Chapter 6
6
Will and the girls returned from Porto Liakáda at around 10p.m., by which time the others were extremely hungry and had started to worry.
‘We used the torches on our phones,’ Amelia said in response to her mother’s comment about it being pitch black outside. ‘We were fine.’
Her eyes sparkled and her cheeks were rosy. Will and Lily kept bursting into giggles for no apparent reason. They’d clearly had more than one drink but they’d remembered to buy pizzas, salad and a sweet, sticky tart, which had got crushed on the journey.
Stella and Louise were too famished to take them to task for being late and after reheating the pizza in the oven for a few minutes and fixing a salad, they sat down to eat on the terrace.
Stella lit two citronella candles to ward off the mosquitoes, and set one on the wall beside them and another in the centre of the table.
As she ate, her eyes were repeatedly drawn to the yellow flames flickering mysteriously in the large, glass, hurricane candleholders.
Jon’s were, too. She was at one end of the table and he at the other. Once, their gazes met in the middle and when she glanced up, she realised he was staring at her. Puzzled and a bit embarrassed, she gave a small smile before looking away.
The girls were in high spirits, as was Will. He told a story about a ‘mad Englishwoman’ with blonde hair, who was chasing round the tables at the bar where they were sitting, trying to catch two children in nightclothes: a girl and a boy aged about six or seven.
‘She was ranting and raving and threatening to ground them for weeks, but they completely ignored her and just carried on racing round, with her running after them. They seemed to think it was funny. To be honest, it was funny. Everyone was laughing, until the little girl fell over and started crying and the mother picked her up and marched them both home.’
‘That sounds like April,’ said Stella. ‘I don’t think she’s got much control over her kids. She’s from Leeds originally. She’s very friendly.’
‘A bit too friendly,’ Louise added wryly, her gold earrings glinting in the half-light.
Lily leaned across the table and helped herself to another slice of pizza. She’d caught the sun and her shoulders had turned pink.
‘Oh, and some weird lady came up and talked to us.’
She bit into her food and tomato sauce dribbled down her chin. Amelia pulled a mock-disgusted face and passed her some kitchen roll.
Freckles had sprung up on Lily’s cheeks and nose and her topknot was lopsided, with bits of hair sticking out all over the place.
‘What weird lady?’ Stella asked, only half listening. She was smiling inwardly, thinking her daughter had no idea how young and sweet she looked.
‘She had really long hair and was wearing all these droopy, colourful clothes. She asked if you and I were related.’
Stella’s ears pricked up. ‘Marina?’
Lily shrugged. ‘She didn’t say her name.’
‘How did she know you had anything to do with me?’
Amelia chipped in now. ‘She just guessed. She said Lily looked like you.’
‘Oh!’
The fear in Stella’s voice alarmed Lily, who put down her slice of pizza.
‘Is something wrong?’
Stella checked herself; she mustn’t frighten the girls.
‘No.’ She fiddled with the wedding ring she still wore, thinking it was probably time to take it off, though she couldn’t quite bear to.
‘She’s an artist. We bumped into her the day before yesterday and she said a few odd things. Best to steer clear. She’s just a bit strange, that’s all.’
‘What odd things?’ Jon’s speech was slightly slurred. He was bending forwards, his elbows on the table, helping to prop him up.
There was an almost empty bottle of red wine in front of him, which he’d had to himself, as the others were drinking white wine, lager or Coke.
Stella shook her head. ‘It’s not worth repeating; it was nothing.’
The last thing she wanted was to stir him up – or the children, for that matter. She’d rather make light of the incident.
Jon wasn’t going to let it go, though. He opened his mouth to speak, but Louise interrupted.
‘We stopped by the bay to look at a painting she was doing. She made a couple of stupid comments about our appearance, that was all. I don’t think she meant any harm, but we were keen to get away.’
She turned to Amelia. ‘Can you clear the plates and bring out the dessert, please? I’ve put some bowls on the countertop. We can use those.’
‘Great,’ Hector muttered. ‘A lunatic in our midst.’
Louise shot him a look which made him shut up, and he rose reluctantly to help Will and the girls with the plates.
While the others were in the kitchen, Louise asked after Jon’s daughter, Jemima. He confirmed she was still enjoying university and had a new boyfriend, Ahmed.
‘Have you met him?’ Louise wanted to know.
