Truth and Lies

by Marguerite Valentine

  Three days later, Kloe called her. She had some information and asked to meet her at the same coffee shop where they’d first met. Nixie arrived early and waited with some trepidation for her to arrive. She was late, in fact so late Nixie was beginning to give up on her, but when Kloe did arrive, she was accompanied by another woman. She flung herself down next to Nixie.

  ‘Sorry we’re late, Nixie. This is Lydia. She’s lived here for five years and works in the Community Cafe down the road. She knows the score and if anyone’s new in the area, she’s the first to know.’

  Lydia smiled at Nixie. She had a broad, friendly smile, long brown wavy hair, deep brown eyes and well defined eyebrows. She held out her hand to Nixie. ‘Hi, Nixie, good to meet you. Kloe tells me you’re looking for someone by the name of Seb. Well, I might be able to help.’

  ‘If you can, that would be great.’

  ‘No worries. Let’s have a look at the photos that you showed Kloe.’ Nixie handed them over. ‘Yeah, I know him. Seb Elliot.’

  ‘Elliot? Are you sure? Not Harvey?’

  ‘Elliot was what he was known as round here. He’s definitely the one I know. He took up with some rich girl called Zanthe, a student at the university. An architecture student. She’s leftist, with anarchistic sympathies. I heard she came from a rich family on Spetses, and they met at a political meeting run by Syriza. She’s good. Fiery, militant, but also very beautiful.’

  Nixie felt sick in the stomach. She looked down at her hands. Kloe noticed. ‘Hey, Nixie, don’t look like that. It may just be a fling.’ Turning to Lydia, she said, ‘Seb was her lover. They fell out, but she’d been hoping they’d get it back together again.’

  Lydia said, ‘Well, you win some and you lose some. Sorry to bring bad news.’

  Nixie shrugged. ‘I’ll get over it. When did you last see him?’

  ‘Maybe four months ago? He was with Zanthe, and I heard on the grapevine she was going to introduce him to her family.’

  Nixie stood up. ‘I really appreciate your help, but I’ve got to go.’

  ‘So soon. Where are you off to?’

  ‘Dunno, think I might walk around a bit. See the sites.’

  ‘You look upset. Why don’t you meet up with us later? Don’t let it get you down. He’s just a man, after all.’

  Nixie hesitated, then smiled. ‘You’re right, but he was special to me. I need to walk, get my head straight. Where shall we meet?’

  ‘What about somewhere different? Like City Zen, they make good coffee. Say, this evening, round about eight?’

  ‘Okay. See you there, and thanks.’

  Nixie walked away. She was devastated. She reminded herself she was in Athens for work and that, despite how she felt, she still had to find Seb. Knowing he’d hooked up with a beautiful young woman, and it was serious, hurt. Maybe his relationship would be temporary and just a holiday romance. Except he wasn’t in Athens on a holiday, he was here because he was on the run. So why was he using his Elliot name, instead of Harvey, as he did back in the UK? None of it made sense.

  She continued walking, oblivious to the traffic noise and her surroundings, her head down, deep in thought. The stuff Bill told her about Seb being the whistleblower; must have been him. He must hate his father and felt let down not only by him but by both his parents, so it made sense he’d been the one who’d released the incriminating documents to the press. He’d have known where to look for them and he had the perfect motive, revenge. Revenge because his parents had been negligent the night he’d been snatched.

  It also made sense what he’d said about Imogen, the girl in the photos. She might have been the adopted daughter of friends of his hated parents, but maybe he identified with her. He felt like him, she didn’t belong, and that made him feel protective. She wondered how much of this Bill knew, but she’d take a bet on it, even if he did, he’d have no interest whatsoever in understanding him or his motives.

