Saturday 30th September
I n the moment of waking, before even opening her eyes, Karmela was able to sense every subtle difference. The slight slope of the mattress away from her, the touch of the sheets on her naked skin, the warm breath in her ear. So this was what it was like to share a bed with someone. She felt safe. Cocooned. A frisson ran through her as she remembered the night before.
After dinner she had accompanied Iain on his last walk of the day with Sybil– a brief foray into the pistachio orchard, where they had kissed under the stars, like characters in Diana and Sophie’s romantic novel. And when they returned to the courtyard, instead of saying goodnight, she had taken his hand and led him into her room. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. And she was so very glad she had ventured.
There had been a gentleness to his passion that had taken her breath away. No clumsy fumble, this; every touch showed how much he cared, and she hoped she had made him feel the same. The ultimate oneness. The ultimate cliché too. She really did feel that in their love-making they had become one, and it had awakened something inside her that she now knew had been missing. Quite what it was, she could not tell. She would come to it in time, she was sure.
Afterwards they had lain face to face and talked for hours– of places visited, of books, of childhood memories. The good ones, with no fear of mentioning Emina’s name, and yet he had held her to him when she did. But now, as the birds began to sing outside, she realised they had spoken only of the past. The future was what they had been avoiding; even the immediate one of today’s goodbye.
Iain stirred beside her, and she turned to him. Aware of the movement, Sybil jumped off the sofa, stretched, then padded over to place her nose on the edge of the bed.
“She’s asking to come up,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. “Not very romantic.”
“Does she usually?”
“I’m afraid so. It’s our little routine. I make coffee, then come back to bed while she curls at my feet and falls asleep again.”
“Well you know where the machine is.”
His laugh was early morning throaty. “Fair enough.”
Iain swung his legs from the bed, tousling Sybil’s ears and saying, “Up you come.” The dog needed no second invitation and settled with her head on Karmela’s thigh. Karmela switched on the bedside lamp, watching as Iain walked to the coffee machine. His body was in good shape: broad shoulders, sturdy thighs with a definite tan line halfway up them, and just the tiniest of love handles above his hips. She wondered for a moment how he viewed her scrawniness, but dismissed the thought. She could change nothing about it, and nor would she expect him– or any man– to change anything for her.
The machine had warmed up and he held a pod in his hand. “This one?”
“Yes. Espresso please.”
“Because it was a long night?”
“Because I always drink it first thing.”
He nodded and slotted in the pod then pressed the button. “I guess we have a lot to learn about each other. If we can work out how we go forward.”
Karmela wriggled up the bed. “Perhaps we do not run before we can walk? Or maybe that is not the right English expression.” She frowned.
“Are you thinking… take it one step at a time?”
“That is it. Yes.”
“Do you have any bright ideas for step two?” He walked across, handing her her coffee, before retreating to make his own.
“Are you still planning to drive up the Adriatic coast?”
“Yes, but my plans can be changed.”
“No. It is fine. Perfect, in fact. I was thinking… I could fly to Dubrovnik next weekend. We could meet there.”
“You’d do that for me?” He sat on the edge of the bed, cradling his cup.
“It is only an hour, and it is one of my favourite places, and where most of my dearest friends live. You ask so much!” She laughed. “And besides, there is one particular friend you might find it interesting to meet. He fought on the ground in the war that you helped to finish from the sky. He was nineteen when it started and it changed him forever. If Operation Deliberate Force stopped just one more teenager going through what he did, then you might see it differently.”
“In truth I try not to see it at all. I’ve flown missions not only in Bosnia, but in Iraq, Afghanistan… but it was never my country, never my family in the firing line. My weak spot is the men I lost; and as I got older, they got younger. Sometimes I see their faces and those times are dark. But it doesn’t last long and I made my peace with it years ago. They paid the ultimate price while I was lucky, and I had a career I loved.”
“Thank you for explaining. As you say, we have so much to learn about each other.”
“Starting next weekend. But I don’t want this to stop, Karmela. Last night was”—he looked down and cleared his throat—“very special. And I hope it was for you too.”
She grasped his hand. “You made it special.”
“We made it special.”
So there was a we, that sense of oneness she had craved without really knowing it since the early days of holding hands on their morning walks. It felt like an adventure, and even the knowledge they would have to part in a matter of hours took nothing away from the feeling. A feeling of belonging. Not to a group of people, but to one other person.
Karmela put her cup on the bedside table and reached up to kiss him. After a few moments he slid beneath the sheets, pushing a reluctant Sybil out of the way. His skin on her skin, his taste in her mouth. One chapter of her life ending, and another beginning.
