A Shameful Consequence

by Carol Marinelli

  ‘Oh, please,’ Connie retorted, because she knew how big the news had been, that even if he only made occasional visits and duty phone calls to his family, he would have been told. ‘As if your family wouldn’t have gossiped about this—’

  ‘We were not talking for a long time—only in recent weeks have we spoken,’ Nico interrupted. ‘After your wedding …’ Only the slightest pause gave indication that this subject was a painful one. ‘There was a falling out—a large one. Only in the last few weeks have we started speaking again. I have had a difficult year.’

  Not that difficult, Connie wanted to say, because he stood tall and strong and beautiful; he was every bit the man she had left. ‘Too difficult to pick up the phone?’

  And he never shared private matters and he wasn’t particularly comfortable in doing so now, but better that than her to think he had known and not thought to contact her. ‘I found out they were not my parents.’

  Connie stood frozen—not at the news, because she had found out the same already, but that he knew and that Nico would tell her. She was shocked he would share what surely no one else knew, because if that news got out it would make her annulment and pregnancy idle chatter.

  ‘How?’ It was husky, and the word stuck in her throat. Did he know already that her father was involved? Was that, in fact, why he was here?

  ‘I remembered.’ He said it so simply. His voice did not betray the pain and the heartache, the jumble of feelings and dreams that made, almost, a memory. ‘I’m wrong apparently. My parents deny …’ His voice trailed off. He was not here to talk about himself and not used to sharing.

  ‘Tell me,’ Connie offered, because pain had entered the building, and now that he was not looking at her, now that he focussed instead on the television behind her, she could really look at him. Yes, the year had left its mark on him, too. He was a touch thinner perhaps, but that was not it. She tried to fathom what the change was, but couldn’t.

  He shook his head, because he had said more than enough already, and Connie did not push again, scared what her tired brain might reveal in an unguarded moment.

  ‘You’d better go.’

  He had better.

  He could leave what he had in his wallet, and if she threw it at him, then she could pick it up later. He could send her regular cheques each month and it was up to her if she cashed them. He could go, safe in the knowledge that soon she would be strong, but there was a scent in the kitchen that had him linger, the sweet smell of baby. Then he looked over at her and thought how much better he could make things.

  Not forever, he quickly told himself, because there could be no forever, his heart had learnt that long ago.

  But he could expedite things, get her back on her feet sooner, help set her up with somewhere decent to live, but for now she needed to rest and get strong and, he admitted, albeit reluctantly, she simply deserved a little looking after. ‘Come with me,’ Nico said, and this time he meant it. ‘Not to the hotel, but back to my home. I will hardly be there, you can rest, get your strength, I have staff …’

  ‘I’ll be fine.’ She meant it, she absolutely meant it—she just hadn’t quite worked out how.

  ‘Come with me.’ He said it again. ‘I have a property on Xanos—the south.’

  She gave a wry laugh, had this vision of blondes draped over his white loungers, of million-dollar views and champagne cooling, and could not be the ragamuffin guest. ‘I’m not interested,’ Connie said. ‘I’m trying to get away from my family—I hardly want to go back to Xanos.’ It was Connie frowning now. ‘I didn’t know you had property there.’

  ‘No one knows,’ Nico said. ‘It is very private, extremely secluded. There is a stretch of beach that is mine and you can walk undisturbed there. There is a pool and a garden where you can get back some colour …’ He looked at her tired pale cheeks and his mind was made up. ‘I have a housekeeper who cooks with local produce.’

  ‘Your staff will soon talk.’

  ‘My staff were hand-picked.’ He saw her dismiss that. After all, she knew how the island worked, that the people thrived on gossip—it was a factor he had considered on hiring Despina and Paulo. ‘They are an elderly couple,’ Nico explained. ‘Proud people, who lost their only son a couple of years ago—all their savings had gone into his health. They have nothing. The developer bought their home and was charging them the most ridiculous rent. Now they live in a property to the rear of mine and they tend to the house and garden as if it were there own.’ He looked over at Constantine and would not for a moment let her compare him to Henry. ‘I pay them not just their board but a good wage, too—my staff have dignity, and that brings loyalty. I insist on privacy. No one, not even my family, knows that I am there.’