He shook his head. ‘Not yet. Maybe she’ll bring him home in the summer. She’s talking about going to Thailand and Cambodia with him.’
‘Gosh! That’s adventurous. How do you feel about it?’
Jon flapped an arm clumsily in front of his face, knocking over his empty glass, which he left on its side.
‘It’s fine, you know, they’ve got to grow up.’ His speech was slow and deliberate. ‘I told Stella earlier, it’s time I moved on from Harriet. Jemima should, too.’
His gaze fell on Stella, who stared at her plate and wished he’d have the sense to call it a night.
‘Oh!’ Louise’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Well, that’s good, I guess…’
She was sitting beside Stella and reached out to touch her hand.
‘You okay?’ she whispered.
Stella nodded uncertainly. ‘Ish. I mean, it’s difficult for me to hear, as you can imagine, but I’m sure it’s the right thing.’
Louise and the girls devoured the sticky tart but the others didn’t want any. Jon cast around for more wine, but Stella had screwed the top firmly on the bottle of white and hidden it by her feet.
‘I’d better go to bed,’ Jon said at last, rising unsteadily and grabbing the back of his chair for support.
Lily giggled and at his mother’s behest, Will leaped up to offer help.
‘Nah, I’ll be okay.’ Jon flapped his arm again dismissively before staggering towards the door.
‘Sleep well,’ Stella called after him, and he gave a drunken thumbs up before stumbling on the first step. Luckily, he managed to right himself just in time.
Once he’d gone, Stella and Louise exchanged glances.
‘He’s very drunk, isn’t he?’ Lily sounded in awe. She’d sobered up completely, having been allowed soft drinks only since returning from Porto Liakáda, and she looked happy but exhausted.
Hector laughed nastily. ‘Absolutely rat arsed.’
Amelia couldn’t stop yawning and had black bags under her eyes. Louise said she and Stella would clear up.
‘You all go to bed. Thanks for getting the pizza.’
While the two women were bent over, loading the dishwasher, Stella felt the need to apologise for Jon’s behaviour.
‘He drank practically a whole bottle of wine in Porto Liakáda before we even got here. I really didn’t want any but he was dead keen. With luck, he’ll have calmed down by tomorrow and won’t get so carried away.’
‘I hope so.’ Louise stood up and leaned against the worktop, crossing her arms. She was wearing a batik midi dress, predominantly blue, with slim gold chains for straps. Stella recognised it; Louise had had it for years and it was still fabulous on her.
‘He looks terrible, really unwell. I reckon he’s been hitting the bottle big time.’
‘Do you?’ Stella scratched angrily at a mosquito bite on her thigh, which started to bleed. ‘Oh dear. Maybe he’ll cut back now he’s here.’
‘He’d better.’ Louise frowned. ‘It’s not good for the kids to see him like that and he could be a liability. I thought he was going to fall off his chair at one point, and he could hardly make it indoors.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Stella repeated, managing to squeeze one more bowl into the very full machine.
‘Stop apologising.’ The tetchiness in Louise’s voice took Stella aback and made her wince. ‘It’s done now.’
Louise found a box of cleaning powder under the sink and turned on the dishwasher, which made a comforting swishing sound.
‘I just don’t want us having to keep an eye on him the whole time. This is supposed to be a holiday for us all, you know.’
* * *
Jon was already up and making coffee in the kitchen when Stella went downstairs at around 8a.m.
‘I slept like a baby,’ he said with a cheerful smile that belied his pasty complexion and bloodshot eyes. ‘My bed’s really comfortable and it’s so quiet here.’
If he were at all embarrassed about last night, he didn’t show it. Perhaps he didn’t realise how drunk he’d been.
He was wearing his yellow bathing trunks from yesterday, with leather flip-flops and a loose navy T-shirt. His neck looked thin and exposed and his legs scrawny.
Harriet would have been so worried about him. Stella found herself pondering over how best to fatten him up. Lots of those pastries Katerina had made might do the trick, or the ones she and Louise had eaten on their first full day.
After pouring coffee for himself and Stella, he said he was going for a swim and took his mug into the garden.
Instead of following, Stella strolled into one of the little anterooms off the main hall and settled into a dark-red leather armchair to start some different online research.
