The Theotokis Inheritance (9 page)

Oscar glanced back, surprised. ‘Oh? Who was it?’

Helena stared up at him, her face expressionless. ‘It was a woman—she had two small boys with her. And she was very insistent that she spoke to you… that she and her sons… saw you, in person. She wouldn’t tell me what it was all about.’ Helena paused. ‘The letter she left is on the kitchen table. I’m sure it will explain everything,’ she added, treading firmly up the stairs.

F
OR
a long time after she’d gone upstairs, Helena sat staring out of the window at the familiar scene all around her, hating the thought of what it may look like if developers ever got their hands on Mulberry Court. She put her hand to her mouth as she imagined what it might become—a massive hotel… a huge commercial extension… and, worse, possibly a total demolition of the house, the entire property completely changed for ever. She shuddered as she imagined it.

And it was all very well for her to announce that
she
would never be party to selling to such people, she thought realistically, but even if a young family were to buy it—which Isobel had hoped might be the case—that didn’t mean that eventually they, too, wouldn’t sell to prospectors. Especially if the price was right. Helena knew that money was a powerful weapon, especially in the wrong hands. And the almost casual way in which Oscar had imparted the news convinced her that he didn’t feel the same about the house as she did. He would look for the highest bidder, of course he would—he was a businessman. Well, he couldn’t sell without
her
agreement, Helena thought decisively, and he was going to have to wait a long time for that!

She blew into Oscar’s handkerchief again; she
was
getting a cold, she thought, wiping her eyes. But it wasn’t just the cold that was irritating her tear ducts. She had several other reasons for feeling a bit low and, apart from the solicitor’s news, they all concerned Oscar. Helena knew she was being unreasonable. So what if he did have numerous women in tow? Hardly a surprise and no more than she would have expected and, anyway, what did it matter to her? What if Allegra—whoever she was—had lost her baby?

And as for the woman and those children—they could be anybody… a family he’d known for ages, just trying to catch up before they went back home—wherever home was. In any case, none of this was any of her business, she told herself again angrily. She and Oscar were just old friends, nothing more, whose ways had parted a long time ago, and unexpectedly brought together again by the rather whimsical act of an elderly lady. And that time he’d kissed her, and any sensuous feelings which had happened between them in the past few weeks were totally unimportant… they didn’t
mean
anything—to him. Oscar liked women—in every sense—and she, Helena, happened to be the woman he happened to be with at the moment. ‘Allegra’ or ‘Callidora’—or anyone else—would have done just as well.

Telling herself this was all right up to a point, Helena started to slowly get ready for bed, but the unalterable and painful fact was that Oscar still had an intractable emotional hold over her, an unassailable ability to make her ecstatically happy, to revel in being anywhere near him and to admit again and again that she had never
stopped loving him. Yet she had to accept the reality of their situation. This time next year Mulberry Court would no longer be theirs, she would be back in London with, presumably, enough money to buy herself a home of her own, and hopefully holding down a job which would keep her mind fully occupied, and away from pointless thoughts of the only man she had ever loved. And far, far away from imagining which woman he was spending his days with. His nights with…

All this introspection had made Helena temporarily forget Oscar’s proclamation that they were going away for a short break. She sniffed. You could hardly call it a suggestion, she thought; he hadn’t asked her whether she’d like to go or not—just that they were going, the day after tomorrow.

Helena had done very little travelling in her twenty-eight years, but had learned enough to whet the appetite. And it was after giving the matter a lot of thought she’d decided she would agree to go with Oscar, because it could be her only chance to see Greece—to see it with him. Something she’d once thought she might do one day. But this was not going to be a dream holiday, she assured herself—it was to be merely a minibreak, which busy people allowed themselves now and then. It would be a unique experience for her. And one which would never be repeated.

‘We’re going to a tiny island,’ he’d informed her over supper. ‘You’ll love it. It’s very beautiful but rather isolated, so you’ll only need to pack a small amount of light stuff, and sensible footwear—and plenty of sunblock.’

On Saturday morning they arrived at the airport, and within twenty minutes they had been swiftly transported across the tarmac to Oscar’s private jet. The speed with which it happened almost took Helena’s breath away. The few times she’d flown anywhere, the waiting around to join various endless queues had been one of her abiding memories of airports. But today their arrangements were prompt and seamless and soon they were climbing the few steps into the aircraft. As she was shown into the cabin—which resembled a small, opulent sitting room—Helena wondered whether she was going to wake up in a minute. Was this really happening? she asked herself as she almost fell back into the luxurious depth of one of the armchairs.

