Beneath the Lemon Trees

Chapter 5

5

Back at the villa, Lily and Amelia were only just finishing breakfast and Will and Hector were still upstairs.

The table outside was covered in plates, bowls, used cutlery, crumbs and milk spills, but the girls’ smiley, welcoming faces made everything all right.

‘How was it?’ Lily asked, rising and kissing her mother on the cheek.

She was wearing her pink and white checked bikini today, which knotted at the front. Amelia had the same one – they’d bought them together – but she was covered up now in an oversized green T-shirt.

‘Good,’ Stella replied, pulling out a chair and sitting down. ‘It’s a charming village. Lots of nice shops. You’ll love it.’

She wasn’t going to mention Marina; it would only make the girls worry.

‘Great. We might walk down later. D’you mind if we go for a swim now?’ Lily went on. ‘Sorry, I know you’ve just arrived, but we’re so hot.’

Her thoughtfulness warmed Stella’s heart. ‘Of course I don’t mind. Go. I’ll join you in a bit.’

She and Louise watched the girls saunter off to the pool, chit-chatting all the way.

‘They never stop, do they?’ Stella said, amused. ‘Girls are so different from boys.’

‘We were the same at that age,’ Louise replied. ‘Don’t you remember? In fact, we’re not that different now. Josh can’t believe how long we spend on the phone. Just as he thinks we’re about to hang up, he says we launch off into another great long topic of conversation about nothing in particular. He gets a bit annoyed, actually. He only uses the phone to make quick arrangements. Bish bosh and that’s it, call over.’

Perhaps if he listened more carefully to Louise, Stella thought, he’d realise these conversations were as important to her as Stella, and not just about ‘nothing in particular.’ But she didn’t say so.

There was a little coffee left, which they agreed to share.

‘I wonder why Marina wouldn’t tell us who the villa’s owners are,’ Stella mused as she poured cold milk into her mug. ‘I can’t think why it’s such a mystery.’

Louise took a sip of her drink before raising her eyebrows. ‘I think you should make it your mission to find out. You’re good at that sort of thing.’

‘What? You mean I’m nosy?’

Louise grinned. ‘Well, you always seem to know an awful lot about everyone. It doesn’t take you long to tease out someone’s life story.’

‘I’m just interested in people, that’s all,’ Stella protested.

‘That’s what I said. Nosy.’

It was the hottest part of the day now and both Stella and Louise were keen to swim. After getting changed, Stella did a few laps then lay in the shade for a while under a sweetly scented lemon tree.

It was several hours since she’d checked her messages and to her relief, there was nothing urgent. She was weary and could easily have fallen asleep, but Louise’s words had struck home and before long, she found herself googling Villa Ariadne to see if she could discover anything more about its previous and current owners.

It wasn’t listed on the usual travel agency sites; it had its own website which you had to book through. Stella had first stumbled across it when searching for a quiet villa to rent in Crete for six people, near the sea, with its own private swimming pool.

The website was pretty basic and must have been created quite some time ago. The pale-blue font looked old fashioned and the photographs were slightly grainy. However, as soon as she’d seen a picture of the outside of the house, with its grand yet welcoming fa?ade and the avenue of ancient olive trees leading up to it, she’d known this was where she wanted to stay.

She’d become even more convinced after reading the unusual and rather charming blurb on the homepage, written by the housekeeper, which she now read again:

Eleni Papadakis welcomes you to the magic of Villa Ariadne and Porto Liakáda. No roads, no cars, no mopeds. You will arrive here by ferry from Chora Skafion, fifteen minutes away, and immediately feel as if you have left behind the stresses of the modern world.

Villa Ariadne is a historic jewel. Built by the Venetians, sections date back to the fifteenth century. Whilst retaining many traditional features, however, it has been lovingly updated to create a modern, luxurious yet laid back and uniquely calming home.

Everywhere you look, there is some piece of art, pottery or sculpture to delight tired eyes and soothe weary souls and senses. Everywhere you go, you will be able to lose yourself in nature, whether in the mountains, by the coast, in the azure Libyan sea or just at home in the villa’s gardens, filled with aromatic flowers and trees.

