Chapter 16
The arrivals hall at Heathrow shimmered with the usual blur of movement – luggage trolleys rattling, voices echoing, and a smell of coffee hung in the air.
The three women had already agreed to make their farewells as quick and painless as possible. They all hated goodbyes and in any case, they knew they’d be in touch soon and planned to arrange a reunion.
Cleo hovered for a moment with Maya by the arrivals gate and watched Tash hurry to the station to catch a train to Reading.
‘I’m going to get the tube,’ Maya said. ‘Coming?’
Cleo shook her head. ‘I think I’ll grab a coffee first. I want to gather my thoughts before heading home. Have a safe journey.’
Having lost her phone in the earthquake, she’d barely managed to speak to Danny or Erica. All she’d done was send the odd text on someone else’s mobile to say she was OK.
To some extent, out of sight had been out of mind, especially as she’d been so busy. Now, though, the problems she’d been having with her daughter came crashing back and seemed to settle on her shoulders like a dark, heavy cape.
Straightening up, she told herself to be strong. She’d discovered an untapped source of strength in Crete and she was going to need to find it again now she was back in England.
Her hands tightened round the handle of her bag as she made for the exit barriers. There was quite a crowd waiting there in anticipation, watching the automatic doors slide open and passengers spill into the hall.
Some were taxi drivers no doubt, holding up boards with names on them, others looked like excited loved ones.
All of a sudden, through the throng, she spotted a familiar face and her heart seemed to stop.
Erica.
Her dark hair was pulled back in a messy bun, she had a slight tan and she looked a little older, perhaps, a little more herself.
Their eyes met and for a few seconds, neither moved. Then Erica pointed to a gap in the barriers – and ran. Cleo ran too, opened her arms and caught her daughter in a fierce embrace.
The familiar scent of her soap and shampoo and the feel of her slender shoulders shaking undid Cleo completely.
‘Oh, Mum,’ Erica whispered, her voice thick with emotion. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. Thank God you’re safe.’
Cleo’s throat closed. She cupped Erica’s face in her hands and brushed away the tears.
‘It’s all right. You’re here. That’s all that matters.’
For a while they just stood there, clinging to each other as the crowd moved around them. It was as if the airport, the noise, the bustle and fluorescent lights had vanished, leaving only the two of them and years of love that had never really gone away.
When they finally broke apart, Erica smiled through her tears.
‘You look… good. Different somehow.’
Cleo smiled. ‘It’s been the most extraordinary experience. Terrible in some ways, amazing in others. Life-changing, really. Someday I’ll tell you all about it.’
They didn’t speak as they walked together to the car park, but the silence felt comfortable rather than strained. Outside, the air felt cool, even though it was summer, and it had just started to drizzle with rain.
‘Ah! Good old England,’ Cleo said to herself with a smile. She’d swear it always rained when she returned from holiday.
Erica unlocked her ancient, black VW Polo and threw Cleo’s bag in the boot.
‘I’ve missed you,’ Cleo said quietly, as London passed by her window in a greyish blur.
‘I’ve missed you too,’ Erica replied, her eyes fixed on the road. ‘I was so angry. I thought if you’d just taken Dad back, everything would have gone back to normal. But it wasn’t fair to put that on you.’
Cleo looked at her daughter’s profile – the strong line of her jaw, just like her father’s, and the warmth in her grey-blue eyes.
‘You were hurting,’ she said gently. ‘We all were. But some things can’t be put back the way they were before.’
Erica nodded, blinking hard. ‘I know that now. I do see what you mean about not wanting to lose yourself just to keep the peace. I think… I think I finally understand. I’m sorry it took me so long.’
Cleo reached over and rested her hand on Erica’s leg. ‘I do love you, and I still love your dad, in a way. I know that’s hard for you to believe, but we had two beautiful children and we were married for a great many years.
‘We had some really happy times together, fantastic times. You don’t forget those just because the relationship had to end. The memories remain. They can’t just be wiped away.’
Erica glanced at her. ‘I’m proud of you, Mum. You’re very brave.’
Cleo felt tears sting her eyes again. ‘And I’m proud of you, my darling.’
When they turned into Cleo’s street, Erica reached over and squeezed her mother’s hand.
‘Danny’s coming tonight. He’s on the train now from uni. He can’t wait to see you.’