She wanted to do something active today, to go somewhere. It would be good for Jon, if he decided to come; for them all, in fact. And if he chose to stay behind, at least they’d have a break from him, which Louise, especially, would no doubt welcome.
The walk to Sweetwater Beach looked challenging but manageable, and not too far. Her knee still hurt, but she’d take a painkiller before they left.
When Louise appeared some ten minutes later, she was in favour of the idea and even offered to rouse the kids, a job that Stella wanted to avoid at all costs.
Hector refused point blank to join them, but the others were up for it and Jon was, too. It took a while for them all to muster and when they finally set off, with swimming togs and backpacks, it was almost 11a.m.
It was another beautiful sunny day and the sky was breathtakingly blue. The rough, stony coastal path would lead them all the way to their destination, and they took their time, taking care not to stumble on loose rocks and stopping frequently to admire the view.
From their vantage point high up on the cliffs, the sea looked extremely inviting. It was crystal clear, deep blue and turquoise at the edge where the water was shallower. The colours were so bright, they looked almost cartoonish and reminded Stella of certain Disney movies.
They were all in shorts, T-shirts and walking boots, even Lily, who’d initially refused to put hers on, insisting she’d be fine in sandals.
Luckily, Will had told her not to be silly. ‘It’ll ruin the holiday if you break your ankle.’
She wasn’t as fearless as Amelia and at one stage, the path became very narrow and she almost lost her nerve.
‘I can’t do it,’ she said, glancing at the slim, stony, winding track before her, and the sheer drop to her right.
Stella, who was ahead, having already navigated the scary bit, turned round.
‘Yes, you can. Hold on to the rocks and don’t look down. It’s not as bad as you think.’
A bit further on, they came to a steep, uphill section covered in precarious scree, which they had to pick their way over.
When Stella tripped and almost fell, Jon reached back to offer his hand, but she shook her head.
‘I’m all right, thanks. I wasn’t looking properly.’
They had to stop twice to allow a young couple and a group of middle-aged foreigners to pass by in the opposite direction, but otherwise, they had the mountain to themselves.
It was hot and there wasn’t a scrap of shade. Stella was pleased she’d worn her navy baseball cap. Jon had been forced to remove his Panama because it kept blowing off. He’d slathered his bald patch in thick factor fifty, which gleamed white in the bright morning light, making him look rather peculiar.
Stella found herself thinking she was relieved Al still had a good head of hair, until she remembered they weren’t together any more.
Her pace slowed and her feet started to drag. Before the final split, Al had kept complaining she was pushing him away. Husbands and wives were supposed to share their feelings and support each other, he’d said.
‘I know you’re grieving, but how can I help when you won’t talk to me?’
They were in the kitchen. The kids had just left for school and Stella was clearing away the breakfast things. Harriet had been gone six weeks and now the funeral was over, Jemima had returned to her classes. Jon, meanwhile, was technically back at work, but there were days when he simply couldn’t function properly. Today being one of them, Stella had promised to go for a long walk with him instead.
She could ill afford the time. The cupboards were bare at home and she desperately needed to do a supermarket trip. Plus, she had two quite lucrative dinner party bookings coming up which she might have to cancel if she couldn’t devote enough time to the preparations. This was weighing on her mind.
‘Stella?’ Al nudged her because he could tell her thoughts was elsewhere. ‘I need you to talk to me.’
She wanted to scream at him to go away and leave her alone; she couldn’t face a discussion now.
‘What do you want me to say?’ she’d replied instead in a sullen voice, opening the dishwasher and deliberately stacking it noisily with cutlery, bowls and mugs. ‘You know how stretched I am. It must be boring listening to me repeating myself.’
Al rose from the sofa, where he’d been carefully watching her, and started to put away the cereal packets on the table.
‘What can I do to make things easier for you?’ he’d asked again.
It was a genuine question, but her nerves were even more frayed than usual.
‘Can you go to the supermarket and make supper and organise the catering for the two parties I’ve got coming up and spend time with Jon, who’s in a bad way today? Oh, and meet Jemima after school to talk about uni options, and think about meals for her and Jon, too, and make sure the washing’s up to date?’
He was in a clean white shirt and navy trousers, ready for the office. She knew full well he wouldn’t be able to do half those things.
‘No,’ he’d said with a sigh, ‘I can’t take time off, sorry. But I can shop for us after work and make supper, and do you really need to see Jon? Isn’t there someone else who could keep him company today?’
