Chapter Twelve
DIDO SAT, SURVEYING her daughter’s face in the glow of the night light. The splay of dark lashes on warm olive skin. The curve of cheek and lips that she always found indescribably moving. The small fingers curled around the yellow fur of Bear’s leg.
Maternal warmth filled her. But she didn’t experience the peace that usually came from seeing Theeny sleep. Dido was too shaken by what had happened downstairs.
She’d never seen Panos, or anyone, look that way. The colour had drained from his features and he seemed hollowed out. No, that wasn’t right. He hadn’t looked empty, but as if he struggled to contain all he felt.
His expression had been tortured.
Dido had resented recounting the story of what happened three years previously. She should have been able to explain at the time. It was his unreasonable refusal to hear her out that destroyed their relationship. That and his mistrust.
She’d told herself there was nothing he could do to win back her good opinion.
Yet as she’d watched her words take their toll, she’d felt no satisfaction. Her focus hadn’t been on her feelings but his. For Panos’ reaction had been gut-wrenching. She’d felt his horror.
Did she still care about him so much?
Scarily, it seemed so.
She shook her head. How was it even possible he believed her after all this time? She’d given no absolute proof. What proof could there be? It was Charlie’s word against hers and Panos had been quick to judge the first time.
A growl of thunder sounded in the distance. It was coming more often, a storm moving in. The wind had built in the hour since Panos had disappeared into the night.
Eventually Dido had left the table, tidying up and making her way upstairs.
But sleep had been impossible. Her emotions were a quagmire.
Satisfaction at finally having her say competed with sharp regret for the lost dream of their perfect romance.
Momentary triumph even, at seeing him realise how badly he’d treated her.
There was pain too, for herself and, remarkably, for Panos. She’d tried to hold on to righteous indignation but it was impossible when he was clearly gutted.
She didn’t think she’d ever forget the sound of his voice saying he was sorry.
Those two words weren’t nearly enough after what he’d done, yet she couldn’t rejoice in his shock and misery. She’d been reaching for him when he strode from the room.
Thunder boomed close to the house and with it came rain, light at first, bringing the petrichor scent of fresh rainwater on baked earth. But soon it was drumming down. She looked out as another bolt of lightning lit the sky and for a second saw a hunched figure in the distance.
A moment later the night was black again, the moon obscured. But the image of that figure was branded on her retinas.
Panos. She only recognised him because there was no other person on the island. The bowed head, slumped shoulders and hunched curve of his back belonged to someone other than the proud, capable man she knew. He looked defeated, a word she’d never imagined to describe him.
Dido tried to conjure common sense, reminding herself he deserved to feel rotten about what he’d done.
It didn’t make her feel better.
Where did this leave them? Even if Panos believed her and regretted his actions, he was still a man she couldn’t wholly trust. Wasn’t he?
If she were advising a friend she’d warn her off a man who’d treated her so reprehensibly.
But things didn’t seem so black-and-white.
Especially given the snippets he’d revealed about his life and relationships, or lack of them.
Raised by paid servants who hadn’t even let a lonely child into the warmth of the kitchen.
His first—and only?—love had wanted payment for sex.
Women falsely claimed he’d fathered their children to get money from him.
Any public missteps were fodder for the voracious press.
Dido barely comprehended what his life had been like. For seventeen years she’d been secure in her parents’ love. They’d supported each other as she and her aunt did now.
It shouldn’t surprise her that Panos had learned distrust. That didn’t excuse his actions, but as she listened to the downpour and imagined him out there, battered by the elements, sympathy mingled with impatience.
Had anyone, ever, befriended him out of anything other than self-interest? Or comforted him when he was hurt?
Her gaze strayed to her precious daughter, thinking of how her wobbling bottom lip would widen into a smile when Dido kissed her hurt better.
Panos was a grown man, not an infant. He knew the island far better than her. He’d be perfectly fine. Yet she couldn’t go to bed while he was out there.
* * *
He hadn’t moved since she’d seen him in a flash of lightning, sitting on a rock perched above the beach.
The rain was just a sprinkle now but in the light of her phone’s torch, she saw his hair plastered to his skull and his clothes sodden, clinging to broad, bowed shoulders.