  She walked randomly through the city streets, until she came across a travel agency, which brought her to a halt. Lydia had said Zanthe came from Spetses, so wherever Zanthe was, it was likely Seb would be too. That’s where she should go next. Spetses would be her next port of call. She swung in and booked a ferry ticket to Spetses, before returning later to meet Kloe and Lydia at City Zen. She said nothing of her plans to them. The following day, she caught a bus to the port of Piraeus and took the ferry to Spetses.

  — 20 —

  Spetses, a picturesque island, was much favoured by the Athenians because of its closeness to the mainland, had once been the residence of the British author John Fowles. It had also been the setting for his novel The Magus, but apart from this and the startling absence of vehicles, which for the sake of preserving its aesthetic appearance, had been banned, Nixie knew very little about the island.

  After leaving the hydrofoil, she took a look around. The island’s affluence was immediately apparent. Neo-Classical mansions lined the harbour and facing them an impressive array of luxurious super-yachts. Each of them equipped with every technological aid possible, including the presumably essential ocean-going marine radar. By way of contrast, moored close by and bobbing on the water, were the small wooden painted boats of the local fishermen.

  Sitting on a harbour wall, she pulled out the instructions she’d downloaded off the net and after orientating herself, she walked away from the harbour and into the narrow pebbled passageways towards the small apartment she’d rented.

  Part of a larger house, it was owned by two artists. It had been advertised as having wi-fi, views of the bay and as being suitable for an independent traveller, which suited Nixie fine. She’d understood by that she’d be left alone. Simple and rustic, the courtyard was painted white, the windows picked out in an azure blue. Plants tumbled out of urns, cascaded and wound round the walls and windows, generally showing a total disregard for any difference between the inside and the outside. This also applied to the little geckos, one of which, she subsequently discovered, had taken up residence in the shower room.

  The owners had been out when she arrived, but had left the key under a small plant pot by the front door. Conveniently and thoughtfully they’d also left a bottle of the local white wine chilling in the fridge. After unpacking what little she’d brought with her, she opened the bottle, poured herself a large glass, and sat down at the small table and considered her next move.

  Before she’d left Athens, Lydia and Kloe told her they’d further discovered that Zanthe’s father headed up an architectural practice, which was based somewhere near the harbour. This meant it would be comparatively easy to hang around close by and watch the comings and goings and at some point, Nixie reasoned, she might see Zanthe and Seb. It was, after all, a small island and since Zanthe was also an architectural student and presumably in the same line of business as her father, it was highly likely she would drop into his office ─ hopefully accompanied by Seb.

  Just as she thought this, her mobile rang. She sighed, it could only be Bill. She picked it up. ‘You don’t have to ring me every day. I’ve told you, when and if I find him, you’ll be first to know.’

  ‘I’m giving you moral support.’

  ‘Thanks, but I don’t need it.’

  ‘What’s your accommodation like?’

  ‘Great. Love it but look, I’ve just arrived. I’ll be in touch.’

  She put the phone down, picked it up again, and switched it off. She’d walk down to the front by the old harbour.

  The harbour was buzzing. Noisy, lined with outdoor tavernas and restaurants, it was full of tourists and residents. She chose a smaller and quieter taverna, further away from the main area, ordered a coffee and baklava, and glanced again at the address of Zanthe’s father’s practice. Although in English, she had no idea where to start looking, but he had to have a website, which would give directions as to how to get there. She’d wait until she got back to her
accommodation to check that out, but in the meantime explore the area, get a feel for the place and how the streets connected.

  She looked up. An older man was sitting fairly close by. He was tanned, dressed in chinos and a navy tee shirt. He seemed to be staring at her. She was immediately wary and looked away to avoid his gaze, and as soon as she’d finished her coffee and baklava, she stood up, paid, and left. Glancing frequently over her shoulder, to make sure she wasn’t being followed, she walked randomly into the small town and spent the next hour looking at the highly expensive gold and silver jewellery displayed in the brightly lit shops.