She turned and glared at her husband with flashing eyes.
‘There’s no one else; you know that perfectly well.’
‘Could you get someone in to help you with the catering? Just as a temporary measure, I mean?’
‘Who? Good chefs don’t grow on trees. Besides, I don’t make enough to justify paying someone else as well.’
Realising he was on a losing wicket and she’d bat everything he suggested straight back, he tried another tack.
‘Hasn’t Lily got a hockey match after school?’
‘Yes, and I’ve told her I can’t go.’
‘That’s a shame. You enjoy watching her. She’ll be sorry you’re not there.’
Stella stuck her hands on her hips.
‘Don’t guilt-trip me. Why don’t you go instead?’
‘I wish I could, but I can’t.’
She snorted meanly. ‘Hah! Well then, get off my back.’
He seemed to sway a little, and there was uncertainty in his eyes.
‘Stella?’ he said, holding out his arms, wanting her to walk in and make everything better, but tears pricked her eyes and she shook her head.
‘I can’t, Al. I’m sorry.’
Turning back to the dishwasher, she heard him give a deep sigh before leaving the room. A few moments later, he slammed the front door behind him and was gone.
Looking back, she could see how difficult she’d been to live with – bad-tempered and martyrish. Her excuse was, she’d been so unhappy and consumed with grief, she couldn’t really think about anyone or anything, other than Harriet, Jon and Jemima. If only Al had let her be for a while. Ironically, it was his insistence on trying to be a good husband and get close to her that had driven her away.
Louise, who was ahead of Stella on the walk, stopped for a drink of water, making her refocus and stop, too. Louise looked like a seasoned hiker in her sturdy brown leather boots, thick socks, tan shorts, white T-shirt and khaki cotton hat with a wide brim.
She’d brought walking poles as well. Amelia had teased her about them before they set off, but was using them now, much to the amusement of Lily and Will. She said they were especially useful going downhill.
They’d been hiking for well over an hour when Louise clambered onto a flat rock and pointed.
‘I can see the path down to the beach. We’re almost there.’
They stood on tiptoe and peered round the side of her. The wide, crescent-shaped bay was clearly visible now and almost empty, save for a few rows of blue and white umbrellas in certain places.
The sea was so clear, you could spot the rocks and stones beneath. Stella couldn’t wait to explore underwater in her snorkelling gear.
Not for the first time that morning, she thought of Hector and greyness descended once more. It was sad he wasn’t with them. He used to love snorkelling, too. When he was about ten, they’d been on a family holiday to the Red Sea in Egypt and he’d spent practically the whole two weeks underwater with Stella, checking out the astonishing, multi-coloured sea life. Their fingers and toes were permanently like prunes. She was sure he’d have enjoyed the walk, too, if he’d only given himself permission to come.
A familiar anxiety nibbled at her insides. What was he doing now? Probably lying in bed in the dark, smoking roll-ups and getting more depressed.
Worry and a recurring sense of failure were grinding her down, leaving her feeling permanently exhausted. She tried to bat away the negative feelings by focusing harder on the view.
Their pace quickened as they began the steep descent and Lily started talking about lunch.
‘D’you think they’ll do proper food, not just sandwiches?’
They’d already decided to eat at The Mermaid Island Taverna, which stood on rocks a little way from the shore and could be reached via a wooden jetty.
‘They do all sorts of things,’ Stella replied. ‘Lots of fresh fish.’
When they finally stepped onto the white shingly beach and found a good spot to park their bags, Will immediately threw off his clothes and ran into the waves.
After putting on his bathing trunks, Jon spread out his towel next to Stella’s and sat for a few moments, staring out to sea.
They were just beyond the taverna, which looked charmingly rustic with its wooden sides and grassy canopy. Some people were eating and drinking in the outside dining area, but the place didn’t appear to be full.
‘I read it’s called Sweetwater Beach because there’s spring water just below the surface of the pebbles,’ Stella said, picking up a small, smooth, greyish stone and stroking it between her fingers. ‘You can dig for it. It comes from underground mountain springs and apparently you can drink it. Isn’t that amazing? No wonder the sea’s so clear.’
‘Mm.’ Jon nodded but she sensed he wasn’t really listening. He seemed a bit agitated, for some reason, tapping his fingers on his knee as if playing the piano.