The villa is set high up in the White Mountains overlooking Porto Liakáda, where discos and clubs don’t exist, just a few quiet bars and restaurants by the beautiful bay. Night life is you, your conversation, your next drink, as you gaze up at the night sky and feel yourself start to heal…

It had seemed to Stella then, as it seemed now, that the piece had been written just for her. It was quite uncanny. It was almost as if Mrs Papadakis knew she was weary to her bones and sick with sadness. She needed far more than just a fun-filled beach holiday; she needed to convalesce and be reborn.

Once she’d finished re-reading the blurb, she went to the next page and scrolled through a gallery of pictures. On the third and final page, there was a lot of information about things to do and see in and around Porto Liakáda, but as she’d thought, nowhere was there any mention of the villa’s owners, past or present. Strange. Curiously, there were no reviews either, which was surprising, considering Katerina had given the impression the villa was much sought after.

Stella could imagine the housekeeper wasn’t very good with technology or marketing, but she’d have thought the owners would be more savvy. One thing was certain: they should definitely fork out on a brand new website. The current one might have appealed to Stella, but it was distinctly amateurish and could easily put others off.

After closing down the site, she wracked her brains to try to think of another way of finding the information she was after. She tried typing in the simple question – Who owns Villa Ariadne, Porto Liakáda? – and was excited when it seemed to yield results.

There was quite a bit of information about a villa with the same name above the ancient Minoan ruins of Knossos, Crete. Of much more interest, though, was an old newspaper article about Leo Skordyles, who’d died some twenty years ago and who’d been descended from a long line of Cretan nobles.

It seemed he’d bought Villa Ariadne back in the seventies and lived there with his wife, who’d outlived him. He was a well-known character, having been mayor of Sfakia for a number of years and also a generous patron of the arts.

Although he and his wife had no children, they’d also helped set up and fund a local private English-speaking international school, which was still open today. It followed the American curriculum and its students received accreditations that enabled them to study anywhere abroad.

Intrigued, Stella read on eagerly until she reached the final paragraph, convinced she was about to discover what had happened to the villa at last. Her hopes were soon dashed, however.

After Skordyles died, it seemed his wife had continued to live there until she, too, passed away in 2010. The piece ended with a brief description of the wife’s traditional Greek Orthodox funeral, attended by ‘many local figures as well as the current mayor of Sfakia.’ It added:

She is buried beside her husband in the Argoulide Cemetery in the regional unit of Chania.

Stella frowned. Now she’d got the bit between her teeth, she wasn’t about to give up. There must be more information somewhere, even if she had to trawl through pages of dull, irrelevant documents to find it.

Her search came to an abrupt end, however, when her phone pinged. Jon. Again. She was tempted to ignore him, but couldn’t.

‘Hey!’ he said, sounding much cheerier than he’d been this morning. ‘Guess what? I’ve booked my flight. I’m arriving tomorrow at midday.’

Stella’s heart fluttered. So soon! She wondered what had prompted his sudden reversal of mood. There was a pause while the information sank in.

‘I hope that’s okay?’ he added, sensing her hesitation. ‘You haven’t changed your mind, have you?’

‘Of course not. That’s brilliant news!’

‘I’ve got a flexible ticket – I was thinking I might return at the same time as you.’

Stella swallowed. ‘Great!’

It had been her suggestion, of course, and a break was no doubt exactly what he needed. So why had her stomach clenched and her mouth gone dry?

‘I’ll meet you at the ferry,’ she offered.

At that moment, Louise, who was on a nearby lounger, sat up straight and raised her eyebrows enquiringly.

Stella held up an index finger: One moment .

‘It’s very hot here,’ she went on, returning to Jon. ‘Pack light clothes – and don’t forget sun cream.’

He wanted to hear about her trip to the village earlier and how the kids were settling in. He was clearly still at a loose end and fancied a chat. But Stella cut him short.

‘Sorry, I’ve got to go. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow.’

‘I can’t wait.’

‘What’s he on about now?’ Louise asked when the call had finally ended.

Stella swallowed again.

‘He’s going to join us tomorrow. You know he’s not working, and he sounded so down earlier. It’s not good for him to be on his own so I said he could use the empty bedroom here. I hope that’s okay. I doubt we’ll see much of him. He’ll probably take himself off on long walks and things.’