  ‘Why?’ Connie blinked. ‘Why the secrecy?’

  He had no choice but to tell her. If she came she’d find out anyway, for there were papers everywhere and records that he pored over whenever he got a chance. ‘I am from there,’ Nico said. ‘I am sure of that. I want to find out my past …’ And she felt her blood run cold as he continued, ‘So for now, in my free time, I base myself in Xanos.’

  ‘Doing what?’

  ‘Searching,’ Nico said. ‘I want to find out who and where my parents are.’

  ‘And then …’ Connie was having great trouble finding her voice. ‘Once you’ve found them, you’ll …’ She struggled, tried to stop herself from asking too many questions, but she wanted to be sure that was all he wanted, wanted to know that her family would be safe. Nico didn’t wait for her to finish her stumbling sentence. He cut straight in and she saw then what she hadn’t been able to place before, recognised then the change in him and it was anger. ‘I don’t just want to find them. I want to find out who facilitated this, and, when I do—’ how black were his eyes as he continued, how badly they bored into her heart ‘—they will pay.’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THEY would pay.

  Connie was quite sure of it.

  He would ruin her family, of that she had no doubt. The shame she had wreaked on them would be nothing, nothing compared to what Nico would do when he found out the truth.

  All of the truth, for she knew more.

  She had seen the papers, had held them in her hands, and knew there was much more to this than parents giving up their baby.

  ‘Get your things,’ Nico said, and she was about to say no, but maybe she was too tired to process things properly. Perhaps by being there she could prevent him from finding things out because, Connie knew, the outcome could only be devastating. ‘We leave now.’

  ‘I can’t,’ Constantine said. ‘I can’t just leave Henry …’

  ‘He treats you like a slave.’

  ‘He’s an old man,’ Connie said. ‘And slave labour or not, I signed up for the job.’

  ‘Then you leave in the morning.’

  ‘I doubt the agency can get a replacement any time soon.’

  ‘Oh, they will,’ Nico said darkly.

  ‘I can’t …’ She wanted to go; there was a part of her that was tempted to just escape, to go home, to hide at his property and heal, and there was part of her too that needed to be there, to stop the train wreck that would surely happen. But there was another reason that she was scared to go.

  One reason.

  And Nico knew it and he faced it.

  ‘We need to talk,’ Nico said. ‘There are things we need to discuss.’ He looked at her lank hair, her puffy face, could feel the exhaustion that seeped from her, and his harsh voice softened. ‘But not now,’ he said, ‘not yet—not till you are ready.’ He saw hope flare in her dull eyes as he tossed her the lifeline, and he willed her to take it. ‘You have my word. For now all you have to do is deal with the basics.’

  ‘The basics?’

  ‘Be a mother,’ Nico said. ‘And when you’re not being a mother, you rest.’

  How sweet those words were, how tempting, how blissful it sounded. She wanted to close her eyes right now, to just sink into
them, not think of problems, the hows, the whys, the hell that surely would follow.

  She wanted what he offered.

  ‘Rest,’ Nico said. ‘We’ll leave in the morning. For now you should sleep.’ But Connie shook her head.

  ‘I have to do the laundry.’ He watched as she heaved a basket across the kitchen and he saw her jaw tighten as, instead of offering to help, he sat down, and just once as she loaded filthy sheets into the machine did she glance up, but said nothing.

  And still she said nothing as she turned the machine on, and then opened the dryer, pulling more of the same out and folding the old man’s bedding, but he could feel her tension at his lack of assistance as he picked up the remote and flicked the television to the news.

  ‘I don’t do laundry,’ he said.

  ‘Clearly,’ Connie said as she dragged out the ironing board.

  ‘You want to be a martyr …’ He shrugged. ‘Go ahead.’

  And she didn’t want to be a martyr so, for the first time, rather than ironing them, she put away the board and she just folded them instead.