‘Coming in?’ he said at last, rising and extending a hand.
He had an apprehensive frown, as if he feared she’d reject his offer. Not wishing to disappoint, she accepted his hand and allowed him to pull her up.
‘You go ahead,’ she said, once she was on her feet. ‘My swimsuit’s in the bag. I won’t be long.’
She hoped Louise and the girls would join them, but they were flat on their backs with their eyes closed and didn’t appear to have any intention of moving.
Will was still out there, swimming parallel to the beach, practising his manly crawl, but he’d probably have had enough soon.
Once she’d changed and pulled out her mask and snorkel, she padded gingerly over the pebbles to the water and tested the temperature with her toes. It was surprisingly chilly.
Jon was floating on his back a little way out, his feet facing the shore. As soon as he spotted her, he righted himself and gave a big wave.
‘It’s beautiful once you’re in,’ he called. ‘I’ve warmed up already.’
She felt a shiver of annoyance, but quickly checked herself. She must never forget what he’d suffered and how much he still needed support. It was a miracle she’d persuaded him to come on holiday at all. She hoped Harriet, wherever she might be, was looking down on them and smiling.
Will started swimming in Stella’s direction and she waded out to meet him. His feet soon touched the ground and he began to emerge, soaking wet, with a cheeky grin on his face.
Stella read his mind. ‘Don’t you dare splash! I’ll kill you!’
He laughed and teasingly flicked water at her before running to join the others. She braced herself. She was up to her hips now and there was no point delaying any longer.
A little way in front was a small wave, not much more than a ripple, really. Taking a deep breath, she plunged in headfirst, still hanging onto her mask and snorkel.
The cold made her go numb and her heart raced, but it was exhilarating, too. She came up, gasping for air and almost crashed into Jon.
‘Oh! You made me jump!’
‘Sorry.’ He was waist deep in the water and standing rather stiffly, his eyes darting this way and that.
‘It’s cold but lovely,’ she said, wondering what was making him so nervous. She began to put on her mask. ‘I’m going on a fish safari.’
‘Wait!’
Startled by his tone, she stopped in her tracks.
‘Come with me,’ he commanded.
Before she had time to ask why, he took hold of her upper arm and started to pull her away from the beach.
‘Where are we going?’
‘There.’ He pointed with his other hand to a rocky area at the edge of the bay. ‘There’ll be plenty of fish round those boulders.’
Now she knew what he was planning, she felt more comfortable, though his manner disturbed her. She was relieved when he released his grip and they started to half swim, half wade in silence past the taverna towards the cliff edge, well away from the others, who became nothing more than distant pinpricks.
After a while, he led them into a patch of deeper water where they could no longer touch the bottom and had to swim. He seemed to know exactly where he was aiming.
‘We’ll head for that big rock just ahead. It looks like a good one to sit on.’
She felt like saying she wanted to explore, not sit around, but feared sounding curt and hurting his feelings. Besides, he was so focused on reaching his destination, she doubted he’d even hear her.
When they were just a few feet from the rock, she put the snorkel in her mouth and started to pull down her mask. Once again, he stopped her.
‘Wait a minute – please. I need to talk to you.’
There were deep wrinkles on his forehead and he kept blinking, as if he’d developed a nervous tic or had something in his eye.
Stella’s heart pitter-pattered. ‘What about?’
When he didn’t reply, she was gripped by a powerful urge to swim back to shore. She could pretend she felt sick, but he’d know she was lying. She’d have to hear him out or risk causing serious offence.
He started to scramble up the side of the boulder, covered in bits of vegetation and crusty-looking barnacles.
She followed as quickly as she could and in the process, nicked her calf on something spiky. It was only a small scratch but looking down, she could see it was bleeding profusely. Damn. Another injury to add to her ever-growing list.
As soon as he was standing on top of the rock, he bent down to help her and reluctantly, she let him grip her by the wrists and haul her up. She felt a bit like a piece of furniture, but he was stronger than he looked and it was all over quickly.
At first, she couldn’t find a comfortable place to sit. The rock looked reasonably flat, but on closer inspection, there were lots of hard, spiky bumps on the surface. After shuffling back a bit and sweeping off some loose stones, however, she managed to find a smooth enough patch on which to settle.