To her dismay, Louise’s eyebrows knitted together and angry red spots appeared on her cheeks.

‘You could have asked me first.’ She crossed her bare arms tightly.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d mind.’

This wasn’t true, of course; there was a reason why Stella hadn’t mentioned her spur-of-the-moment invitation until now. Part of her had been hoping Jon would refuse, so she wouldn’t ever have to. Louise was well within her rights to be annoyed; Stella would have been just as angry if she’d done the same to her.

‘I mind a lot, actually,’ Louise said sharply. ‘An extra person will change the dynamics. Plus, he’s bound to talk non-stop about Harriet. I thought you wanted to escape from that for a while, even though he’s been calling you constantly since you arrived anyway.’

Stella tried to catch Louise’s eye, to plead for forgiveness, but she was staring doggedly at her lap.

‘I’m sorry,’ Stella repeated. ‘I-I did want to get away from it,’ she added with a guilty stammer. ‘It’s just, I felt so bad for Jon. And I thought having all the children round would sort of dilute him. There’ll be so much going on, he’ll be too distracted to dwell on his woes.’

‘I’m not convinced about that.’

‘I thought you liked him?’

It was a cheap shot, but Stella was desperate to smooth things over and win Louise round.

‘You know I do.’ She still sounded angry, but her frown had started to lift. ‘Look, we should have discussed this first, but it’s done now. I know you asked him for the right reasons. It’s not ideal, but we’ll make the best of it and I’m sure it’ll be good for Jon, as you say.’

Relief washed over Stella, and she felt a whoosh of gratitude. That was one thing about Louise: she spoke her mind and flared up fairly easily, but didn’t bear grudges. She’d say her bit, then move on.

Stella was the one who tended to bottle things up and simmer away in silence. It had exasperated Al, especially after Harriet died.

‘How can I know what I’m doing wrong if you won’t tell me?’ he’d say.

He’d had a point, of course, but it was the way she’d always been. And unfortunately, stress and upset had put her in no mood to work on herself and try to change. In fact, it had only made things worse.

* * *

‘You’ve what?’

Hector scowled at his mother, who was still lying by the pool.

She’d broken the news of Jon’s visit to all four children, who’d just had a late lunch of Katerina’s leftover Greek salad and bread.

Will, in turquoise swimming trunks, and the girls, in their skimpy bikinis, had been sitting listening at the pool edge, dangling their feet in the water. It seemed it was only Hector who had a problem with Jon coming to stay.

‘Why the fuck did you ask him? He’s so fucking depressing. He just needs to open his mouth and I feel like slitting my wrists.’

Stella blinked and swallowed. She was used to Hector’s rudeness, but this was taking things to another level. He knew she’d hurt herself this morning, though she hadn’t told him about Marina’s creepy comments, which had troubled her even more.

‘ Don’t say things like that,’ she said, sitting up straight, her eyes flashing. ‘Don’t you dare make jokes about people killing themselves.’

The cut on her knee had only just stopped bleeding and she couldn’t bend the joint, for fear of breaking the newly formed scab. Her hands stung, too.

For once, Hector seemed to sense how close his mother was to the edge and backed down.

‘Sorry.’ He dug out his tobacco and cigarette papers from his jeans pocket and started to prepare a roll-up. ‘It’s a turn of phrase. I wasn’t thinking.’

Stella took a deep breath. ‘Okay.’ She wasn’t in the mood for a fight.

Hector was standing, barefoot and bare-chested, at the end of her lounger, casting a long shadow. He was pale and thin, but burned with anger.

‘I don’t understand why you asked him,’ he went on, just a little more gently. ‘None of us want him here.’

He glanced round for support, but the others had their heads down and were staring hard at the water.

Stella started to explain how Jon was lonely and a break would be good for him, but Hector wasn’t having it.

‘He should’ve booked his own holiday, not gate-crashed someone else’s.’

At that moment, Louise, who’d been indoors clearing up the dishes, came out to join them. She seemed to have recovered from her earlier annoyance, and seeing her made Stella feel instantly lighter.

She settled next to Stella again on the sun lounger and spread herself out lazily on the yellow cushion, her legs stretched and arms tucked behind her head.