  ‘Rebel,’ Nico said, glancing up, and she felt something she hadn’t in a very long time—a move on the edge of her lips that was almost a smile as she left the wretched laundry and sat on the only seat left in the kitchen, the one on the sofa beside him. It was horribly awkward, staring ahead at the news when she wanted to turn and stare at him, wanted to talk, but scared what might come out if she did.

  ‘Why don’t you go to bed?’ Nico suggested. ‘While he sleeps, shouldn’t you rest?’

  ‘I shall go to bed as soon as you’ve gone.’

  ‘Oh, I’m going nowhere,’ Nico said. ‘I’m not giving you a chance to come up with a million reasons why you can’t leave in the morning. I’m staying right here.’

  ‘What about your hotel room? What about—?’

  But Nico wasn’t going to argue. ‘Go to bed.’

  And she sat there.

  ‘Go on,’ he said, and her face burnt, and she bit back tears. Neither victim nor martyr did she want to be, but dignity was sometimes hard to come by.

  ‘You’re sitting on it.’

  And to his credit he said nothing, did not act appalled, just headed over to the kitchen and prepared the second cup of instant coffee he had ever had in his life, then perched himself on the barstool.

  ‘There is a bedroom.’ She felt the need to explain. ‘It’s just Henry moans if …’ she hesitated a moment ‘ … the baby starts crying. He can’t hear so much if we are down here.’

  And there was the longest pause so he was determined not ask, but more than that, he wanted to know. ‘What’s his name?’

  ‘Leo,’ Connie said, and swallowed, because by tradition he should be Vasos after Nico’s father, and though she had ached to name him Nico, it would have been too much of a constant reminder, so instead she had named him Leo, for it was in August that he had been made.

  ‘Sleep,’ he ordered, and she unravelled a blanket.

  And she tried to sleep.

  Turned her back on him and faced the faded pattern of the sofa, tried not to think about the man in the room and that tomorrow she would leave here with him.

  Tried not to fathom her scary future.

  Because, even with Nico’s offer, the future was scary. Scarier, in fact, than going it alone, because the truth would out—deep down she knew that.

  She was just in no position to run from it.

  CHAPTER NINE

  SURPRISINGLY, she slept.

  Despite his presence, despite her anxiety about the next day, with Nico in the room, a strong, quiet presence, somehow her exhausted mind stilled. Somehow she fell asleep to the whir of the tumble dryer and washing machine and did not think about what the next day would bring.

  Even in the night, when her baby awoke, Constantine hardly did. Nico watched in silence as, surely more asleep than awake, she dragged herself from the sofa at Leo’s first murmur, crossed the dark room and changed her child then went back to the sofa with him. She curled on her side, hardly a word spoken, just a hush to her baby and then the sound of him feeding, and after a while, when the room was silent, he watched her sleepwalk her baby back to his crib. It happened again early in the morning, but this time the feed was interrupted by the incessant demands of the old man.

  ‘I could go up for you?’ Nico offered, the third time she dashed to the stairs.

  ‘And scare the life out of him.’

  He was more tempted than she could know, but he held onto his temper. Nico even sat quietly while Constantine rang the employment agency, watching her fingers rake through her long hair as she explained that today she would be leaving.

  ‘Next week?’ Connie said, and Nico’s jaw tightened and she knew, just knew, he was about to take the phone from her, but she was determined to handle this. ‘I want someone here today.’ But the agency knew Connie was a responsible woman who would not leave the old man alone, and took full advantage of that fact. For, really, they could find someone at their leisure without her walking out. Defeated, she handed him the phone.

  ‘Nico Eliades speaking.’ His voice was one she had heard before, that morning she had rung him from her father’s study.

  For mal.

  Brutal.

  ‘You have one hour to send someone or, failing that, to get here yourself.’ And he said a little more than that, as Connie sat cringing, that he was considering reporting them. First he would check with his lawyers about minimum wage and work hours, and most certainly he would do that at ten a.m., ‘if no one is here’.