Her calf and foot were covered in blood, washed to a pale, pinkish red by the water. Jon’s frown was so deep, she might as well have broken her leg in several places.
‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made you climb up. It was stupid of me.’
‘Don’t be silly, it’s nothing. It’s just a tiny scrape. There’s only so much blood because I’ve been in the sea.’
The silence that followed felt laden with a meaning Stella couldn’t begin to decode. After a few minutes, unable to bear the tension any longer, she screwed up all her courage and seized the initiative.
‘What did you want to talk about?’ Her voice sounded smaller than she’d intended.
Jon gave a big sigh.
‘There’s no easy way to say this.’ His tone was so grave and portentous, it made the hairs on the back of Stella’s neck stand up, and her stomach lurched. ‘I’m in love with you, Stella. I’ve been in love with you for a long time, since well before Harriet?—’
A nervous laugh bubbled up in her throat and shot out before she could stop it. ‘Sorry,’ she said, covering her mouth with a hand. ‘I couldn’t help?—’
‘Stella, I’m not kidding?—’
She stared at him and her jaw dropped as reality sank in: he was deadly serious.
‘Stop!’
She raised her hand, palm open and facing forward. ‘Don’t say anything else. You don’t mean it. You’re not thinking straight; you’re still grieving. I never heard what you just said. It never happened.’
While she spoke, he shook his head from side to side, slowly and deliberately. It made her want to slap him and bring him to his senses.
His statement was so absurd, she couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. Of course it wasn’t true, it couldn’t be. But if it was… She shivered, though she wasn’t cold, and squeezed her eyes tightly shut.
‘Please, just hear me out.’
The crack in his voice forced her to open her eyes again and pay attention. His own eyes were heavy and the corners of his mouth sagged.
She felt confused, both sorry for him and angry with him for putting her in this extremely uncomfortable position.
‘Please?’ he repeated.
She hugged her arms tightly round her body.
‘Okay, if you really want to. But you’re not in your right mind. I’m worried you’ll regret it.’
At this, he drew up his knees, widened his legs and folded himself between them, as if for protection. His arms were long and stiff and his hands grasped each other tightly.
‘It’s all true, Stella,’ he said slowly. ‘I mean every word. I think I must have always loved you, but when Harriet was alive, I didn’t allow myself to go there. I put you in a box, so to speak, and kept the lid firmly shut.’
A sudden, horrible thought made Stella gasp. She felt as if her head might explode.
‘Did Harriet know?’ Her voice sounded shrill and piercing.
‘No. Absolutely not.’
This was something, at least. She took a deep breath.
‘How do you know?’ she said more gently.
‘Because I never gave her any reason to suspect. I loved her. I’d never have done anything to hurt her. What I want to say is…’ He cleared his throat and she felt a renewed sense of dread. ‘Now Harriet’s gone and Al’s left,’ he went on, falteringly, ‘I’d like to think you and I could maybe, you know, well, make a go of things. We’ve got so much in common. I know we could be happy. What do you think?’
At first his head was bowed, so she couldn’t read his expression. But then he straightened up and gave her a penetrating stare.
She felt invaded, violated, even, as if he were probing into her soul, trying to uncover its innermost secrets. Gripped with revulsion, she had to stop herself from jumping in the water to wash herself clean.
As far as she was concerned, he was still Harriet’s husband and always would be. To have a relationship with him was unthinkable. It would be the ultimate betrayal. It would almost feel like incest. Added to this, she wasn’t attracted to him. She didn’t even think she liked him much any more.
Her first instinct was to tell him the bitter truth, but then she remembered Harriet. When she’d sat in the funeral parlour beside her friend’s coffin, with tears streaming down her cheeks, she’d solemnly promised again to look after Jon and Jemima for her, come what may.
No matter how misguided Jon was, she couldn’t turn her back on him. Somehow, she had to find a way to put him off without destroying their friendship.
There was no time to mull over the best way to put it all into words, however. He was watching her, waiting for her answer.
‘I’m really touched,’ she said hesitantly, stretching out her legs, her gaze fixed firmly on the hands in her lap. ‘Sorry for sounding angry; I was just so surprised?—’
‘It’s okay, I understand. You weren’t expecting it.’
Her swimsuit was almost dry and the sun was beating down on her back and shoulders. The blood on her foot and calf had turned rusty brown.