The tanned skin on her thighs and abdomen glistened with sun cream and her bronze bikini sparkled in the sun.

‘Bliss,’ she said, closing her eyes with a small, contented smile playing on her lips. ‘I’m quite tired after our walk. I might have a little siesta.’

Stella glanced at Hector, who slunk away to light his fag near the villa, where there was more shelter. At least he had the decency not to continue the row in front of Louise.

Leaning against the wall, with one knee raised, foot resting on the whitewashed stone, he appeared lost in his own thoughts. But Stella sensed his every move was designed to rattle her.

He knew she disliked the way he held his fag between thumb and forefinger and blew ostentatious smoke rings. He was well aware she loathed him smoking, full stop, because it was so bad for his health.

He hadn’t been in the pool once and was persisting in wearing thick, hot jeans as if to prove he wasn’t really part of this vacation, he was merely suffering it.

His behaviour often made Stella fume, but the feeling never lasted long because deep down, she knew he was unhappy and that made her sad, too. She’d tried so hard to reach him, and failed.

In truth, it was only because of Al that he’d finally agreed to come to Crete. Stella had even promised to buy him a second-hand car if he passed his driving test, but he’d still refused.

In the cab going to the airport, she’d thanked him for showing up.

‘It’s only because Dad made me,’ he’d replied nastily. ‘Otherwise I wouldn’t be here.’

Stella had no idea how Al had done it, but she was truly appreciative; he hadn’t needed to make the effort. Now, though, she was beginning to wonder if it wouldn’t have been better if Hector had stayed home after all.

‘What do you fancy doing this afternoon?’ she asked the girls, more to distract herself than anything. Will had slipped silently into the pool, perhaps to escape the tension.

Lily shrugged and glanced at Amelia. ‘Hang out here? It’s too hot to go anywhere now.’

Amelia nodded in agreement.

The girls’ hair hung damply down their backs, Lily’s dark brown and Amelia’s fair. Amelia was a little bigger than Lily, with broader shoulders, but they looked very alike otherwise in their matching pink and white checked bikinis.

Even their body language was similar. They were sitting so close together, their sides touched, and every now and again, they’d shake with amusement at some secret joke.

It was as if they were in their own little world with a language just for them. Like Stella and Harriet, they’d been friends since babyhood and probably knew what the other was thinking without the need for words.

Stella’s heart melted with love for her daughter and she hoped the girls’ safe, cosy familiarity with each other would last.

All of a sudden, she felt Harriet’s absence again so keenly, it was as if someone had chopped off a limb, or her stomach had developed a hole in it so big, it could never be filled.

Of course, Louise was a good mate, too. But she was a very different personality from Harriet and she and Stella had never had quite the same, deep understanding.

Stella doubted Harriet would have questioned her decision to invite Jon on holiday, for instance, if he’d been a different mate’s grieving husband. And she’d totally get why Stella was still raw about everything that had happened; though Harriet could be tough at work, she was super giving, full of compassion and had the warmest heart.

Stella’s knee hurt and she shifted slightly to change position, before bending down to pick up her phone in the bag beside her.

There were no new texts, just the unopened one from Al yesterday.

They’d decided to have a period of no contact because things had been getting out of hand before she’d left for Crete. For some reason, she and Al had started messaging each other more, mostly about the kids but sometimes about nothing in particular. Stella felt it wasn’t healthy, given that they’d separated, and somewhat reluctantly, Al had agreed.

She could ignore his text; he’d phone in an emergency anyway. But curiosity got the better of her.

Hope you have a great time. Just to let you know I’m away for a week from tomorrow. There won’t be much reception but I’ll check my phone when possible. Al.

PS Hope Hector’s behaving…

Resting the phone face down on her stomach, she stared into the distance. All of a sudden, everything looked strangely blurry: the girls, the pool, Hector still leaning against the wall, the villa itself and the trees beyond.

For a moment, she wondered if she were about to faint. Maybe the heat had got to her, combined with the difficult conversation she’d had with Louise and shock from the fall. There was a bottle of water on the ground at her feet, which she reached for groggily, and took a few sips.

