A Shameful Consequence

by Carol Marinelli

  Except there was no car, just an empty stretch of street, the pilot walking out through a stone arch on the other side of the road and nodding to Nico.

  ‘All inside for you, sir.’

  Nico thanked him and, to her surprise Nico led her through the stone archway and into a garden that was a real one. The noise of low water fountains greeted her, as did a full, glittering stone pool and there was nothing intimidating about it. It was nothing like she had imagined Nico owning, for this was no glittering modern property. Instead, it was a glorious old whitewashed home with an elderly couple waiting at the doorway to greet them. The only sign that it was Nico’s home was a low sports car parked to the side of the house, and as Nico saw her look at it he offered her the use of it any time he was at work.

  Connie was quite sure she wouldn’t drive it!

  ‘Despina.’ Nico introduced an elderly lady who, unlike Connie’s mother, was dressed in black for real reasons. She practically fell on Leo, asking if it was okay for her to have a hold. It was a relief to hand him over, to let Despina take him, as her husband, Paulo, shook Nico’s hand and then pointed out the changes that he had made to the garden in the week or two that Nico had been away. It wasn’t just the weight of the baby in her arms that lifted, but a vast weight from her shoulders as she was ushered inside by Despina, leaving Paulo to work in the garden. It was how it should have been for Leo with her parents, Connie thought. This the welcome home that he deserved.

  ‘Go and wash and change,’ Despina said, ‘and then I have ready your dinner.’ She showed her to a room that was simple. Despina was still holding Leo as Connie looked around. There was a wooden bed, with crisp Greek linen and lace, and shutters on the window, and, amazingly, there was already a cot put up. Even if it was being silly, Connie felt a little uncomfortable, wondering if it was Despina’s dead son’s crib. There were many superstitions on the island that she’d grown up with, but Despina soon put her at ease. ‘My niece just moved—they are away for a year with her husband and children. She is happy for you to use her things.’

  ‘That’s so kind of you.’ Connie was touched at the thought that had gone into all this, and then, just as she was about to go, Leo started crying and Connie had to feed him. ‘It’s every two hours …’ She closed her eyes in exhaustion. ‘I don’t think he’s getting enough.’

  How nice it was that Despina was patient, that she sat with Connie as she attempted to feed, but Leo kept crying and Connie was getting more agitated. ‘I think it might be the travel and everything,’ Connie admitted. It was such bliss to have someone wise to talk to, to confide in, another woman who had been there before and done it.

  ‘I bought some formula and bottles when Nico said you were bringing a baby. It’s all there in the kitchen.’

  ‘I still want to feed him.’

  ‘Maybe now you can rest, things will get better, but if he is waking so much at night …’ She gave a shrug. ‘It’s there just in case. For now have your shower.’ Despina said. ‘I will watch him.’

  It was bliss to have a shower and for the first time not have to listen out for Leo, knowing he was safe in Despina’s arms. She washed her hair, too, felt the last of London slide down the plughole, and then she combed it through and washed out the clothes she had been wearing for tomorrow. Then she went to her bedroom where Despina had placed a now sleeping Leo in his cot and Connie opened her case—the decision what to wear was not a difficult one. Certainly she wished she had more choice, but she settled for leggings and a long swing top that had seen her through most of her pregnancy and the weeks after the birth.

  She wasn’t particularly nervous to go for dinner, Despina had made her so welcome, but as Connie stepped into the living area, she saw the small kitchen was empty. The table was laid and Nico was sitting on the lounge, talking on the phone, and she realised they were alone.

  ‘Where’s Despina?’ she asked when the phone had clicked off.

  ‘Home,’ Nico said. ‘There is a smaller house to the rear of the property. I think I mentioned it before. Despina takes care of the cleaning and meals if I require them. Paulo keeps an eye on the garden.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘It’s all a bit basic …’ His hand swept around the simply furnished home. ‘Though not for much longer. There are some designs in progress. I am trying to purchase the land to the side of the property, once that is in place the rebuild will start.’

  ‘It’s lovely as it is,’ Connie said, because absolutely it was, certainly better than the palatial penthouse she had been nervously anticipating, but Nico just shrugged, clearly less than impressed with the place.

