what she might say, how angry she’d be. But already she’d gone beyond the point of no return. This had to be done.
“OK, OK. I didn’t write Only. Ever. You. Pam did.”
Her mother’s mouth hung open for a split second, but then it snapped shut and she nodded. “Go on.”
So Jo did, stating the facts, much as she’d told them to Karmela the morning before, all the time watching her mother’s impassive face all those miles away in Gloucestershire. What was she thinking? What was she going to say? Finally, Jo petered to a halt.
“There’s a lot to take in, I know,” she finished. “And saying I’m sorry, well, it doesn’t feel adequate.”
Mum nodded slowly. “I’ve always assumed that Pam influenced the book, and probably even helped you with the setting and characterisation. Maybe I should have seen it went further than that but I never knew Pam was in love. She was my best friend and she didn’t tell me, and right now that hurts more than anything.”
“I’m so sorry, Mum.”
“It isn’t your fault. And I know, once I get used to the idea, I’ll be grateful and glad that she found her special someone.”
“You don’t seem… angry?” Jo ventured.
“No, not angry. Sad though, more than sad, that both of you kept secrets from me in your own way. Was it something I said or did? Did you not trust me?”
“Of course I trust you! Oh, Mum, I was just so ashamed of what I’d done, and Rees said?—”
“Pah! Rees! If I’d known how he’s been holding this over you I would have put a gun to his head years ago… provided your father hadn’t beaten me to it. But what will make me angry is if you go back to him. Don’t get me wrong, I know all about how coercive control works, but you’ve shown such courage this morning and I won’t have you backsliding.”
“He has no hold over me anymore. Not now you know the truth. But I think it will take me a while to get used to the idea.” Jo blinked. The free fall feeling had stopped but she still had the sense of floating some distance above the ground. Like nothing was real. Forty-eight hours ago she’d had no intention… no idea that the truth would ever come out.
“Maybe don’t tell him just yet. You need to make this your narrative, Jo. Your story. The way you tell it to the world.”
“To the world…?” Jo whispered. “I can’t… What about Pam? What about her lover? She’s probably still alive and there aren’t that many MPs’ wives…”
“ Only. Ever. You. is a work of fiction, Jo. At least as far as most people are concerned.”
“But Rees knows the truth. He could still make this bloody. He could sell his version of events even.”
“That man would sell his own mother, and he really won’t like the money from the book drying up when I remind him it’s mine. I mean, not that I’d take anything from you, darling, but we can sort out the legal side of things once you’ve divorced.”
Jo was free falling again, trying to keep up with her mother’s train of thought. These new ideas, this very conversation, had seemed impossible just a short while before. Everything was new and scary. And shiny. And desirable.
“Mum, please, slow down.”
“I’m sorry. Perhaps I’m thinking too far ahead. This is all such a shock. I’ve quite lost my cool.” Her mother laughed. “So much for my mantra of breaking a problem down logically, and it’s important that we do. One step at a time. You’ve taken the first one, the biggest one, and I’m so very proud of you.”
“You shouldn’t be. I’ve made such a wretched mess of everything.”
“Oh, Jo. The hardest thing is going to be building up your self-belief again after what that man’s done.”
Jo frowned. “No, I don’t think so. Being here… it’s helped no end. I know I’m doing a good job, and I’ve made a really good friend. I’ve even stood up to Rees more than once. That has to count for something.”
“It counts for a great deal. But all the same, do you want me to come? To support you?”
“Honestly, it’s fine. I have good people around me. In fact, it was Karmela who persuaded me to tell you. That woman’s a total rock. And I’ll need you more when I get home.”
“In which case, I’ll stay put. And I’ll go and tell your father, although I might need to hide his car keys first in case he takes it into his head to go after Rees with his golf clubs.”
Jo giggled. It was the last thing her mild mannered dad would do, but she appreciated the sentiment. She felt so loved, so supported. She supposed she would never know how much she had hurt her parents by what she had done, because her mum and dad would always put her feelings first. What an incredible love, and she was more than blessed to have it. How she had thought anything could change it, she did not know. But deep inside she did. Rees. His manipulation of her. His control.
Jo set her phone down on the desk and gazed out of the window. In the courtyard below, Ekaterini was setting the table for lunch, and beyond the track to the farmhouse a lone goat nibbled around the brownish mounds of the dying vines. Life went on. No earthquakes. No volcanic eruption. But the shape of her world was completely different.
A bleep behind her made her jump, and she picked up her mobile.
I love you, darling girl, and never forget it.
Jo clasped her phone to her chest. For once in her life, she’d done the right thing.
* * *
Skatá, skatá, skatá! Opening the drinks fridge, Zina could see Ekaterini was right; there were only two cans left of the upmarket tonic water Sophie preferred, and the gin bottles had taken quite a hit as well. How come she was so off the ball all of a sudden? She’d completely forgotten to do her weekly stocktake and book her delivery yesterday, so now she’d have to go to the cash and carry herself.