He didn’t look at the small glimmer of moonlight shining on the sea through a gap in the clouds.
Instead his head hung as he stared at the rock between his feet, hands clasped between his knees.
‘Panos.’ He didn’t respond, didn’t even seem to hear. She stepped closer and raised her voice. ‘Panos.’
He stiffened, head rising slowly between slumped shoulders, though he didn’t turn. His voice was so raw it shocked her. ‘Go inside, Dido. There’s no point you getting wet.’
‘The storm’s clearing.’
As if that mattered. She’d thought he looked miserable when she saw him from the window, but up close his air of desolation reminded her of the terrible grief she’d felt after her parents died and her world turned on its head.
Was that what had happened to Panos? Had the world turned on its head?
But surely he’d been wrong before. Surely he’d jumped to conclusions he later regretted.
‘It’s better you go in,’ he said hoarsely. ‘I can’t, not yet. I don’t…’
She shivered, rubbing her hands up her bare arms, suddenly conscious that she wore only her skimpy red nightie. Stupid to act so impulsively but the need to go to him had been a compulsion.
Despite the now clearing rain, the night was warm. The cold she felt had another source.
‘You don’t what? Don’t want to face the fact you made a mistake?
Or is it me you can’t face? Either way there’s no point sitting out here feeling sorry for yourself.
You can feel miserable in the comfort of a dry house.
Once I know you’re inside and not about to be struck by lightning, maybe I can relax and get some rest at last.’
That hadn’t come out the way she intended but he wasn’t the only one strung out by tonight’s revelations.
Dido had gone from wanting nothing more than to stay in his bed, to answering his questions then reliving one of the worst times of her life.
She was bombarded by so many mixed emotions she didn’t know how she felt. All she knew was she didn’t hate him as she’d once told herself she did.
Slowly he turned to face her, his face deeply shadowed, yet she felt the weight of his gaze. ‘You wouldn’t be happy if I got blasted by lightning? After what I did?’
‘Of course not. Don’t say such a thing.’
Dido knew he didn’t mean it literally, but she remembered the shock of losing her parents to a freak accident, there one minute and gone the next. She couldn’t wish such a thing on anyone.
‘You’re a remarkable woman, Dido Jones.’
‘I’m not at all remarkable.’
A crack of laughter filled the air. ‘Yet I’ve never met anyone like you.’
She was about to tell him he’d mixed with the wrong people but snapped her mouth closed. That truth cut too close to the bone.
He rose and she was struck again by the urge to tuck herself in against him and seek solace for them both in a cuddle.
‘I wasn’t feeling sorry for myself. I was feeling sorry for you, realising how much you’d suffered because of me.
I’m furious with myself.’ He continued before she could interrupt.
‘My intransigence was the problem, that and my readiness to believe the worst. Because of that I destroyed our relationship. Because of that, because of me, you suffered alone. You had no one with you when you needed help. If I’d known, I’d have gone to you. ’
‘I don’t need your sympathy. I survived.’
Yet pain pinched her chest at how much she’d lost. At the idea of him being there, sharing the excitement of her pregnancy and supporting her through the difficult days and nights.
It was silly because chances were they’d have separated eventually. Everyone said strangers marrying in haste was a recipe for disaster.
‘Of course you survived. You’re a strong, remarkable woman and I admire you.’
‘You’ve changed your tune.’ The words burst free despite her concern for him. ‘You wouldn’t even hear my side of the story. Why take my word for it now?’
His hands flexed and he rolled one shoulder as if easing strain there.
‘The truth? I don’t completely know. Except for the glaring difference between the woman I’ve come to know and the woman I believed you to be three years ago.
Every day, every hour that difference is like a fist slamming into my chest, pounding out doubt after doubt.
Even someone as prejudiced as I couldn’t ignore it. ’
‘But you wanted to.’
It was like prodding a sore tooth, raising old grievances.
‘Yes and no. For a long time I refused to concede any doubt about what you’d done. It was easier to retreat into my own world and pull up the drawbridge behind me. I was used to being alone. That’s how I’ve always lived. It seemed impossible we could have a future.’
‘Until you found out about Athena.’
He nodded. It was a timely reminder. This rapprochement was about their daughter, not Dido, nor them as a couple. She needed to remember that.