by HC Michaels
Millie looked at her uncertainly, trying to make up her mind as to exactly how it sounded.
Then she nodded. It was a fast, efficient nod and Tessa knew exactly who she’d picked it up from. For a few seconds Millie was a three-foot-tall version of Elvira, wearing a yellow dress and sparkly sandals.
Tessa had noticed after returning from Greece that Millie had acquired several of Elvira’s mannerisms. It made her wonder how many of her own Millie had and whether Elvira noticed them.
Millie slipped her hand into Tessa’s, and they walked to the apartment, stopping only several dozen times to study fascinating things like a beetle with four wings, a crack in the pavement and a small purple flower growing out of the lawn. Millie seemed to be blind to the million-dollar yachts, the old man holding hands with a twenty-year-old or the two clearly underage girls sitting on a park bench giggling as they passed a can of beer between them, grimacing as they took their turn for a slug.
That was just one of the things Tessa loved about children Millie’s age. They were so grounded. They reminded her about the little things in life and pointed out all the fascinating things in the world she’d ordinarily walk right past. Why should a drunk sixteen-year-old be any more interesting than a golden beetle stretching out its wings?
Besides, it was distracting Tessa from what just happened. The world’s most unfortunate coincidence. Of all the men she’d had to meet in Mykonos, it had to be Elvira’s brother. Her mother had told her once that there was no such thing as a coincidence. It was the universe sending a message.
What possible message could the universe be sending her? Was it possible she was being told it was time to leave her job? She’d become increasingly aware of the danger of her attachment to Millie. Was she meant to seek employment elsewhere?
But where? She could enquire about working here on the island, she supposed. It must take thousands of staff to run an island like this, and she had plenty of experience in hospitality back in London before she’d decided to become a nanny.
This reminded her of the reason she’d taken this job. She hated hospitality. Or maybe it was just the pub she’d worked in. Dealing with drunken men pinching her on the behind was just all part of the joy of it. Most of them did it truly believing she’d turn around and smile at them. On her last day of work, after she’d handed in her resignation, she’d gathered a tray of beers and calmly walked around to three men who’d bothered her right throughout the summer and dumped a pint each over their heads.
Of course, they thought it was a come-on, so it didn’t really solve anything except making her feel really good.
“Come on, Tessa!” Millie tugged on her hand as they ambled along.
But something had Tessa distracted further down the marina. Or rather, someone. Is that…? No, surely not.
“Rude to stare! Rude to stare!” Millie chanted, tugging harder on her hand.
“Hang on.” Tessa planted her feet and squinted. “I think I see my brother.”
What would Darcy be doing here? He should be finishing his honeymoon and back in London by now.
“You don’t have a brother, silly!” Millie giggled.
“I do,” she said, shaking her head as the man turned the other way. “But I must be imagining things. My brother isn’t anywhere near here. It was just someone who looked like him.”
They walked on and Tessa wondered if maybe she was more homesick than she thought. She wasn’t even that close to Darcy, so she had no idea why she’d be mistaking someone else for him right now. It must just have been the shock of seeing Kosta so unexpectedly that had her jumpy.
They reached the apartment and Tessa got Millie set up in front of the television with a Vegemite sandwich and half-filled glass of milk on the coffee table in front of her. This guaranteed her at least an hour’s peace.
She made sure the front door and balcony were locked and went to the bathroom, closing the door behind her.
It was nice and cool in there and she leant on the back of the door and breathed in the quiet.
She was overreacting to this whole thing. So what if Kosta was Elvira’s brother. It wasn’t like he was close to her. They hated each other, although the reason for that was yet to become clear. Something big had obviously gone down at some stage.
She could just avoid Kosta while on the island, then when they returned home to Melbourne, life would return to normal. She just needed to be strict with herself and not ever mention him again. There could be no asking Elvira questions about her childhood as a way of secretly finding out about how Kosta grew up. No searching Elvira’s face for similarities to her brother, and definitely no snooping in Elvira’s photo albums that she kept neatly lined up on the bottom shelf of the bookcase in the living room. Actually, now that she thought about it, Elvira and Paul didn’t have a single photo in a frame in their entire house. Not even one stuck to the fridge with a wonky magnet. Was that odd?
Odd or not, if she was going to continue to work for Elvira, she had to find a way to eliminate Kosta from her brain. Immediately! As soon as Tessa got back to Melbourne, she’d go down to the pub and flirt back with that barman who always found reasons to talk to her. Maybe she’d even ask him out on a date.
She turned on the shower and slipped out of her clothes. Being naked wasn’t helping with her brain elimination process, given the last person to see her in this state was the very person she was determined not to think about.
She stepped under the warm water.
God, he’d been good in bed. His hands had found places on her body that until then had been undiscovered. Who knew the inside of her elbow could be so sensitive! He’d been able to reduce her to a quivering mess within minutes of walking into the room, seeming to take as much pleasure in her release as he took in his.
Sex with Kosta had made her feel worshipped, adored, and desired in ways she’d never imagined.
Until it was over. Then he’d leave her feeling confused, desperate, and wanting more from him physically and emotionally.