Scribbling a note on her pad, she sat back on her heels. The tiled floor of the bar was cool beneath her bare legs, and a part of her longed to stay there, drinking in the mixed aromas of beeswax, and of garlic and herbs from the kitchen, where Ekaterini was already preparing the sauce for dinner. It felt comforting and safe in a world that was becoming increasingly uncertain.
For the last twenty-four hours George had been clouding everything. She knew she was being stupid, she honestly did. He’d be gone again within days. But it was so nice to be noticed, to be appreciated for who she was. Especially with Lambros being such a frigging arsehole. If he’d put as much effort into their relationship as he was into prolonging their rift, they wouldn’t be in this sorry state in the first place.
Oh, she could so do without this. She didn’t want to be obsessing over George, but she couldn’t help it. He made her feel so damned good and clearly he was no longer the boy who’d dumped her. The one who, let’s face it, could occasionally have a bit of a vindictive streak when he didn’t get his own way. Grown-up he was kind, considerate, successful– the ultimate fantasy. And fantasies didn’t hurt, did they?
Zina scrambled to her feet. None of this would solve the immediate problem of the drinks cabinet. The cash and carry was on the main road towards Fira, so if she got her skates on she’d have time to run down to Balos beach for a swim as well. Why not? She’d be passing the turning anyway. And George might be there.
It shouldn’t matter. But it did. She shouldn’t go. But she would. She just couldn’t help herself. It wasn’t as though they’d do anything other than swim.
Zina finished her shopping list in double quick time, then all but ran to the farmhouse to change. Her beach towel and bikini were still on the airer on the terrace, and as she grabbed them Mama looked up from her book.
“Going swimming, Zina?”
“Just a quick dip on my way back from the cash and carry. To clear my head.”
“The cash and carry? Where are you planning to swim?”
“Balos.”
Mama raised her eyebrows.
“So I can leave my car keys with Resi’s dad.”
“Oh well, if you’re going that way anyway, that does make sense. As does clearing your head. I don’t suppose you and Lambros have made any progress?”
“No.” Zina saw no reason to elaborate. After all, on Sunday her mother had said she wanted to stay out of it.
“Someone’s got to give, Zina. Be the bigger person. It’s your future we’re talking about here. All our futures, in fact.”
All their futures? But of course, what happened to her marriage affected Mama too. If she went back to Athens… But how could she? Even if Lambros wanted out, Zina had The Retreat House now. She had bookings, commitments, some of them into next season. Even if and when Mama made enough progress to cope without her being here, she was trapped. Well and truly. Stuck in this backwater when, like George, her career could have taken her anywhere. The thought made her want to weep with frustration.
She gave her mother a quick kiss on the forehead. “I’ll think about it while I swim.”
* * *
Almost as soon as she stepped out of her car, Zina spied George at one of the taverna tables, scrolling on his phone with a beer to one side. Should she pretend not to notice him? Play it cool? But given the position of the terrace that was hardly possible. And it would be rude. And not what she wanted, anyway.
The decision was made for her because as she approached he looked up, then stood to greet her. “This is a lovely surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I’m afraid once again the main attraction is the sea,” she said with a laugh, pulling off her scrunchie and shaking out her hair. “I’ve come for a swim.”
He put his hand on his heart. “You know how to wound a man.”
“Or at least wound his pride.”
“I am not all pride, Zina, you should know that.” His eyes held hers, then he broke away, glancing towards the bar. “Can I offer you a drink first?”
She really wanted to, but there’d been a queue at the cash and carry and she was already running late. Even if she put the tonics in the freezer, they’d need enough time to chill before anyone came looking for a refreshing G he was worse . Twenty times worse. And he’d reeled her in, like a fish on a line.
“I’d never cheat on Lambros. I love him,” she told him tartly.
The thought was like a thump in her solar plexus. She did love him. She really did. What… what… had she almost done? For a moment Zina thought she was going to throw up, and she backed away further, the anchor rope of a nearby boat rough beneath her gripping fingers.
“You haven’t changed, have you? You always were a cocktease– not that it bothers me. You’re not that desirable, Zina. You’re not that special.”
Arrogant shit! He frigging beggared belief. “Luckily my husband thinks I am,” she told him, before diving into the waves and striking out for the concrete platform on the shore.
As she was rubbing herself down with a towel, hidden from the taverna by the trees lining the car park, she began to consider her words. She’d told Georgiou she loved Lambros, and it was true. He’d never in a million years behave in that disgraceful manner; he’d never been disrespectful, or dishonest. Her love for him was alive. It may have been buried so far beneath her anger at his continuing distance that she’d all but forgotten about it, but it was there all right. And it was beginning to hurt.
She got into the car and gripped the steering wheel. She could succumb to that pain and weep for a year, or she could use it. She could admit to herself her whole focus had been wrong. Her whole energy.
She needed to stop playing stupid games and do something to try to reach Lambros. Before it really was too late to save her marriage.