by Anne Fraser
He laughed down at her, his teeth white in the dark. ‘You should be picky,’ he said. He tangled his hands in her hair and, with his thumbs under her cheek bones, raised her face to his. ‘You are so beautiful. So perfect.’
No, she thought wildly. Don’t think that! He mustn’t think she was perfect. He’d only be disappointed.
He lowered his head and brought his mouth down on hers and then she couldn’t think any more. This was what she’d been imagining almost from the moment she’d first set eyes on him and it was everything she’d dreamed it would be. As his kisses deepened she clung to him, almost dizzy with desire.
When he moved away she gave a little gasp of disappointment. But he lifted her in his arms and carried her over to a soft patch of grass where he laid her down.
‘Are you sure?’ he asked as she gazed up at him.
‘Sure?’ She almost laughed. She pulled him down to her. ‘What took you so long?’ she murmured against his lips.
* * *
Later, they lay wrapped in each other’s arms, gazing up at the stars. She’d never felt so peaceful, so thoroughly made love to. He’d been demanding, gentle and teasing and had touched her in ways she couldn’t remember being touched before, until she’d cried out with her need to have him inside her. She blushed as she remembered how she’d dug her fingertips into his back, how she’d called out to him as wave upon wave of pleasure had rocked her body.
But she didn’t really care. This wanton, this woman he’d unleashed, was a revelation to her and she never wanted to go back to the one she’d been before. She smiled to herself. This was what sex should be like.
The moonlight shone on his naked body. It was every bit as she’d imagined—better than any of the Greek statues she’d seen. No wonder she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about how he would feel under her hands. A smile curved her lips and she laughed with sheer joy.
He propped himself on his elbow and gazed down at her. Instinctively she reached for her blouse to cover her nakedness, but as she moved her hand he caught it in his fingers. ‘Don’t,’ he murmured. ‘I don’t think I could ever get enough of just looking at you.’
The new wanton Katherine revelled in the desire she saw in his eyes.
She reached up to him and wrapped her arms around his neck.
* * *
As the horizon turned pink and apricot they lay in each other’s arms, looking up at the star-sprinkled sky, their hands entwined. ‘There’s something I need to tell you,’ he said softly.
Oh, God, here it was. This was wonderful but...
‘Remember I told you that I was training to be a surgeon when Sophia died,’ he continued.
‘Yes.’
‘And I said I was working all the time?’
She wasn’t sure where this was going. ‘I know how competitive the speciality can be.’
‘When Sophia fell pregnant with Crystal I was so happy. And so was she. If at times I caught her looking wistful I just put it down to her being homesick for Greece. It suited me to believe that’s all it was. Looking back, I think she knew it was the end of her dream to become a concert pianist.
‘I was determined to make it in surgery, but you know how it is—the competition is fierce, especially for the top positions, and only the best job in the most prestigious hospital would do me. I had it all planned out. I would qualify for a consultant post then I would apply to the Mayo Clinic in America and do some further training there. I’d already sat my board exams when I was a resident in my final year at med school so getting a post wouldn’t be an issue as long as I stayed focussed.
‘Sophia backed me all the way. She said she could play her music anywhere. I knew that wasn’t necessarily true—not if she wanted to play professionally—but I chose not to listen to that particular voice. I was a selfish bastard back then—completely focussed on what I wanted to achieve. I told myself I was doing it for all of us, for me, for Sophia—and for the baby on the way.
‘What I chose to forget was that she’d already put her career on hold for me. A musician’s career is, if anything, more competitive than medicine—they have such a short time to “make it” and she’d already jeopardised her chances by coming with me to the UK. But, as I said, I planned to make it up to her. One day when I’d got to where I needed to go, I would slow down, let my career take a back seat and let her enjoy the limelight for a while.
‘We both wanted a family and I told myself that by the time I had reached the top, the children would be of an age to allow her time for herself. There was always going to be more than one child. We both wanted at least three. Call me clever, huh? If I’d done the math I would have realised that if everything went to plan she would have been thirty three by the time the youngest was born. I thought it was simple. We’d have children. Sophia would stay at home until the youngest was six weeks or so and then we’d employ a nanny. And Sophia went along with it. Until Crystal was born. Then she could no more see herself putting any child of hers into a nursery than she could have left them home alone. She loved being a mother. If she found it boring she never said so and I never asked.
‘She always made friends easily and the house was always filled—at least so I heard as I was rarely home long enough to see for myself. It was as if she’d gathered around her friends to be the family she’d left behind in Greece. I told myself she was happy. But when I thought about it later, I couldn’t remember the last time she’d played the piano. At the time I told myself that that was good—that she wasn’t really driven enough to make it as a concert pianist. Why is everything so much more obvious in hindsight?’
Katherine rolled over so she could see his face. ‘We all see things differently later, don’t we?’ she murmured, although every word he’d said about Sophia cut her like a blade.
‘I never stopped loving her. She was my best friend, my lover, the mother of my child, but I stopped seeing her—really seeing her.’
The sadness in his eyes twisted her heart.