She heard her daughter squeal in excitement and plunge in the pool, but her brain couldn’t seem to focus. If she waited a while, with luck, the sensation would pass.

‘Stella, what’s the matter?’

Louise’s voice brought her back to the here and now.

Stella glanced over and her friend was propped up on an elbow, staring at her. She’d thought she was asleep.

‘Sorry, I felt dizzy all of a sudden. I think I’m all right now.’

‘You should lie down somewhere cool.’ Louise sounded very firm. ‘Go to your bedroom for a bit. I’ll bring you up a cup of that mountain tea, made from dried leaves and flowers. It’s supposed to be very good for you.’

‘I’ll be fine, honestly.’ The last thing Stella wanted was to be alone right now.

Louise’s gaze fell on the phone, still resting on Stella’s stomach, and she raised her eyebrows. Stella pretended not to notice.

She didn’t want to talk about Al or Hector or Jon, for that matter. Al was perfectly entitled to a break, if that’s what he was having.

He was probably there now, wherever there was. She didn’t need to know. She hoped he was enjoying himself, alone or with someone else. It didn’t matter either way; it was none of her business.

Lily might know, but Stella wouldn’t quiz her. She’d asked Al to leave her be and he was doing exactly that.

Her mind flitted to the single lady who lived in the flat above his. She was a makeup artist called Sasha. Lily had mentioned her.

‘She’s worked on loads of different films and TV series, Mum,’ she’d said. ‘She did the makeup for Sex Education ! She even offered to show me how to do my makeup sometime.’

‘That’s kind of her. Remember to say thank you from me.’

Having finished his cigarette, Hector sloped off indoors. Stella guessed they wouldn’t see him again till supper. Will and the girls were still splashing around in the pool.

‘I’ll stroll into town at two-ish tomorrow to meet Jon off the ferry.’

Louise frowned.

‘What about your knee?’

‘It’ll be okay by tomorrow. I’ll take it slowly and leave plenty of time.’

She lifted her leg to examine the sterile dressing on her open cut. Both women had brought essentials like ibuprofen, plasters and antiseptic cream, but only Louise had thought of adhesive bandages.

Some blood had soaked through the gauzy fabric but it had dried now. A cut knee wasn’t going to hold her back.

Jon’s imminent arrival suddenly seemed more appealing. Looking after him might take her mind off her own worries.

Maybe he’d know where Al was; she was aware the two kept in touch by phone. It seemed strange not having any idea even which country her husband was in. He’d mentioned the weak phone signal, so it had to be somewhere remote. Perhaps he was hiking in the mountains, or renting a cottage in the middle of nowhere.

He liked company, though. He was very sociable. Maybe he’d gone with his best mate, Danny, but he rarely took time off work. Al had told her he wasn’t dating anyone; he said he wasn’t interested. But perhaps that had changed since she’d insisted they stop speaking so often. He loved women and surely couldn’t survive without female company for too long.

‘I’m going to check on Jon’s room,’ she said, starting to rise. ‘I can’t remember if the bed’s made up.’

It was a fib. She’d already checked and the room was immaculate, but she felt as if ants were crawling over her body and she couldn’t sit still any longer.

‘I’ll do it; you stay where you are.’

‘No, I need the loo anyway.’

Louise gave in and lay down again.

‘You’re an amazing support to him,’ she said, closing her eyes. ‘He’s lucky to have you. I just pray he doesn’t cause any trouble.’

* * *

At first, Stella didn’t recognise the thin, grey man walking towards her, struggling under the weight of a big green holdall.

Jon used to be solidly built but like her, he’d lost a lot of weight when Harriet died. The last time Stella saw him, she was pleased he seemed to have regained a few pounds. Clearly, it hadn’t lasted though, as he was thinner than ever now and looked much older.

He was wearing smart navy shorts, blue boat shoes and a white polo shirt, which was too big for him but appeared brand new. He was frowning but his face lit up when he spotted Stella and he removed his Panama hat and waved it at her.

‘You made it!’ Stella cried when he was close enough to hear. She held out her arms and he put down the holdall and walked into them, burying his face in her neck. She could feel his bony ribs and vertebrae when she hugged him and her neck felt damp. Was he crying?

