Prologue #2
On reflection, she had no intention, really, of renting it to the Englishwoman, but couldn’t bear to think of Henrietta seeing Villa Ariadne in anything but its best light.
The house felt part of Katerina, like a much-loved relative, perhaps, or family friend.
It mustn’t be allowed to let itself – or her – down.
Having unlocked the big, black iron gates outside the villa, she had to spin round and use all the strength in her shoulders, back and buttocks to force them open.
Then she paused for a moment on the gravel forecourt, gazing at the grand, rather majestic-looking building with a mixture of awe and affection. She gave a small smile.
‘Hello, my dear,’ she muttered under her breath. ‘We have an unexpected visitor today. I wonder what you’ll make of her.’
Once inside, she flung open the sky-blue shutters and let in some fresh air. Then she strolled round the empty rooms, taking in everything as if for the first time: the polished dark wood table in the hall; the fancy chessboard on an antique wooden table and the original artwork.
Everything felt peaceful, calm and orderly, almost as if the villa were slumbering, or just resting quietly until the next guests arrived to shake everything up.
Paintings adorned the walls of every room and quite a few depicted scenes from the ancient Greek myths, including Jason with his Argonauts and Perseus slaying the gorgon, Medusa.
The pieces Katerina liked most, though, were three portraits of the same, rather handsome and slightly sad-looking woman at different stages of her life.
Pausing in front of the third painting, Katerina inclined her head and whispered, ‘Bless you, My Lady. Soon, you will meet your darling Marina again. You will see how well she is doing.’
Closing her eyes for a moment, she pictured Marina, now a local artist, as a small girl, and smiled. She’d been the sweetest little thing, full of sunlight and laughter, despite her difficult start in life.
For a moment, Katerina’s mind strayed back to the terrible scenes she’d witnessed between ‘My Lady’, her former employer, Mrs Skordyles, and her husband, who was the local mayor. The memories still sent shivers up and down Katerina’s spine.
Mr Skordyles’s rage had been immense and terrifying when he’d discovered his wife was pregnant after a clandestine affair.
To avoid the shame of public humiliation and divorce, she’d had to agree to keep the baby a secret and give her up as soon as she was born.
Katerina had been tasked with finding the unwanted child a suitable home to grow up in.
She’d made the right decision, she thought, giving herself a mental pat on the back, in choosing her dear friend Cora, from the village. Cora was childless, and her husband, Konstantin Makris, was Marina’s real father who still owned a leather shop in the village to this day.
As Cora’s image floated before Katerina’s eyes, she frowned and could feel her body start to shake. Cora was dead now, but she’d been a wonderful mother. Konstantin, however, had caused her untold pain and distress due to his constant philandering.
How a man like him could have fathered as beautiful a soul as Marina was a complete mystery to Katerina, and she hated him with a passion. At least he’d been a good, loving father, or she might have been tempted to do him harm.
In return for Katerina’s help with the baby, Mrs Skordyles had left Villa Ariadne to her, with strict instructions to do something good with it.
‘I hope you can see I’ve kept my word,’ Katerina muttered under her breath to the portrait before her. ‘I will not lend this villa to anyone unless I’m certain you – and Villa Ariadne – will approve.’
A loud rap on the oak front door made her start and she hurried to open up. She was greeted by a smiling Marina, who flung her arms round Katerina as if they hadn’t seen each other for years.
‘How are you, Kati?’ Marina gave a tinkling little laugh, like wind chimes, and the bracelets on her slim wrists jangled merrily.
‘As well as can be expected for an old person like me,’ Katerina replied. She wasn’t going to mention her funny turn yesterday.
Marina took a step back and laughed again, a little less certainly this time.
‘Well, you look great to me, as usual, like a woman half your age. I reckon you’ll outlive us all!’
The two women strolled arm in arm to the kitchen, where Katerina made coffee from a fresh packet she’d brought with her today.
Then they took their drinks onto the terrace and sat round the large wooden table, enjoying what they knew to be the last week or two of really warm sunshine before winter would inevitably set in.
While they talked, Katerina studied Marina surreptitiously, taking in her mane of beautiful, long, black, wavy hair, her deep-set brown eyes, slim face and strong, Greek nose, so like her mother’s.
She was in her early fifties now, a mature woman, but Katerina loved her as fiercely as she would a child of her own; she’d do anything to protect her.
Marina began to describe her latest art project, a series of paintings of the mountains at different times of the day and evening. Katerina listened with interest and became so engrossed in the details, she quite forgot about Henrietta, whose arrival felt like an intrusion.
‘We’ll keep the meeting short,’ Katerina said with a tsk, rising when they heard the Englishwoman at the door. ‘I really shouldn’t have invited her at all.’
‘I’m curious to meet her,’ Marina replied calmly. ‘In all these years, I’ve never had a proper conversation with her.’
Henrietta’s eyes darted this way and that as she sat between the two women and described her wellness retreats: the aim, how they were structured, the types of people who signed up, the other instructors, and so on.
She was clearly nervous and Marina tried to put her at her ease.
‘What a great idea! I’d love to do something like that, if I had the time,’ she said, her eyes soft and encouraging.
Katerina frowned again. The more she thought about it, the less she liked the notion. A dozen or so women crawling all over the villa, treating it like a holiday camp. It was hardly what My Lady had had in mind when she’d bequeathed the place to her.
Katerina was about to raise her objections when Marina gave a cry.
‘Look! A robin!’
Sure enough, a small, plump, brown-backed bird with an unmistakably red breast had landed on the arm of an empty chair and was staring at them inquisitively from the other end of the table.
Its round, fearless little black eyes appeared very intelligent and it seemed to be assessing the women, trying to work out if they were people to be trusted and worth knowing.
‘Good Lord!’ Katerina said. ‘That’s early in the season. We don’t normally see robins till the end of November or December.’
Marina smiled. ‘I think it’s trying to tell us something. Listen!’
The bird made a sharp, ‘zick’ call, followed by a series of cheerful, silvery chirpings, with pauses in between. The notes seemed to rise and fall unpredictably in an ever-changing pattern of merry chirps and warbles.
As it sang, the robin puffed out its chest and flapped its wings ostentatiously. The three women couldn’t help but grin.
‘He’s so pleased with himself!’ Marina commented. ‘Quite right too. Such a handsome little chap!’
Katerina nodded, but her grin slowly started to fade. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes for a few moments, allowing herself to soak up the sounds and scents of her surroundings.
When she opened them again, the little robin wagged its tail and swooped off, landing on a branch some way away. Marina looked at the old woman curiously.
‘What are you thinking?’ she asked, cocking her head on one side just as the robin had done.
A sudden gust of wind blew through the trees and bushes, making the leaves rustle. Katerina looked squarely at Marina and sighed.
‘I’m thinking we should show Henrietta round the house now,’ she replied. ‘I suggest you do upstairs and we’ll both do the ground floor. Don’t forget to point out the bathrooms and cupboards. There’s plenty of storage. I trust everything will be to her satisfaction.’
Henrietta sat up straight and gave a small cry.
‘Oh! So you mean you might be willing to rent us the villa after all?’
Katerina gave a slight incline of the head.
‘But that’s fabulous! You won’t regret it!’ the Englishwoman went on, in a rush of excitement and surprise. ‘I thought you were going to say no. What’s made you change your mind?’
This time, Katerina cleared her throat before fixing her eyes on Henrietta with a deep, impenetrable gaze.
‘You need to understand something,’ she said solemnly, ‘before we finalise anything. I don’t decide who stays here. In fact, I have no real say at all. Villa Ariadne selects its own guests very carefully. And on this occasion, for whatever reason, it has chosen you.’