* * *
The courtyard was silent, the goodbyes that had punctuated the morning finally over. Jo had struggled from her bed at six to bid farewell to Susan and Ellen, then straight after breakfast Iain had taken Karmela to the airport, before going on to catch the mid-morning ferry. Finally, just minutes ago, Zina’s car had disappeared up the track with Sophie and Diana on board. Her first writing retreat was over.
Jo’s cases were already in her hire car, but she had half an hour yet before needing to leave. She stood for a moment, the lemon muskiness of the brightly coloured pots of geraniums tickling her nose. The dining table where they’d eaten such delicious food and talked the evenings away looked forlorn, stripped bare to the polished wood and not a crumb to be seen.
Her footsteps echoed as she ran up the stairs to her room. Of course it was hard to say goodbye because so much had happened here; her life had changed in one short month. Would she ever come back? It was far too soon to know. Plans were beginning to whirl around her head and if one in particular came to fruition, this time next year she would be starting a post-graduate certificate in teaching creative writing. If she was properly qualified, the fact she had once been Jessica Rose would cease to matter. In fact, no one need ever know.
Jo didn’t want to have to spend the future hiding things. But common sense told her she should see where her reputation was in a month’s time. In six months. Yesterday afternoon she’d given an interview to The Washington Post , and the female journalist had focused almost exclusively on the domestic abuse angle, one minute exploring it as it played out in the book, the next trying to get Jo to admit she was a victim too.
Doing so felt like a step too far. She had no desire to call Rees out in public. Her divorce would be bloody enough as it was, and the thought of going home had made her feel sick inside for most of yesterday… until she’d received a message from Curtis, telling her Rees had just left with three large suitcases. With any luck he wasn’t planning to come back.
Jo couldn’t blame him for everything, though. Not only because she still believed she could have stopped Only. Ever. You. being published, but also because there were things about herself she needed to change. Only so much could be put down to grief. She had made mistakes, and she damn well needed to learn from them.
She knew that deep inside she was still the painfully shy girl she’d always been. Yet at the same time, the Jo who had been so terrified she’d almost backed out of the retreat was a distant memory. Something had shifted. Something this month had forever changed.
Was it that she’d found her true skill? Teaching writers their craft, mentoring them as they honed it? She’d never be quite good enough as a novelist herself, and now she knew that instinctive knowledge had eroded her already fragile confidence too. But with work, and the courage to overcome her shyness, she could be a pretty good teacher, she was sure.
As Jo gazed over the courtyard towards the russet-coloured vines and olive grove beyond, she knew that finding enough courage would be the hardest part. She wrapped her arms around her rib cage, biting down on her lip. But with Karmela beside her she had conquered her biggest fear and told her mother the truth. Karmela was naturally brave, and it seemed it was contagious, because Zina had found the inner grit to act decisively to save her marriage.
Jo knew that in the coming weeks and months, their little WhatsApp group would prove a tower of strength, both given and received. They were all going to need it, and they all had plenty to share. Already she couldn’t wait for their visit to Frankfurt at Christmas, and as soon as the dust had settled at home she would book their tickets and hotel as a thank-you for everything these amazing women had done for her. She had a feeling theirs was a friendship that would endure.
With a final look around, Jo picked up her laptop bag, which had been leaning against the bookcase. On the day she arrived she’d noticed the copies of Only. Ever. You. on the shelf. The original paperback in English, plus the version with the movie poster cover. Translations in German and Greek. She’d been studiously ignoring them, but now she removed the books one by one, took her pen from her bag and wrote in each.
A novel by Pamela Collins, published as Jessica Rose.
If she’d come here weighed down by lies, she was leaving in the stark light of the truth. The next few months would be far from easy, but there was no going back. Only forwards. Starting right now.
* * *
Zina and Lambros walked down the track towards the farmhouse hand in hand. She’d come back from taking Diana and Sophie to the airport to find him hard at work cleaning Karmela’s bathroom, having already stripped the bedding from all the rooms.
Now, three hours later, every inch of The Retreat House was shining, ready to receive new guests tomorrow. It was the first of a series of four week-long yoga retreats which would take them to the end of Santorini’s main tourist season. After that she had little in the diary until March, except for a Christmas crafting week at the beginning of December and a handful of corporate getaways.
She had enquiries to follow up that might generate more, but nothing from Georgiou’s HR director. If she even existed. God, she’d been such a fool and her toes curled with embarrassment inside her trainers. But if nothing else, the experience had helped to show her how precious her marriage was.
As they approached the house, they could see Mama outside, pegging washing to the line.
Lambros sighed. “I wondered if she’d be out. All those freshly made beds at the retreat looked mighty inviting.”
“If we weren’t running on the absolute minimum of linen changes.”
“We won’t always be so hand-to-mouth.”
She shrugged. “I could always sell some of my work clothes on eBay.”