Oscar sat down opposite her, stretching his arms above his head lazily. He was wearing dark trousers and a dark cotton shirt open at the neck, and he smiled lazily across at Helena, his perfect teeth blindingly white against the polished bronze of his tanned skin.

‘I’ve ordered us some food once we are in the air,’ he said briefly. ‘Is that OK?’

Helena could only smile in response. She had nothing to complain about—so far! She knew she was excited—and she was going to put the sale of the house and her own future at the very back of her mind… just for these couple of days.

The one uniformed cabin attendant brought them their meal, served with iced water, and he spoke in rapid Greek to Oscar, who replied in the same way. As the steward backed away, it was quite obvious from the man’s deferential attitude that Oscar was held in very high regard. Well, why wouldn’t he be? It would be
Oscar’s signature that appeared on the all-important pay cheques of his vast number of employees.

After the man had gone they began their meal, and Oscar leaned forward to fill their glasses with more water. And, presently, Helena put down her fork and sat back.

‘I’ve never tasted stuffed vine leaves quite like those,’ she murmured. ‘Thank you, it was a very nice meal.’

Presently, their lunch things were removed and after a few minutes Oscar could see that Helena’s eyelids were beginning to droop. ‘How are you feeling?’ he enquired briefly. She was looking pale, and winsomely desirable, dressed in a long rust-coloured cotton skirt and a soft cream top which exposed her slender neck and shoulders.

‘Much better,’ Helena said, sitting forward at once, but he gestured for her to relax.

‘Have a sleep for an hour or so,’ he said easily. ‘When we land, there’ll be a car to take us to the quay. And a private ferry will get us to the island. And then I’ll show you one of the best places in the whole world.’

By mid-afternoon they were aboard the small private ferry which would take them to their destination. Aristi, the boat owner, greeted Oscar very enthusiastically, shaking him by the hand as he welcomed them on board, and casting a dark, appreciative glance in Helena’s direction.

It was a very hot day and Oscar looked down at Helena as they stood together at the prow of the small vessel, letting the cool draught fan their faces. ‘Aristi
informs me that this weather is going to continue for some weeks,’ he said. ‘It’s a shame we only have a couple of days, but that’ll be long enough for me to show you around.’ He pushed his sunglasses on to the top of his head for a moment. ‘On the whole, it’s quite a barren landscape, with just enough fertile land to support a small area of olive trees and vines, but it’s not a popular place with tourists because there’s very little on offer other than the natural beauty and solitude of the place. And the local population is small,’ he added.

‘So, what do people do with themselves?’ Helena wanted to know.

‘Oh, they keep goats, and work the land where they can—and there’s a small harbour which provides a useful living for some,’ Oscar replied. ‘He looked down at her. ‘Civilization roughly comprises a small hamlet of about a dozen houses—there are a couple of bars, and a taverna—which is where I always stay. The locals go over to the mainland for their other various needs,’ he added.

Helena looked at him pensively. In spite of all the places that someone as wealthy as Oscar could go to recharge his batteries from time to time, the remote island she was about to see was where he liked best. And of course it was close enough to Athens—and work—for him to get back easily enough. It warmed her heart to think that this rich, vastly important man enjoyed the simple pleasures of life.

They arrived at a small jetty and Aristi helped them off the boat, shaking Oscar’s hand vigorously before setting off again back to the mainland, shouting,
‘Ade ha’sou! Kali tihi!’
as he went.

Oscar glanced down at Helena. ‘He was hoping we’d have a nice day—and wishing us good luck,’ he explained and he smiled inwardly. He was fairly certain he wasn’t going to need any luck.

Oscar was carrying their two holdalls and they started walking up and away from the jetty, Helena wearing her large sun hat.

‘The taverna is only about a mile away,’ he said, glancing down at Helena’s feet. ‘Are you OK to walk in those sandals?’

‘Perfectly, thanks,’ she said, though thinking that maybe she should have worn her deck shoes. The ground was dusty and rather stony, and after only a few minutes some tiny bits of gravel began filtering in between her toes. But she’d grit her teeth, she thought. She wasn’t going to complain this early on in their ‘holiday’.