His arms wove round her back, too, and he was much taller, but she seemed to be the one holding him up.

‘Hey!’ she said softly. ‘It’s good to see you.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he replied, retreating unsteadily and wiping his eyes with the bottom of his shirt. ‘I… I just felt so emotional, seeing you there, waiting for me.’ His breath came in judders.

‘You don’t need to apologise.’ Stella gave an encouraging smile, hoping he wouldn’t lose it completely. ‘Come on, let’s have coffee or a cold drink before we walk to the villa. I want to hear about your journey – and everything else.’

Bending down, she picked up one of his bag straps and he took the other, wordlessly. They settled in the same café where she and Louise had been the previous day. The waiter, a young man in jeans and a black T-shirt, arrived almost immediately. Before Stella had time to order, however, Jon jumped in.

‘This calls for a celebration! Let’s have a bottle of wine.’

His sudden jollity seemed out of place and she was taken aback. She was also thirsty and hadn’t been planning to drink alcohol; she’d rather have had lemonade or Coke.

Jon’s mind was made up, however, and he asked the waiter which local whites he’d recommend.

‘Vidiano is very popular,’ the young man replied. ‘The grapes are grown in the Heraklion area of Crete. It is quite full-bodied. I think you will like it.’

When he returned with a bottle and two glasses, Jon insisted on doing the pouring himself.

‘Here’s to us,’ he said, clinking glasses with Stella, whose eyes widened in surprise.

‘I mean, here’s to us having a great holiday – to everyone having a good one,’ he added quickly, before taking a sip of wine. ‘Delicious.’

Stella was relieved his mood had picked up so rapidly and she took a sip herself. The pale-yellow wine tasted rich and fruity. She’d better go easy or she’d be drunk in no time.

‘How was your flight?’ she asked, putting down her glass. He held the stem of his in both hands and played with it, twizzling it round a few times before drinking some more.

He told her the travelling was perfectly smooth and he’d had no problem finding a taxi to take him to the ferry.

‘Much more importantly, how are you? Are you managing to unwind?’

They were under a parasol and Stella extended her legs so they’d be in the sun. She was wearing shorts again – white ones this time – and decided they’d look better on her if she had a tan.

She was about to reply when he noticed the bandage with dried blood on one knee and the large, bluish-purple bruise on the other.

‘What on earth have you been doing to yourself?’

‘I fell – twice, on two separate occasions. I’m very clumsy.’ She smiled ruefully. ‘It’s okay, though; they’re getting better.’

‘Stella, that’s terrible!’

Dragging his chair closer to hers, he leaned over to get a better look.

‘Have you seen a doctor? There’s quite a lot of blood.’

His concern made her laugh. Neither of her children was remotely worried on her behalf. Even Louise had forgotten to ask how her cut felt this morning.

‘No need,’ she said. ‘I cleaned it carefully and put on antiseptic cream. It’ll heal in a few days.’

‘You might need stitches.’

‘It’s not deep enough.’

‘Still, I think you should get it checked out, just in case. And that bruise looks horrendous. You must have gone down with an almighty bang.’

Glancing round, she noticed the whites of his eyes were bloodshot and his brow was a mass of wrinkles. His solicitude was touching, but it could start to get on her nerves.

‘Thanks, but I’ll let nature take its course. I’m sure sea water will help it heal, too.’

Straightening up, he set his Panama on the table and ran his hands through the tufts of grey-brown hair on either side of his bald patch.

‘You look after everyone else, but no one looks after you.’ He reached for the wine bottle and topped up both their glasses. ‘I wish you’d let me take care of you for once.’

‘I don’t need to be looked after. Anyway, I’d rather talk about you .’

He grimaced, before picking up his glass and draining it. When he tried to top her up again, she shook her head.

‘I feel a bit fuzzy; I’d better stop.’

Nodding, he emptied what was left in the bottle into his own glass, took another swig and stared into the distance.

His broad, flat nose was shiny and there were beads of sweat on his upper lip.

‘I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since you invited me here.’

Stella swallowed. ‘Oh yes?’

‘It’s time I moved on from Harriet. She’s gone and nothing’s going to bring her back. I accept that now. I’ve done enough wallowing. I need to start a new chapter.’