  The owner was there within half an hour.

  She told Henry, who must have been used to staff leaving, because he didn’t seem remotely bothered. He knew full well there would be plenty of others who were desperate to take her place.

  Connie packed her things into her suitcase, which bulged a little more now that it had to hold Leo’s things.

  ‘What about the crib?’

  ‘It was already here.’

  ‘Then let’s go.’

  He took the case she had been struggling with and held it as easily as if it were an empty carrier bag and then handed it to a driver who was coming to the door.

  ‘Are we going back to the hotel?’ she asked as she climbed into the car. He had thought of everything, Connie realised, because there was even a baby seat. Or rather he had informed his driver, because Connie really couldn’t imagine him fitting it, and certainly he offered no help as for the first time she wrestled with straps and the buckle and fitted Leo into the seat.

  ‘I don’t know how it goes.’ She was embarrassed after a couple of attempts and he sat in the seat beside her, clearly wanting to get going and unused to this type of delay.

  ‘Don’t look at me,’ Nico said, and drummed his fingers on the car door as he sat impatiently waiting for the click that told them Leo was safely secured.

  It was only as they drove off, as her life changed forever again, that Connie realised not once had he so much as looked at their baby.

  CHAPTER TEN

  ‘IT’S beautiful.’ It was her first glimpse of Xanos in almost a year and, even if she had never seen the south, it looked like home. Certainly it was a relief to almost be there.

  Though luxurious, the journey had been long, especially with a fretful baby and milk that just wasn’t flowing.

  Connie had been tempted to ask if they could stop at a chemist when they hit the mainland so she could buy some provisions in case her milk ran out, but was too embarrassed to have such a discussion with Nico. Instead, she stayed quiet as they transferred to a small seaplane. As Xanos came into view, her tiredness lifted a little at the sight before her, great sweeps of beach that broke up the bright blue ocean and then gave way to lush, green hills. Though it was her island, Connie had never visited this side, let alone from a seaplane. From the air it was completely stunning.

  She knew there had been many grumbles as to the size of the development but she had never
really comprehended just how big it was. Now, as they drew closer, Connie could see the lavish houses with their infinity pools. There was a large hotel that Nico pointed out, called Ravels, and her throat tightened with the thought of living amongst all the finery.

  Her family was considered wealthy by old Xanos standards, but their wealth was nothing, nothing compared to this, and frankly it was all rather intimidating.

  ‘This,’ Nico said as the plane made a perfect landing and glided smoothly to a small jetty, ‘is where sometimes you will get wet. Depending on the tide,’ he explained, but the tide was behaving today. The pilot unloaded both her and Nico’s luggage, Connie’s a rather sad-looking affair beside his smart black cases. There was one tricky moment: the pilot had placed a small ramp for her to walk on and she wanted to turn, to ask for Nico to take her baby while she negotiated it and then for him to pass Leo to her, but even as she turned her head to ask, she changed her mind. Nico made his feelings perfectly clear on that subject with his choice of words.

  ‘Pass him to the pilot. Then he can take your hand and help you.’

  The pilot did help, handed her back Leo, then went ahead with their cases as Connie walked at a rather slower pace along the jetty and then onto the sandy beach, revelling in the feel of the Xanos sun on her skin again, and scents she hadn’t known she’d missed but which turned out to be blissfully familiar. The salty smell of the ocean filled her hungry lungs, and even if it wasn’t to her parents’, she felt a little as if she were coming home, bringing Leo for the first time to a place where he belonged.

  ‘It used to be considered the poor side,’ Connie said. ‘But not now.’ She looked as luxury cars sped along the narrow road. She looked at the hotel and a large balcony where she could just make out diners enjoying the early evening sun. They walked just a little further, little Leo growing heavy in her arms, and as they stepped off the beach she decided she was getting rather too used to Nico’s lavish ways because she was sure a driver would appear to take them the rather long walk to the development. Quite sure, in fact, that the pilot would have their bags already loaded in an undoubtedly luxurious car.