  While she’d been out, the owners had left a note, saying they’d drop by tomorrow late afternoon to check everything was okay, but not to stay in especially for them. This gave her enough time to check out Zanthe’s father’s address beforehand, but if she couldn’t find it, she’d ring them on the number they’d given her. Meanwhile she’d start some preliminary research. She tapped in his name on her mobile and immediately a website address in English appeared. Nikos Mataxas advertised himself as specialising in the design of non-commercial properties and the renovation of the old. Suitably arty black-and-white photographs illustrated some of the projects he and his associates had completed, but there was also a map of how to find his office.

  So far, so good. Nixie felt a rush of excitement. She had to find out there and then where his office was situated. Again she left her apartment and, following the map she’d downloaded, she eventually found it. It was situated in one of the narrow, cobbled streets off the old harbour, with a convenient outdoor coffee shop close by, which she’d use as a base to watch the comings and goings.

  It wasn’t going well. Five days later, despite hanging around in the coffee shop in the vicinity of his architectural practice and observing the numerous visitors to his office, there had been no sign of Seb, or of anyone who might have been Zanthe, and she was bored. She was also sick of drinking coffee. She rang Bill for advice.

  ‘I can’t believe I’m hearing this. You know the score. Be pro-active, use your imagination, take some risks.’

  ‘Any ideas?’

  ‘Nope, that’s your call but time’s running out. I’ll ring you later, but get on with it. You’re not on holiday.’

  This last comment annoyed her. But the following day, swallowing her irritation and in a mood of defiance, she walked into Zanthe’s father’s office. There was no sign of a receptionist. A pile of brochures had been left out on the desk and after waiting five minutes for someone to appear, she took the liberty of helping herself to one of them to take back to her accommodation. There she’d go through it carefully.

  One project, in particular, stood out. Stunningly beautiful, it showed a newly built, long, white building, combined with what was described as the ‘vernacular’ of the old. It stood on one of the Spetsion headlands; and had uninterrupted views over the Saronic sea. It was so different from anything she’d ever seen before, she was fascinated. She looked at it again and again, wondering whether it was Zanthe’s father who had overseen this particular renovation. It was atmospheric, a triumph of the best of modernist sculpture. The stark black-and-white photography, focused on the interplay between the shadows of the building and the brilliant white light of its walls. She had to see it, and gradually it came to her how she could use her curiosity with this house to locate Seb. She formulated a plan. It was simple and straightforward, and she’d execute it the following day.

  It was midday, and searingly hot as always, and she’d just finished her usual coffee at the usual taverna. She paid her bill, walked across the square, and entered the cool, air-conditioned offices of Nikos Mataxas. This time there was a receptionist. She was sitting behind her desk, staring at her computer screen. She looked up and, in English, she said, ‘Can I help you?’

  ‘Good morning. Yes, I was wondering if you could help me. My parents have been visitors to this island for some years and they’re about to retire. They’ve always wanted to buy an old property, and do it up. So they’ve asked me if I could check out some properties. I’m a kind of advance guard.’

  ‘What kind of property are they interested in?’

  ‘Something in a village, or even along the coast… they’re open to ideas.’

  ‘Do you know what kind of budget they have?’

  Nixie shrugged. ‘Sorry, they haven’t said. It all depends on the property. If they fell in love with it, then they’d find whatever was necessary… Sorry to be so vague.’

  ‘Are they here now?’

  ‘No. They had some business to finish in the UK. That’s why I’m here. I offered to help. I’m not sure where to start, to tell you the truth. I did look at your website…’ Her voice trailed away and she smiled expectantly at the receptionist.

  The receptionist paused, as if she wasn’t quite sure how to respond, then she said, ‘Just a minute. Nikos is in, I’ll ask if he’ll see you.’

  She stood up and disappeared. While she was gone, Nixie idly looked at the photographs of Greek island architecture displayed against the white-washed rough wall. They were dramatic in the simplicity of their design, but apart from these, mounted on a small table at waist height, was the tiny replica of a building. It showed the intended finished project of work in progress. Nixie bent over it, fascinated, and for the moment was lost in admiration at the architectural detail.