  ‘I have asked Despina to come over more while you are here, to help with the baby …’

  ‘I don’t need help with Leo.’ Her response was immediate, because as gorgeous as it had been to have ten minutes to herself, she did not need help taking care of her son.

  ‘She can make your bed, then.’ He dismissed her protests. ‘Prepare your meals.’

  ‘I can cook!’ Connie said, ‘I’m not an invalid, I don’t need someone cooking and cleaning for me. In fact …’ she had an idea that would perhaps make her feel less beholden to him ‘ … why don’t I take care of the house while I’m here?’

  ‘To save me the money I pay Despina?’

  His voice dripped sarcasm, and also Connie realised quickly just how stupid that idea was. She hardly wanted to do the woman out of a job. ‘I mean, to give her a break, perhaps …’

  ‘Fine,’ Nico said. ‘I’ll cancel her.’ He shrugged. ‘There is a small boat that leaves at eight each morning, it takes you to the market. Might be a bit tricky with Leo and all those bags, I saw the trouble you had at the jetty.’ She thought for a moment as she stood there, blushing at her own stupidity. Despina wasn’t just nice, she was a necessity, but Nico hadn’t finished teasing her yet. ‘But if you can’t manage the boat, perhaps you can eat at the taverna,’ he suggested, his tongue firmly in cheek. ‘It would be a bit too far to walk to Ravels with Leo.’

  ‘I doubt they welcome babies.’ She could be as sarcastic as Nico when she chose to be.

  ‘So,’ Nico said, ‘Despina stays. And you will not offend my housekeeper dragging a mop around yourself or folding sheets. You are to rest, to relax, recover from the birth and then …’ Black eyes met hers but thankfully he did not complete what he was saying, stuck to his promise that for now any difficult topics were on hold, but it was all there in his eyes, and it was there, too, in the knot deep in her stomach. She was terrified of his reaction, not just to fatherhood but when he found out what her father had done. ‘For now,’ Nico said, ‘we eat.’

  It was the dinner she had dreamed of.

  Every night as she’d made Henry’s stew and mashed potato and then sat down much later to the same meal for herself, she had wished for this.

  Slivers of lamb tossed in tzatziki, and a salad of thick slices of tomato drizzled in Xanos’s olive oil, and surely there were no better olives? Connie closed her eyes as she bit into one, could taste the lemon and garlic they had been marinated in. It was a simple dinner, but completely the tastes she had grown up on and Nico watched as she relished each bite.

  ‘What?’ She blushed as she caught him watching her.

  ‘It’s good to see you enjoying it.’ He poured himself a glass of wine, but when he offered, Connie shook her head.

  ‘No, thanks.’ She took a drink of water and relished it. ‘The water is so much fresher and softer here. I am enjoying my dinner,’ she admitted, and then she admitted a little more. ‘It’s not what I thought it would be. I mean, even as we flew in, I assumed we’d be going to the newer homes, or perhaps to the hotel.’

  A year ago, they would have been.

  Even a few months ago, that would have been the case.

  But after employing the elderly couple to sort out the chaos of the neglected old house, on each trip back to Xanos, when he needed to go through papers, to make calls and go through records, thou
gh initially he had stayed at Ravels, each time he had visited he had stopped by at the house. He stayed for dinner when Despina suggested it, then dinner had stretched to staying a night now and then, and now it had been weeks since he had graced Ravels.

  ‘It is more private here,’ Nico said, but did not offer more. Did not tell her the unexpected pleasure in choosing wine for this dinner tonight, rather than ringing down. The pleasure of books still placed where he had left them, and a lounge by the French windows that looked out to a view that was now familiar in its detail.

  ‘Here I get to think,’ Nico admitted, ‘and there is a lot to think about.’ He was hesitant, not used to wanting to speak about things, and he had shared this with no one. But somehow here with her and away from it all, Nico did relent and told her about his searching. ‘I don’t know where to look next.’ He stabbed his fork into his dinner. ‘How can I look for a birth record, when I don’t even know my name?’