“Not now you might need them. And besides, you always look so sexy in high heels.”
“Lambros Sideris, what are you like?” She grinned at him.
“Just making up for lost time. And with a lull in the work on the farm, I even have a bit of energy.”
“I had noticed.” Zina gave him a quick kiss. “We need to start working on how to get our own home in the quickest possible time.” She gazed up at the rusting iron rods sticking up from the farmhouse roof. “I did wonder if we could build up, like Babá always planned to, then divide the building between us.”
“I think we could still find ourselves on top of each other, and not just literally. There’s plenty of space elsewhere on the farm, but of course it’ll be more expensive starting from scratch and we’d need the right permissions. But that way we’d get exactly what we want.”
She leant into him, picturing a modern house of sleek lines and glass, and the latest eco technology. “It sounds like heaven. Maybe at the top of the olive grove, with a view of the sea.”
“Maybe somewhere a bit nearer the existing water and electricity?”
“That’s right, bring me crashing back down to earth,” she said.
“Tell you what, let’s pick a couple of sites and compare the costs. We’ll have to budget, so we know how much we need to save. And of course, we’ll only be able to build during the winter months so it will take an age anyway.”
“Can’t we just… you know… dream a little first?”
He hugged her tight. “Without dreams, we’d never be able to make them come true.”
By the time they reached the farmhouse, Mama was back in the kitchen. “There are some beers in the fridge, and I’ve made riganáda in case you’re hungry.”
Lambros flopped down. “You’re a lifesaver, Panora. Cleaning rooms is hard work.” He picked up a slice of the toasted bread and tomato juice ran down his wrist.
“Tell me about it.” Zina kissed her mother on the cheek. “Thanks, Mama.”
Her mother sat at the table next to Lambros, while Zina fetched the beers. “One for you?” she asked.
“No, I’m going out, to see Eleni and Savvas. Look, you might as well know. One of his staff is leaving next month and he’s offered me a part-time job.”
“But what about your business idea?”
“I can do both. This job is in the bakery itself, so it’s an early start and I’d finish by about eleven. I know I would be busy, but that’s what I want, Zina. I need to move on with my life. I’m sure your babá would wish it.”
“I’m sure he would too. You’re still young, after all.”
Mama nodded. “When I realised I’m only a few years older than Susan and Ellen and I felt like their aged auntie, I knew things had to change.”
“Never,” said Lambros gallantly.
Mama raised her eyes to the ceiling. “The point is that I am relatively young, and sad as it makes me, I can’t have my old life back, so I need a new one. I need a change. A total change. In this house, my Petros is everywhere. At first it was a comfort, but now… The job Savvas is offering, because of the hours, the flat above the shop goes with it.” She looked from one to the other of them. “You need your own space. I’ve seen that more and more these last weeks. It isn’t fair on you, the way we’ve been living.”
Zina was stunned into silence. This was the answer to their prayers, but was it really the right thing for Mama?
“Are you sure we’re not pushing you out of your home?” asked Lambros finally.
“In truth I’m not sure about anything, but if there’s one thing this last month has shown me, I can’t waste the rest of my life getting old before my time. And if it doesn’t work out, then I’ll have to come back.”
Zina took both her hands. “You really want to do this for yourself? Not just for us?”
“I do. I want to get out into the world again. Working for family is a pretty low-risk first step. And I’ll be able to save for my trip to America.”
Zina’s eyes filled with tears. This was not about her, or even Lambros. It was about Mama, her mama who’d come so far from her navy and black widow’s uniform that she was wearing a rich turquoise silk shirt over her jeans. It was frigging wonderful. “I can’t tell you how proud of you I am. But please, please, never think you can’t come back.”
“One day, we want to build our own home anyway,” said Lambros. “This will always be yours. But thank you. Thank you for giving us the space when we need it most.”
Mama picked up her handbag. “I must go, or I will be late.”
They followed her out to the car, watching as she bumped up the track.
Zina turned to Lambros. “I had no idea…”
“Me neither. It goes to show that you live with someone, think you know them, and then they surprise you like this.”
Was there anything behind his comment, or was it as casual as it sounded? “Do I surprise you, Lambros?” she asked.
“This last week, in more ways than you can imagine. Wonderful ways. I feel like I’m getting to know you all over again. And yet, you’re the same girl I married.” He shook his head slowly. “I’m a lucky, lucky, man.”
“ We ’re lucky, Lambros. I was terrified we were growing apart, but now we have the chance to grow even closer. Our thirties could be our best decade yet.”
She put her head on his shoulder as he held her tight. Up the valley the domed roofs of The Retreat House glowed in the sun, the breeze carrying the scent of wild thyme from the fringes of the abandoned fava field. And Zina realised, for the first time since they’d returned to Santorini, it felt like home.