‘I’m honoured you think so highly of me and you know I’m very fond of you…’
There was a sharp intake of breath; he didn’t like that word, ‘fond.’
‘But the truth is, I can’t ever have a relationship with you. It wouldn’t seem right, because of Harriet. I’d feel I was being disloyal to her memory.’
Jon made a strange sound, a cross between a cry and a groan.
‘Disloyal?’ he repeated. ‘I profoundly disagree. I think it would be a great tribute to her. If I hadn’t loved her with all my heart when she was alive, I’d hardly want a relationship with her closest friend, would I?’
Stella frowned.
‘What about Jemima? It would be awful for her to think of us together. Imagine trying to explain it to her friends. They might assume something was going on before Harriet died.’
‘Rubbish.’ Jon’s body had tensed up. ‘Jemima adores you. She’d love me to be happy. She’d rather I was with you than some strange woman she mightn’t get on with.’
Stella’s shoulders drooped and she picked savagely at some peeling skin on the side of her thumbnail. It seemed he had an answer for everything.
‘Could you love me, if there weren’t these objections?’ he asked tentatively.
Her head ached and there was a throbbing pain behind her eyes. How could she give him the honest answer, but kindly? She didn’t dare look at him for fear of giving herself away.
For a moment, she pictured Al standing right in front of her, frowning with exasperation and running a hand through his thick, silver-flecked hair.
Why are you beating about the bush, Stella? Just tell him the truth, for God’s sake. Stop trying to people please. It doesn’t work. Give him a clear, direct message. It’s the kindest way. You don’t fancy him, that’s all there is to it. He’ll be upset, of course, but he’s a big boy. He’ll get over it.
If only she could guarantee Jon wouldn’t fall apart!
But there was no certainty, and Stella knew she couldn’t bear to inflict more pain by being so frank. Stumped, she cast around desperately for a suitable response and almost cried with relief when a fresh idea sprang to mind.
‘There’s another thing,’ she said, sensing Jon stiffen again. ‘I’m not over Al. I thought I was but I’m not. I miss him a lot. I keep thinking about him, especially here, for some reason. I know initially I was the one who wanted the separation, but I’m beginning to think I’ve made a mistake.’
‘Really?’ Jon’s disbelief was palpable. ‘Not long ago, you told me you were completely over him. What’s changed?’
Stella felt a prickle of annoyance. She shouldn’t have to justify her feelings to him; to anyone, in fact.
‘I don’t know. Maybe it’s being here, in such a beautiful place. It reminds me of all the happy times we had together. It wasn’t all bad, by any means. We worked really well together for a long time. It was only towards the end things began to fall apart, and I’m sure that was my fault as much as his. In fact, it was probably mostly my fault because I was so sad about Harriet. I’m wondering if we should try again.’
She didn’t like lying and the fib had come so easily, she’d surprised herself. But she took some comfort in knowing her words weren’t totally false. She had been thinking about Al more than usual and in a more positive way. All she’d done now was exaggerate the truth.
Jon stood up and started pacing to and fro across the rock.
‘I can’t believe I’m hearing this,’ he said accusingly. ‘You told me a few minutes ago I wasn’t in my right mind. Well actually, I think that applies to you. Have you forgotten what you said about Al? His selfishness? The way he was always trying to force himself on you?’
He stared at her with blazing eyes.
‘You’re wrong, Stella. You shouldn’t be with Al. You did the right thing, splitting up. You should be with me .’
Stella swallowed. She’d once told Jon on the phone about Al’s frequent requests for sex, and bitterly regretted it. Jon made it all sound much worse than it really had been.
She and Al used to have a great love life, but she’d gone off physical contact completely when Harriet died, and he simply couldn’t understand. In his eyes, sex and love were the same thing and the more she turned him down, the more desperate and needy he became. He wasn’t an ogre, though, and he certainly never hurt her physically.
Thinking she couldn’t take much more of the conversation, she rose and brushed the bits of shingle off her bottom and thighs.
‘There’s no point talking about this any longer. We’ve both said how we feel. We need to put it behind us.’
Jon, looking pained, opened his mouth to say something else, but she pulled the mask down firmly over her eyes and nose.
‘I’m off to find some fish.’ She walked to the edge of the rock and prepared to jump. ‘Feel free to go to the restaurant with the others. Don’t wait for me. I’ll catch up with you later.’