  ‘You can’t,’ she said slowly, trying to hide the fear as to her family’s part in this, trying to pretend that she didn’t already know.

  ‘After the wedding I walked around,’ Nico said. ‘I knew the streets … but I could not know them …’ The bewildered frown on his face was completely out of place because even his forehead seemed to struggle to create the lines. Nico Eliades was a man who always knew the answers, always had things worked out. This, though, he still had not. ‘Of course I can get nothing out of my parents. I have stopped asking for now. I figure if we are at least talking, maybe one day they will tell me.’

  For the first time she saw it from his side. She’d seen it from her family’s, had seen it from her own view-point—his wrath aimed at her when he found out the truth. But now she sat and saw it from his—the agony of knowing, and not having it confirmed.

  ‘Nico …’ She opened her mouth, but she did not know to broach it, how to say it.

  ‘Leave it,’ he said, because he was tired from it all. ‘I’m going for a walk.’

  He did. He walked the beach and back, and then he did it again, did not want to go to a bed that was empty and to the dream of what was waiting for him. He thought of her there in the house, and didn’t like the comfort it brought, for he knew it could not last for long. He could hear the baby crying as he returned much later, saw her standing in the kitchen in a skimpy nightdress, waiting for a bottle to warm.

  She turned and said nothing, guilt in her soul and trouble in her heart, because she could see the wretchedness inside him.

  ‘I thought you …’ He stopped then, because it should not merit conversation, it was no business of his how she fed her babe. ‘Goodnight, then.’

  She felt quite sure she was being dismissed. She headed to the bedroom and held tight to her baby, guilty tears coming as finally she put the teat of the bottle in Leo’s mouth and he suckled eagerly. His dark eyes looking so lovingly up at her, not realising her guilt, unwitting of her failures.

  Nico, she knew, would not be so easily fooled.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  AT FIRST her days had been spent dozing on the sofa—her energy seemed to have depleted along with her milk supply, and though Leo was far more content on the bottle, though there was far less for her to do, everything now seemed to exhaust her. Sometimes Connie would jump up, assuming Henry was summoning her, but gradually she learnt she didn’t have to sleep with one ear open and with Nico working all day, slowly, slowly the fog started to lift. Connie took walks in the garden, or sat at the table doing a jigsaw Despina had found when clearing the house. Despina had given her other things, too. Late one afternoon when she’d been there a week or so, she handed Connie two bags. ‘They are my niece’s. I asked for you.’

  Embarrassed, Connie was about to refuse, but she was touched and grateful, too, because it was awful facing Nico in the same round of baggy clothes. He’d suggested she go shopping, had told her he’d opened her an account for her in a couple of the boutiques, but the thought of walking into a place like that, let alone Nico paying for it, had been more than enough reason to decline.

  ‘Thank you.’ As graciously as she could, she accepted the kind offer. Despina left the room and, after a moment, Constantine opened the bags, and realised that Despina’s niece had style and a little daring, too.

  There were shorts, skirts and tops that there was surely not a hope of getting into, but she did. Even if the tops were a little tight, there were cool billowing shirts that worked well with them. There was a vivid red bikini too, which she instantly stuffed back in the bag, but it felt wonderful to pull on different clothes, so wonderful that she took a long shower and shaved her legs, pulling on shorts for the first time since she’d left Xanos. A jade halter-neck top was a welcome splash of colour—and she told herself she was not dressing for him, but still, as she glanced at the clock, she couldn’t help but smile at the time. The evenings were the best part of her day. Leo’s nightime bath was a far more relaxed affair now and then she would dress him for bed and enjoy giving him his last drink. She settled him in his cot where he would roll straight on his side and start to suck his thumb, then she would wander in the garden for a while, taking in the fragrance of wild garlic that came in from the hill behind, watching the sun slide down, and thinking how lucky she felt to be there, how grateful she was for the reprieve.

  But best of all in the evenings was the sound of the seaplane.

  Because it brought him home.

  She loved watching it touch down and then Nico step out. Sometimes the tide was in and the jetty submerged, but the plane would take him as close as possible and he would roll up his trousers and walk barefoot. She would have to keep looking away, to pretend not to be waiting, not to be watching, when he came in.