The skin on Stella’s arms prickled and her mouth felt dry. This was good news, surely? It just wasn’t what she’d expected. She’d imagined she might have to stop him going on about Harriet all the time, because it would pull everyone down.

Her head itched; in fact, everything itched. She wasn’t sure where to scratch first. He had a right to look to the future now, for his daughter’s sake as well as his own. He couldn’t go on mourning forever. Even so, she couldn’t help but feel wounded on Harriet’s behalf, as if she’d been jilted.

‘That’s great,’ she said without conviction. ‘I’m really pleased for you.’

He turned to her. ‘Are you? Really?’

‘Well, yes. I mean, you deserve to be happy. It’s what Harriet would have wanted, I’m sure.’

‘That’s wonderful!’ He drained his glass again and replaced it on the table. ‘Thank you.’

Stella wasn’t quite sure what he was thanking her for, but he certainly seemed relieved. Did he plan to dip a toe in the dating game and wanted her blessing? If so, he had it; she just didn’t need details.

A sudden memory made her stomach turn over. It was a Wednesday morning, just a month or so before Harriet’s death. She lived close to a giant wholesale store and Stella had decided to pop in, as usual, on her way to buy food for a forthcoming catering event.

They’d sat at the breakfast bar laughing and drinking coffee. Harriet was pale and painfully thin but remarkably bright and chatty, given the circumstances – right up until the time Stella said she needed to go.

‘Must you?’ Out of the blue, her friend’s face had crumpled.

Stella had looked properly at Harriet and could still recall that jolt she’d felt, like an electric shock. Harriet’s eyes were frightened, terrified, even. She was like a small child, alone and completely lost.

For a few moments, Stella had hesitated, thinking she mustn’t leave; she should stay and keep her friend company. But then she’d remembered the catering event at the weekend and all the work she had to do beforehand.

She told herself Harriet could cope until Amanda arrived after lunch to do the next shift. She was a local friend and very supportive.

‘What time is Jon back?’ Stella had asked next, and she’d been relieved by Harriet’s response:

‘Early. I’ll be okay,’ she’d added, no doubt sensing Stella’s concern. ‘I’ve got a casserole in the freezer for supper, a ready-made one from that great shop that sells food which is almost as good as homemade.’

Stella nodded. She knew the store well. It had sorted her out on numerous occasions since Harriet had been diagnosed.

‘Marvellous place!’

‘What would we do without it?’ Harriet had agreed with a smile. ‘Jemima’s got netball practice but she should be home by seven-ish.’

By Stella’s calculations, this meant Harriet would only be alone for an hour or so before and after Amanda’s visit, which wasn’t too bad.

‘Good. Look after yourself. I’ll ring later.’

How she wished she’d listened to her instincts! They were screaming at her, telling her Harriet was feeling scared stiff and needed Stella to stay with her at this moment more than ever. But several times in those final few weeks, she’d allowed work to get in the way – and now Harriet was dead and didn’t need her any more anyway. And Jon wanted to find someone new.

‘Stella?’ His voice brought her back. The wine had started to take effect and he’d become louder and a bit flushed.

She noticed his glass was empty again.

‘Here, you have this,’ she said, tipping her remains into it and watching him swallow. ‘We should probably make a move. The others will be wondering where we’ve got to.’

They talked about many things on the walk but her focus was elsewhere. She was thinking that before Harriet died, she hadn’t spent much, if any, time with Jon alone. She knew him mainly from weekend dinner parties, Sunday lunches and holidays, mostly with the two families.

Grief had brought them together, along with her determination to help him and Jemima as best she could, for her friend’s sake. If he’d truly resolved to ‘move on’, however, she wasn’t sure she could remain as close. She might feel as if she were betraying Harriet, however silly that sounded. Stella herself hadn’t moved on and didn’t think she ever would.

When they let themselves in through the big black gates and reached Villa Ariadne, Jon stood still for a moment, looking up, and whistled.

‘It’s enormous! Stunning. I had no idea!’

‘I told you it was beautiful.’

‘Yes, but I imagined something much less grand. This is like a palace!’

Once inside, he dumped his bag in the hall and followed Stella into the yellow and white kitchen. Louise, in her bronze bikini, was bent over, fetching a bottle of chilled water from the giant American-style fridge.