The picture Oscar had painted of the island had led Helena to think that it was far more remote than it turned out to be, because within twenty minutes they came to a small cluster of white-painted, cube-shaped houses, whose blue-shuttered windows were partly obscured by pots of flame-red geraniums, suggesting a kind of carnival atmosphere. In almost every small patch of garden were one or two tethered goats. And all around them were flourishing bushes of bougainvillea, and the tangible, overpowering perfume of rosemary and other sweet-scented herbs.

‘This is “civilization”,’ Oscar said briefly.

‘Oh,’
Helena breathed. ‘What a
pretty
scene; it’s like a picture book!’

Oscar looked down at her, pleased at her reaction.

Helena smiled up at him, knowing that she was going to love being here, despite the intense heat, which she could only tolerate for so long. ‘It’s very quiet,’ she said, lowering her voice so as not to disturb the pervading silence, and Oscar nodded.

‘It’s still siesta time,’ he said. ‘Everyone sleeps during the afternoon, but I know Alekos will be about, because he’s expecting us.’ He darted a quick glance at Helena. ‘Are you OK to keep walking? We’ll be there in just a few minutes.’

‘I’m fine,’ Helena replied.

Presently, they came to the taverna, which, Helena could see, was a somewhat larger version of the other houses on the island, but with an open frontage sporting decking on which were two small tables and wooden chairs shaded by blue-striped canopies which moved gently in the rather sparse breeze. There were balconies all around the first floor, bedecked with showers of more red geraniums, and under the shade of an adjacent olive tree a silent donkey stood, its head bowed, and it didn’t even look up as the two approached.

‘Alekos has had that ancient animal for years,’ Oscar said. ‘I don’t think it does much carrying any more—trucks are used now, of course. But in the old days, donkeys did all the work.’

Oscar ushered Helena in before him, and she breathed a small sigh of relief to be in the shade of the building. Hearing their footsteps, a small, excitable, black-eyed, black-haired middle-aged man came forward, uttering, to Helena, unintelligible words of welcome as he embraced Oscar, banging him furiously on
the back, his deeply olive complexion creased in genuine smiles of delight.

‘Oscarrr!’
the man exclaimed.
‘Ya su! Pos ise?’

‘I’m good, thanks, Alekos,’ Oscar said, releasing the man’s affectionate hold, and looking down at Helena. ‘This is Helena, Alekos, and she does not speak our language…’

The man immediately took Helena’s hand and kissed it effusively. ‘Of course… I am sorry! We shall continue in English! Come… come… drinks, water…?’

They all went into the sitting room and Helena took off her hat and ran her fingers through her dampened hair. What she’d like now, she thought, was a long, cool shower.

‘Where is Adrienne?’ Oscar asked Alekos, and the older man grinned.

‘My wife is in Athens! With our daughter! Because we have a new grandson, Petros—God be praised!’ Alekos exclaimed. ‘Adrienne will be returning in three days—but you are going before then?’ the older man asked.

‘Afraid so,’ Oscar said. ‘But many, many congratulations, Alekos! A child! What a blessing!’ he exclaimed.

‘Neh!’
Alekos agreed. ‘And a boy! God be praised!’ he repeated.

After other pleasantries had been exchanged and the three had sat in the darkened interior refreshing themselves with their drinks, Alekos led them up the stairs to a sparsely furnished room in which there was a massive bed spread with a pure white cover, a thick bolster and pillows at the head. The floors were wooden, with no carpeting of any kind, there were two small cabinets
with drawers, and two chairs. The shutters at the windows were tightly shut to keep out the heat, giving the room a cool, secretive atmosphere. And to the side was a minute room with shower and toilet.

After Alekos had departed, Helena sat gingerly on the edge of the bed and looked up at Oscar. She realized that she hadn’t given any thought to where they might be staying—she’d just followed Oscar’s plans, with no questions asked. But now she realized she was feeling stupidly shy at the position she was in… They were going to be sharing a bed. How was she going to deal with that? she asked herself, feeling frantic at the thought. Although they had been close, very close, a long time ago, they had never actually slept together, not in the accepted sense of that phrase. And things were different now; he had moved on—and away. She swallowed hard as their eyes met.