  ‘How was your day?’ she asked this evening.

  ‘Impossible,’ Nico told her, and then pulled out the phone and gave Charlotte the next day’s orders. He’d spent the day in several town halls on the mainland, poring through records, and then, to cap things off, the extremely generous offer he had put in on the stretch of land beside his house had again been refused by the developer.

  ‘I’ll start dinner,’ she offered.

  ‘I’ll get myself something later,’ Nico said, because Despina always left him a feast of meals, but she ignored him and as she brushed past him Nico caught her fragrance. He saw how far she had come in these last days, and he wanted her on the couch weary and half-asleep, as she had been in London, because this version of Constantine was a one he was struggling to ignore. He went to place his laptop on the table, but the space was taken up by the outline of a huge jigsaw.

  ‘Despina found it,’ Connie apologised, ‘though it doesn’t have a picture to work from. It’s handmade …’

  He did not want to talk about jigsaws; he did not want to be standing here, wondering how Leo’s day had been; he did not want to want the scent of home. He did not want her laying two plates on the bench. He selected a bottle of wine and opened it to breathe as she brought over the meal—a simple meal, of crisp salad with local olives and flakes of feta cheese warmed a little by slices of lamb tossed in oregano. There was a pita bread she had grilled, and though he did not want this, somehow they moved from the bench to the table. He sat there, doing the impossible jigsaw with one hand, idly eating from a fork with the other and it felt, for Nico, far too good to last.

  ‘What time are the fireworks tonight?’ She looked up from the jigsaw and he saw how much more readily she smiled these days.

  ‘Fireworks?’ Nico frowned.

  ‘Well, it’s morning in Australia,’ she pointed out, because just as night fell here, Nico would head out to the garden with his phone. Just as Australia’s working morning struck, so, too, did Nico, placing angry calls to the developer, furious at the lack of response to his questions and offers, clearly not used to being ignored or not getting his way. ‘I want the jetty to be mine,’ Nico said. ‘It belongs to the next block of land. But I’ll just have to go on wanting. He’s knocked back my o
ffer. I refuse to call again.’

  ‘Till next time.’ Connie grinned, and then it faded. ‘I’ve got a difficult phone call to make, too. Not tonight,’ she added, as they naturally moved from the table to the lounge. How much more comfortable she felt to sit beside him now. She looked out at the sea and thought for a quiet moment before speaking. ‘But I have been putting it off.’

  ‘To your parents?’ Nico asked, but Connie shook her head.

  Until she had sorted things with Nico, she could not stand to talk with them. She was injured, too, on behalf of Leo, the grandson they had made no effort to contact. ‘I want to know how Stavros is.’

  ‘Why?’ Nico asked.

  ‘Because,’ Connie answered, ‘I worry about him—I want to know how things are going …’

  ‘After the way he treated you?’ Nico shook his head. ‘Why would you care for someone who hurt you?’

  ‘It wasn’t all his fault.’

  ‘His part in it was, though,’ Nico pointed out. ‘He chose not to tell you the truth, he chose to deceive you.’ He made a slicing gesture to his throat. ‘Gone!’

  ‘Just like that?’ Connie challenged, and she wasn’t defending Stavros, more she was defending herself. ‘Sometimes things are more complicated—’

  ‘Not really,’ Nico interrupted. ‘He lied to you, and in my book that means you don’t have to worry about him any more.’ He flicked his hand and said it again. ‘Gone.’

  She didn’t like this conversation, didn’t like learning the rules of relationships according to Nico, painfully aware that very soon it might be she who was gone, dismissed with a flick of his hand, for not telling what she knew.

  ‘Anyway, let’s not talk about it now,’ Nico said, because tonight he could not accept just wanting. ‘Let’s just enjoy tonight.’ And it wasn’t what he said, more the way he said it that brought something back, that had her remember there was so much more to this man. He turned to face her on the sofa and smiled a smile she had seen before. With just one look he could melt her worries, with the merest lilt to his voice it was only them in the world. He leant over to pour her some wine, but she put her hand over the glass.