‘Hey! You’re here!’ She straightened up and set the bottle down on the worktop.

Stella noticed her do a double take when she clocked Jon’s gaunt appearance, but she quickly disguised her dismay with a warm smile.

Her hair was wet from the pool and she’d turned golden brown after a day in the sun. If she were embarrassed about being half naked, she didn’t show it, but walked straight up to Jon and gave him a hug. ‘Welcome!’

Bursts of laughter were coming from the garden so Louise and Stella led him outside. Amelia, Lily and Will were messing around in the swimming pool with a plastic orange ball, splashing water everywhere.

Hector, with a white towel on his head, was watching them from a sun lounger. He was in jeans and a black T-shirt and the sun was beating down on him, but he didn’t seem to care.

When Jon called hello, one by one the swimmers heaved themselves out of the water and came to greet him. Meanwhile, Hector remained stubbornly supine.

Unperturbed, Jon strolled over to him, while Louise offered to bring a tray of drinks.

‘The girls will give you a hand,’ Stella said, but Louise insisted she’d do it on her own.

After pulling up more strollers and chairs, the group sat next to Hector. He started to pull the towel over his face, but Stella whipped it away.

‘You having a good time?’ Jon asked, and Hector shrugged before scratching his stubbly cheek with dirty nails that were almost bitten to the quick.

‘Your mum’s got a terrible cut on her knee,’ Jon went on, rather pointedly.

‘Yeah, I know.’

‘We need to look after her. She mustn’t do too much till it heals.’

‘She should be more careful.’

‘Shall I get you another bandage?’ Amelia piped up, wanting to ease the tension, but Stella said she’d have a swim first.

‘I’ve got to cool off; I’m so hot after that walk.’

‘You must dry it really carefully,’ Jon insisted, coming over all concerned again.

‘I will.’

‘How are you feeling about Harriet? Any better?’

Hector’s question came out of the blue and the air turned frosty. His comment sounded innocent enough, but his lip had a sarcastic curl.

‘A-a bit better, yes, thank you,’ Jon said with a stammer. ‘It’s taken a long time, you know, these things do. It takes a bit of getting used to, being single. I think I’m starting to get there…’

Hector was quiet for a moment, perhaps trying to construct a suitable response. He didn’t get the chance, however, as Louise appeared with a tray of glasses, a jug of iced water, a bottle of cordial and a bowl of peanuts, which she set on the end of the lounger Will was sharing with the girls.

‘I need you to walk to Porto Liakáda in a bit and get us something for supper,’ she told all three. ‘It’s cooler now. The supermarket’s open till ten.’

Amelia groaned. ‘It’s so far!’

‘Come on, you haven’t exactly done much today.’

Amelia made a face, but Lily nudged her in the ribs.

‘We can look round the shops and have a few drinks.’

‘Just one,’ Louise said firmly. ‘Otherwise we won’t eat till midnight.’

She filled the glasses with water and asked who wanted cordial. When she started to pass Stella her drink, she straightened up, wincing, and tried to bend her sore knee, which had stiffened.

In a flash, Jon had risen to his feet. ‘Don’t move. I’ll get it for you.’

Louise glanced at him oddly; Stella wondered what she was making of him.

A short time later, Will and the girls set off for Porto Liakáda, leaving Louise, Stella and Jon in the garden with Hector.

‘Okay, I really am going in the pool now.’ Stella peeled off her shorts and top to reveal a navy swimsuit underneath.

Jon hurried into the house and reappeared in a pair of yellow trunks.

When he saw Stella limping towards the steps, he tried to help by tucking an arm under hers.

He was much taller and it was all a bit awkward, but she didn’t want to hurt his feelings by pushing him away.

‘Take your hands off my mum!’

They both turned to look at Hector, whose expression hadn’t changed. He hadn’t moved either.

Louise laughed as if it were a joke, but Stella wasn’t sure. She wriggled out of Jon’s embrace and his arm fell to his side.

Once in the water, she launched into a slow breaststroke and headed for the deep end, relieved to leave him behind.

But when she’d done a few lengths and returned to the steps, Jon was still standing there, waiting for her.