  ‘Nikos suggested they take a look at this.’ Nixie turned round. The receptionist was standing right by her and handed her a copy of the brochure she had picked up earlier. ‘This might give them a better idea of what they want. Then if they’re still interested, they can get back in touch and I can make an appointment for them to see him.’ She smiled. ‘As you’ll see, there’s a range of styles.’

  ‘Thank you very much.’

  She stood waiting as Nixie began flicking over the pages. She came to a stop. It was the villa she’d noticed before, the one set on the headland, with views over the sea. ‘Oh, a friend of mine told me about this place. It’s so beautiful. Any chance of seeing it? My parents would love it. Would that be possible?’

  The receptionist peered over her shoulder. ‘Yes, it is beautiful. It’s Nikos’s present to his daughter.’

  ‘A present…?’ She looked at the receptionist with amazement. ‘Wow, lucky for some.’

  ‘He’s been working off and on it for years now, ever since she was tiny. It’s a hobby of his. It was almost derelict when he took it on, but he wanted to pass on something to her, something of his work, and of his passion for renovating and preserving the Spetsion design. When it’s finished, he’ll enter it in the inter-island architectural competition.’

  ‘It’s almost finished then.’

  ‘Just about. What I love is the central courtyard. He’s had pebble mosaics laid down. The style goes back centuries, but we still have a few people on the island that can do this. Their designs are all different. Zanthe insisted that one was of Bouboulina. She’s a big fan.’

  ‘Zanthe. Is that his daughter?’

  ‘Yes, his daughter. She takes after her father. She’s going to be an architect.’

  ‘So I’m guessing Boulboulina is a woman?’

  ‘Yes, she lived on the island in the nineteenth century. She’s our heroine. She inspired the men to fight against the Ottomans. You can visit the museum about her. It’s fascinating.’ She laughed. ‘Zanthe should have been named after her.’

  ‘She sounds like a feminist.’

  ‘She is, she says, I’m keeping her spirit alive in my own way. She’s political. She’s involved in the anti-austerity movements, you know after the crash. It hit us really hard.’

  ‘Tell me about it. We have our own protests, especially in the City of London, but you Greeks are more political and militant than the average Brit. But good for Zanthe, I say.’

  ‘It’s true, probably because of our history of invasio
n, but funny you mention Brits because she’s met one. He’s just like her.’

  ‘And he’s a Brit?’

  ‘Yes, they come to the office now and again to see her father. He’s as militant as she is. They met on a demo in Athens. They seem very much in love.’

  Nixie was silent. She didn’t want to know anymore. She felt close to tears. She pulled herself together. ‘Well, thank you for all your help. I must go. I’ll pass on this information to my parents and I’m sure we’ll be back in touch… By the way, your English is very good. You must have lived in the UK for a while.’

  ‘Thank you. I did, I lived in London for years. I was in love with someone, but it didn’t work out.’

  ‘English?’

  ‘Yes, he came from Wanstead.’

  ‘I’m sorry about that…but you do have a really good accent.’

  ‘Thanks, I’m over it now.’

  By the way, where did you say the house was? You know, the one Nikos has given his daughter. I might take a look at some point.’

  ‘I can ask Nikos if he’d show your parents round, that is, if they’re serious about their plans.’

  ‘That’s a kind offer. We’ll certainly bear it in mind, but it’s too soon to say. I was thinking that maybe I could have a look around the area before I speak to them about it.’

  ‘Well, go to the harbour and get one of the water taxis. Ask for the Zogeria beach. It’s the other side of the island. It has no tavernas, so take some water. When you get there, you’ll see a path through the pine trees and that takes you very near the villa. You can’t miss it.’

  ‘Thanks again. You’ve been so much help.’

  ‘My pleasure. What’s your name ─ for my records.’

  ‘Ehr. It’s Elly. Elly Sanders.’

  ‘Well, maybe see you again, Elly.’