‘She deserved more than I gave her. Perhaps I didn’t love her enough. If I had I wouldn’t have put my needs so far above hers.’
‘She was lucky to be loved the way you loved her. She would have known she was deeply loved,’ Katherine whispered.
‘I’m glad you told me about her.’ And she was. She wanted to know everything about him. Even if hearing about how much he’d loved Sophia hurt.
‘I had to. You have to know why I’m not sure I can ever promise more than what we have here tonight. I care too much about you not to tell you the truth about myself. And there’s more...’
She stopped his words with her fingertips. The here and now was all they had. After what he’d told her, how could she ever tell him about Poppy? And not telling him meant they could never have more than what they had now. ‘Let’s not think about the past,’ she said. ‘Let’s only think about now.’ She moved her hand from his lips and taking his head between her palms lowered herself on top of him.
* * *
When they returned to the village she led him by the hand up the path and into her home. Her heart was beating so fast she couldn’t speak.
He kicked the door closed behind him. ‘Agapi-mou,’ he breathed into her neck. ‘I want you. I need you.’
She stepped into his arms feeling as if, at last, she’d come home—even if only for a while.
* * *
They spent every day of the next week with each other, until Alexander’s leave was over. Crystal came to the house often. If Katherine was working, the child would take the colouring book she’d brought with her and lay it on the table next to Katherine’s papers, and quietly, her tongue caught in the corner of her mouth, use her crayons to colour in, stopping periodically to admire her work or to study Katherine from the corner of her eye, waiting patiently until Katherine stopped what she was doing
to admire her efforts. Increasingly, Katherine would find herself, at Yia-Yia’s invitation, at the family home, pitching in to make olive tapenade or some other Greek dish. Then, instead of sitting and looking out at the beach, they’d retire to the bench at the front of the house and sit in silence, enjoying the heat of the sun and letting the ebb and flow of village life happen around them. Katherine’s rusty Greek was improving by leaps and bounds and she and Alexander’s grandmother were able to communicate reasonably well.
She’d also become confident enough with her Greek to stop to chat with the other villagers when she was passing through the square. Soon small gifts of ripe tomatoes and zucchini, enormous squashes and bunches of fat grapes still on the vine appeared on her doorstep, and before long she had more plump olives than she could hope ever to eat and more bottles of home-made olive oil than she knew what to do with.
She often thought of her mother. It was as if she’d planned this, knowing that Greece would weave its magic around her and that Katherine would discover what she had missed out on in life. It was, Katherine realised, her mother’s final gift to her and one she wanted to savour. As it had done during the epidemic, her thesis lay largely ignored—dotting the ‘i’s and crossing the ‘t’s didn’t seem as important as they once had—although Katherine knew she would never submit it until it was as perfect as she could make it. Greece hadn’t turned her into a complete sloth.
But she was less than perfect here. She no longer blow-dried her hair every morning before twirling it into a tight bun. Instead she wore it lose around her shoulders or twisted carelessly into a ponytail, no longer caring if it frizzed a little around the edges. She felt freer without the tights, the buttoned-to-the-neck shirts, tailored trousers and sensible shoes she’d worn when she’d first arrived. Now it was bare-shouldered sundresses, skimpy shorts and strappy T-shirts. She’d even repainted her nails in the same blood red as Crystal had—leaving Crystal’s handiwork would have been a step too far! With Alexander back at work, she saw little of him during the day, but most evenings they drank cold beer and nibbled olives and fresh figs, spoke about work and history while Crystal played in the square. He made her laugh with his amusing stories of the villagers and his patients and although her skin still fizzed every time he looked at her, she was able to relax in his company in a way that she hadn’t done with anyone, apart from Sally, in years.
It was, Katherine thought, the happiest time of her life. For once, nothing was asked of her, nothing demanded, no one expected anything of her. Sometimes Crystal came with them and sometimes they went on their own. He took her to Cape Souinon and she could see straight away why he loved it. The ruins of the temple of Poseidon looked out towards the sea and she could easily imagine Lord Byron sitting with his back against one of the pillars, writing poetry.
Often they spent the day on the beach with Crystal, swimming, picnicking and sharing intimate smiles. In the evenings he would call at her house and together they would climb the path to the village square, releasing their hands by unspoken consent moments before they reached it. But it was the nights she longed for most. When his daughter was asleep he’d come to her house and they’d make love, either in her bed or down in the little bay. He’d wake up early and leave her to return to his home so that he’d always be there when Crystal woke up. And every day she fell just a little more in love with him.
She didn’t know how she was ever going to say goodbye.
* * *
Alexander was whistling as he showered. In a short while he’d be seeing Katherine. It had been a long time, he reflected, since he’d felt this good. Not since Sophia had died.
And it was all down to Katherine. He grinned remembering the night before. How could he ever have thought she was reserved—when it came to making love she was anything but.
Unfortunately his lunchtime date with Katherine was going to be curtailed. He had a patient who needed a home visit. Perhaps Katherine would come with him? He didn’t want to waste any of the little time they had left.
But why should she leave?