Cleo took a long, deep breath and her heart seemed to float upwards, out of her body and into the air above her head.
‘How wonderful!’ she said softly. ‘We’ll be together again – at last.’
As soon as she walked in the door, Cleo could tell something about the house was different. For a start, there was a fresh bunch of pink roses on the vintage hall table and a faint smell of lavender polish in the air.
The boiler was also humming and the brightly patterned rug, that ran along almost the entire length of the hallway, had been vacuumed. Erica had clearly been here already, and she’d been busy.
‘You go and unpack,’ she said bossily to her mother. ‘I’ll make supper.’
Cleo did as she was told. Upstairs, she was grateful to find clean sheets on her bed and another small vase of sweet-smelling freesias on her bedside table.
She took a quick shower and climbed into her old jeans and a long-sleeved white T-shirt. When she went down again, Erica was busy in the kitchen listening to rock music on the radio.
‘I can’t believe you still have this old saucepan,’ she said, pointing to the battered, stainless-steel pan which had been given to Cleo and her then husband as a wedding present. She gave something in it a stir on the hob. ‘It’s practically prehistoric.’
‘It’s perfectly fine,’ Cleo said, smiling. ‘It’s seen more family meals than we’ve had years. It’ll last longer than I do, for sure.’
Erica turned, with a wooden spoon in her hand and a look of mock-exasperation on her face. ‘Then I suppose it deserves a comeback dinner. Spaghetti bolognese. I’m sorry I couldn’t think of anything else when I went to the shops.’
‘My favourite,’ Cleo replied. ‘Danny’s too, unless his tastes have suddenly changed and he’s into haute cuisine now.’
Cleo leaned against the doorway, watching her daughter move about the kitchen with an easy energy that made her heart ache in the best possible way. Erica had always been like that as a child – full of life and fun, keen to please and wanting to make sure everyone in the family was happy.
Somewhere along the way, anger and disappointment had dimmed her light, but tonight, at least, it was shining brightly again.
A delicious smell of onion, garlic and tomatoes began to fill the air as Cleo laid the table and poured glasses of red wine for her and her daughter.
When the doorbell rang, she went to open up and found Danny on the doorstep, his dark curls damp with drizzle and his grin, wide and boyish.
‘Mum!’ He dropped his rucksack and pulled her into a hug. ‘You look great! I’ve missed you.’
Before she could answer, he spotted Erica behind her and concern flashed across his face.
‘Hey, big brother!’ Erica said with a smile. ‘It’s all right. Mum and I have had a chat. We’re fine, everything’s fine.’
In an instant, Danny’s shoulders relaxed and he grinned again and lifted his mother right off the ground.
‘Hallelujah!’ he cried. ‘Thank God! It’s about time!’
Erica laughed and Cleo’s eyes pricked again. In an instant, the harsh words and aching silences seemed to have dissolved, to be replaced by something simple and solid: family.
Soon, the three of them were gathered round the small kitchen table, plates steaming and wine glasses half full. Cleo spoke a little about her adventure – but not too much. She was keener to hear what the others had been up to.
Erica talked about her law course and Danny filled them in on his university life, too, half complaining about the workload, half boasting about his band’s first gig.
Cleo listened, smiling, her heart swelling with quiet joy. Every sound – the clink of forks, the laughter, the creak of the old chair she’d meant to fix for years – felt precious.
‘So,’ Danny said, grinning at his sister. ‘Will you be coming home more often now, or are you escaping to the wilderness again?’
Erica rolled her eyes, but smiled. ‘I’ll definitely be round more in the holidays. Someone needs to keep an eye on Mum and make sure she doesn’t get involved in any more earthquakes.’
Cleo laughed. ‘I think it was a one-off. I hope so, anyway, but I won’t say no to your company.’
They chatted late into the evening, as the sky faded to indigo then black, and the warmth inside made the windows fog up slightly. A white cat from next door sat on the fence outside, staring at them, and they decided it was good luck.
When the plates were cleared, Cleo made tea and leaned back in her chair, taking in the sight of her two children, grown and changed but also the same.
The rain fell gently against the windows. It wasn’t the fierce, wild, destructive rain of Crete but a soft, familiar, English rain which seemed to wash the world clean.
Erica caught her mother’s eye and smiled softly. ‘It feels good to be home, Mum.’
‘Good to have you home,’ Cleo replied.