Ultimately, he’d left her feeling foolish.
Her only saviour had been that she was able to walk away.
And now he’d followed her. Well, not followed exactly, but they’d ended up in the same place, linked by the most extraordinary circumstances.
If she wanted Millie to stay in her life, which she most certainly did—she planned on keeping in touch with her long after she grew to an age where she needed a nanny—then Millie’s uncle would always be there looming in the background. If she attended Millie’s wedding one day, Uncle Tino would be there as well.
She turned the heat down in the water. She was being foolish again. How silly to worry about something as far away as Millie’s wedding when she had the rest of this trip to get through (it no longer felt like much of a holiday).
She needed to avoid Kosta. For a start she was going to begin to think of him as Tino. If he had a different name, he could be a different person. She’d left Kosta in Greece. Tino was a stranger. He meant nothing to her.
Why then, did she feel like her whole world had just imploded?
Tino found his father lying on his bed with his hands folded behind his head.
“You okay, Dad?” he asked, sitting cautiously on the edge of the bed.
His father sat up, bringing his face to within inches of his own. “You living in Greece? You calling yourself Kosta? Why?”
It hurt to see his father’s face contorted with such disappointment.
He shrugged. “I dunno.”
“Don’t you talk bullshit to me, Cos-tan-tino.” He emphasised each syllable of his name. “You don’t know. Pfft! I’m the one who doesn’t know.”
“I needed to get away.” Tino grimaced. “You understand that, don’t you? You and Mum ran away, too.”
“Don’t you put that onto me, you hear me.” He pointed at him, stabbing his finger into his chest. “You and Elvira knew exactly where we go. We ask you to come and visit us. But you. You told me you was in Americas. Your m
other be bragging to everyone she know about her son living the life in Americas.”
“Is it because I didn’t go to Italy?” The truth was, Tino had started out in Italy, but everything—or rather everyone—there reminded him of home. If he was going to run away, he needed to do it properly.
“I don’t care where you go.” His father brought down his arms to cross them tightly. “You live on moon for all I care. Just tell me where you are. Is that too much to ask? You my son!”
Tino shook his head. “Are you upset about the nanny thing?”
His father looked at him like he’d spoken in another language. “Why I care about that? Better Elvira’s nanny than her husband.” A hint of a smile crossed his face at his own joke.
Tino laughed, trying to coax his father to join in.
He didn’t.
It’d been a shock to see Tessa. He’d seen her walk in when he’d been on the balcony. For a moment he’d thought she followed him here from Mykonos, until he saw Amelia clinging to her leg and realised she must be the nanny Elvira had said she was waiting for.
Tessa had mentioned she was a nanny, but he’d only been half listening. He didn’t really care what she was, as long as she was naked. She’d been a good fuck, even if she’d gotten clingy towards the end. All women got clingy in the end. It was bloody annoying.
He wouldn’t have gone near her if he knew she worked for his sister. He’d been trying to cut ties with Elvira from his life, not create new ones.
But now that she was here and the damage with Elvira was done, maybe he could get Tessa alone and give her one more for the road. She’d feel good under his hands again. He could relieve some of that pressure that had been building up inside him since he heard of his mother’s death. It had to be easier than finding some new bird on the island. So far, from what he’d seen all the women here either had grey hair, husbands, or babies in prams.
“Why you come here, Tino?” His father had been studying him like he used to do when he was a child. Except instead of adoration in his stare, it was now filled with disappointment.
He hadn’t been forgiven yet.
“I thought…” He let out a long sigh. “I thought you’d want me here. I wanted to say goodbye to Mum.”
His father got up from the bed and walked across to the window. “I don’t know what happen to this family. We all so close when you were little. And now. I don’t know why this happen to me. I try always to be a good father. All those things that happen when you were teenager. I never saw us like this.”
“You were a good Dad. You are,” he corrected. “It’s me who’s the crap son.”
His father didn’t argue with him. He just chewed on his bottom lip and closed his eyes.
Tino had gotten very ill as a teenager, spending the best part of a year in the Royal Children’s Hospital. His parents had never left his side. When he thought about it now, it must’ve been a huge strain on their marriage. With one of them always keeping vigil by his bedside, they must barely have seen each other. Elvira had been there, too, as his doting big sister, bringing him chocolates and paper bags filled with McDonald’s. He’d never have pulled through without their constant support.
His father was right. They had been a close family. It was hard to believe they’d ended up scattering in so many directions.
“Why did you and Mum move here?” Tino asked, trying to change the subject.
His father’s eyes snapped open. “What happened back then, it hurt me, too. Elvira think it all about her. You think it all about you. Well, your mother and me, we hurt, too. We couldn’t watch no more. We already been through too much.”
“I’m sorry, Dad.” Tino walked over and put his arms around him, relieved when his father returned the embrace.
His parents’ forgiveness had always been easier to achieve than his sister’s.
Maybe if he wanted her forgiveness, he was going to have to say he was sorry.
But why did that feel impossible? He was sorry.
Wasn’t he?