He stepped out of the shower.
She could come to live with him in Greece. He was certain she would find another job here easily. Or he could find one in England. He quickly dismissed the thought. He couldn’t uproot Crystal again. At least not until she was older. Katherine would understand. She knew how important it was for Crystal to be brought up around family.
But would she stay? They would get married of course. The thought brought him up short. Marriage! He almost laughed out loud. He’d been so certain he’d never marry again, but that was before he’d met Katherine. Now he couldn’t imagine the rest of his life without her.
Although she hadn’t said, he was certain Katherine was in love with him. But enough to marry him? Give up her life in the UK?
There was only one way to find out. ‘What do you think, Sophia?’ he murmured. ‘Do I deserve another chance at happiness?’
CHAPTER EIGHT
KATHERINE WAS PORING over her computer, trying and failing to concentrate on finishing her paper, when there was a knock on the door. No one in the village ever knocked and certainly not Crystal, and although she was expecting Alexander any minute, he always marched in, announcing himself by calling out her name. She quickly saved the file she was working on and went to answer.
When she saw who it was her heart almost stopped beating.
‘Poppy?’
Her daughter pushed by her and dropped her rucksack on the floor. ‘I’m surprised you know who I am.’
Admittedly, for a brief moment Katherine hadn’t. Her daughter had changed so much since the last photo she had seen of her. Gone was her long, golden hair. Gone was the awkward yet beautiful, fresh-faced teenager. In her place was an angry-looking young woman with black spiky hair, kohl-ringed panda eyes and a lip-piercing.
‘Of course I know who you are,’ Katherine whispered. She’d dreamed of this moment for so long but in her imagination it had taken the form of getting-to-know-you phone calls followed by lunches and shopping trips. In her head, Poppy had been like her as a teenager; demure, well spoken and beautifully mannered. Nothing in her dreams had prepared her for this. But despite her dismay, a warm, happy glow was spreading from her stomach towards her heart.
Poppy flung herself down on the sofa. ‘I thought you might be staying in a villa or something. But this place is pokey. I don’t see a pool.’
‘That’s because there isn’t one.’ She was still stunned. ‘But there’s an ocean to swim in.’
‘Oh, well. I suppose it will have to do. Anything’s better than being at home with them.’
‘Them?’
‘Liz and Mike. The people who call themselves my parents.’
Katherine’s head was whirling. ‘How did you know I was here? Do Liz and Mike know you’re with me?’
‘I had your email address, remember? I emailed your work address and got an out-of-office reply, so I phoned them and told them I needed to know where you were. I told them it was urgent—a family emergency—and luckily I got through to a receptionist who didn’t know you had no family.’ The last was said with heavy and pointed emphasis on the ‘no’. ‘And as for Mum and Dad, no. They don’t know I’m here. They don’t care where I am!’
‘Poppy! They must be out of their minds with worry! You must—’
‘All they care about is their new baby. It’s Charlie this and Charlie that. God, why did they adopt me if they were going to go and have a baby of their own?’
Mike and Liz had had a baby? Well, it wasn’t unheard of for couples who believed themselves infertile to conceive spontaneously when they’d given up all hope of having a child, but Katherine wished Liz had written to tell her.
It had been a long time since she’d heard from Poppy’s adoptive mother. Not since a year ago when Poppy had turned sixteen and L
iz had emailed Katherine, telling her that any further contact would be up to Poppy. In the meantime, if Katherine chose to continue writing, not emailing if she didn’t mind as Liz couldn’t monitor those, she would keep the letters but only pass them on to Poppy when and if she asked.
It hadn’t been written to hurt her, although it had. In her heart, Katherine had wanted to argue but in her head she’d agreed. At sixteen Poppy was old enough to decide for herself whether she wanted to stay in touch. Katherine had always hoped that she would decide to—but not like this.
‘I didn’t know they had another child,’ Katherine said. ‘That must have been a surprise.’
‘They didn’t have another child. They had a child. I’m not their child. Not any longer. What is it with you lot that you can cast off your children when it suits you?’
‘They put you out?’ Katherine said, astonished and outraged. ‘But that’s—’
Poppy stared down at the floor. ‘They didn’t exactly put me out,’ she mumbled. ‘I mean, they never said in so many words that they wanted me to go—but it was obvious.’
‘And they don’t know where you are?’ Katherine asked, beginning to recover. ‘They’ll be frantic You need to let your parents—’
‘They’re not my parents!’
‘According to the law, they are. They’ve probably alerted the police. How did you leave without them knowing? When did you leave?’
‘Yesterday morning. I said I was going to a sleepover at my friend Susan’s’
Katherine was aghast. ‘You lied to them?’
‘Well, I could hardly tell them where I was going, could I?’
‘If you’re so convinced they don’t care, why didn’t you try it?’ Katherine winced at the tone of her own voice. Now she sounded as snarky as her daughter.
Poppy glowered. ‘They have to pretend, don’t they, that they care? Even if it’s all a big, fat act.’
‘Of course they care and they need to know where you are. They need to know you’re safe.’