Elvira could hear Tino laughing with their father upstairs.
She decided not to stick around to witness the smug look on his face when he returned downstairs. It made her sick. He always managed to talk his way out of anything.
He’d lied to their parents about what country he was living in. He’d been using a false name. And he’d screwed her nanny. But, oh yes, it was all so bloody funny.
She needed to be alone, so decided to take the buggy up to Lookout Hill. She’d seen the signs on the road pointing to it and the name suggested it might have a spectacular view. She could sit in the buggy and try to do some of those breathing exercises her therapist had given her.
Maybe then she’d have the strength to face Tino.
She’d only gone to two sessions with the therapist back when everything happened. She knew she should’ve continued, but it was just so hard. All the therapist had wanted to do was talk about…that day…and all Elvira had wanted to do was avoid talking about it.
Maybe if she’d continued, she wouldn’t be such a bitch now. She knew that’s how other people saw her and it was her own fault, but she couldn’t help it. She heard the words coming out of her mouth, felt the hard expression on her face as she was saying them, but sometimes it was the only way she could communicate. The words just didn’t come out any other way.
Besides, most days she was actually toning down how she felt. If she spoke in the way she wanted to, she’d be screaming at everyone, and she always made a point of never raising her voice. Her Nonna had been the same and it was a trait she’d always admired, consciously deciding at a very young age to be exactly the same when she grew up.
She put the key in the buggy and took off with a jolt, forgetting how sensitive the accelerator was. It had been lazy of her to drive the buggy to her father’s apartment, but she’d been wanting to make a point to Tessa that it was for her use. She’d seen the way she was eyeing it off.
Tessa was young and fit. The island wasn’t that big. Those long legs of hers could walk her anywhere she needed to go. And she was paid well. She didn’t need a buggy thrown into the deal.
Elvira drove up the steep hill and took a left towards the lookout. It was a fun vehicle to drive, kind of like an oversized dodgem car. It reminded her of when she was a kid. Back when nothing in the world seemed to matter.
Not that she wanted to think too much about being a kid. All those memories were so closely woven together with memories of Tino, and she really didn’t want to think about him right now. That was the whole purpose of her leaving her father’s apartment.
She still wanted to have it out with him, but he’d really thrown her with that whole Tessa thing. She just couldn’t buy the coincidence. He was definitely up to something.
She reached the top of Lookout Hill and pulled into a parking space, deciding to get out and take in the view properly. The name hadn’t lied—it was beautiful. She could see other tree-lined islands in the distance, surrounded by some of the bluest water the world had to offer.
No wonder her parents had wanted to build a life here. Their troubles in Melbourne must have felt so far away. If only she could feel the same. Her troubles always travelled with her. She could climb to the top of Mount Everest and there they’d be, sitting on her shoulder reminding her of her grief.
She leant against the white timber railings and took in a deep breath of clean air.
Breathe in positivity. Breathe out negativity. In. Out. In. Out.
It was stupid, really. That breathing exercise had never worked for her in the past. Why should it work for her now?
She thought of the dreams she’d been having about Amelia. Would breathing exercises be able to stop them? She doubted it. They seemed determined to haunt her.
She knew Tessa thought it was unreasonable to forbid Amelia from swimming on the island, but she couldn’t tell her why. She’d think she was mad. They were only dreams. Better for Tessa to think she was being a cow th
an for her to think she was the kind of woman who believed in her dreams.
She was just being cautious with Amelia. She didn’t actually expect her dream would really happen. If there was one thing she was certain of in life, it was that dreams most definitely didn’t come true.
They only ever morphed into nightmares.
Paul entered the apartment and braced himself for Amelia to come running into his arms.
She didn’t. There was nobody home.
“Elvira?” he called. “Tessa?”
They must be at Elvira’s father’s apartment. Or down at the pool. He shuddered, thinking of the recurring nightmare Elvira had been having.
Elvira had said it was just a dream and meant nothing. He’d wanted to disagree with her but wasn’t keen on her potential reaction. Her words could be even sharper than that fringe she’d had cut across her forehead. He hated that bloody fringe. It reminded him of a blind being pulled down, like she was sending him a message that she’d begun to shut down. She already had in so many ways. She most definitely wasn’t the carefree woman he’d married, that much was for sure.
Not that he’d tell her any of this, of course. He made a point of never arguing with her. Or anyone. He’d grown up in a big, noisy Italian family.
People didn’t talk to each other in his family—they shouted, they swore, and they shrieked. Emotions were always big, and swung from happy to sad like a pendulum, never resting in between.
It was exhausting.
When he was twelve years old Fran gave up chocolate for lent. Tired of all the noise in his house, he decided to give up arguing. For forty days and forty nights he held his anger and his tongue, nodding politely whenever anyone disagreed with him. He got so good at it that for a while he imagined himself to be the image of Jesus.
He liked the calm this new way of life brought him so much he decided to make it permanent. It was amazing how much energy he had when he wasn’t using it up arguing.
He still argued with people in his head, of course. That was impossible to give up, no matter how much like Jesus he was.
