After the Honeymoon (16 page)

‘What about Jack?’ she said.

Greco gave another of his big shrugs. ‘He is almost a man, Rosie. It will not be long before he goes to college and flies the nest.’ He looked a little wistful for a moment. ‘Besides, it might be good for the boy to have me around more. I would have liked a son like that. It is a shame his father died before his time.’

Rosie looked away. Conversation about Jack’s father was never something she wanted to encourage, especially when it was founded on a lie. It made her feel uncomfortable. Yet Greco had a point when he said that Jack could do with a male figure. At fifteen, it was becoming even more important than when he was younger. Could this be a good thing, her and Greco? Not just for her but for her son too?

‘We could see what happens,’ she said, taking a deep breath.

Something flickered in Greco’s eyes. ‘See what happens?’ he repeated. ‘That sounds very modern to me.’ He put a finger under her chin, tilting it up to him. ‘Do you know why I haven’t committed to anyone before? It is because I wanted to be certain.’

His voice dropped so that she had to strain to hear it over the scream of the gulls. ‘And I am certain with you, Rosie. But I need you to be sure of me.’

Her lips were so dry that she could barely reply. ‘It’s very soon,’ she managed to say. ‘I mean, all this has happened so fast. But I do care for you, Greco. And I would always be true to you.’

His eyes flickered again. ‘That is all I ask.’ Then he bent down and his lips met hers. Every bone in her body vibrated; and not just because her back was pressed against the ship railings. Sometimes, she told herself, you just had to take a risk …

Greco held her hand as they got off the boat and continued to do so as he waved his other hand in greeting at one of the local boys who had arranged to pick them up from the harbour.

The excited look on the boy’s face as he took in the hand-holding was an indication of what was to come, thought Rosie with a rush of panic. He’d be on his mobile now within minutes, alerting the rest of the island. The English woman from the Villa Rosa had finally succumbed to the charms of Greco the rogue. All it had taken was a ‘business trip’ to Athens.

‘So,’ said Greco jauntily as the boy started the car up. ‘How has it been during our absence?’

He spoke from the back with his hand on Rosie’s knee, a gesture which the boy could see, from the way he kept grinning inanely in his rear mirror. ‘Good. Very good, although we had some trouble at Andidavies last night.’

Rosie mentally tuned out. Andidavies was the local nightclub. There was always trouble there, usually involving bored kids or holidaymakers who had had too much to drink.

‘It is to do with Jack,’ added the driver casually.

Rosie started. ‘What do you mean?’

He turned round briefly with a grin and then back again to take a sharp corner which sent his crucifix swinging from the mirror. ‘Your boy took a girl there. But there was an incident with a motorbike.’

Rosie’s mouth went dry. ‘Are they all right?’

‘I don’t know the details, but …’

They were here now. Rosie scrambled out of the door almost before the car had stopped. Leaving Greco to sort out the cases, she tore up the path to reception. No one was there. Oh my God. She should never have allowed Jack to be on his own. Fifteen was too young. She’d been an irresponsible mother …

‘Jack!’ she called out, racing towards the pool. There was a plump blonde woman sitting there on a lounger.

‘Are you looking for that boy at reception?’ she said, leaning on one elbow and peering over her paperback. ‘He’s gone to the market to get some fresh fish for lunch.’

So at least he was safe. ‘I heard there’d been an accident with a motorbike,’ stammered Rosie.

‘Not exactly an accident.’ The woman looked excited. ‘But he took a girl out on one of those scooter things, without telling her parents. Well, her mother. The father’s actually her stepdad. They’re staying here. And when they found out, they weren’t too pleased.’ Suddenly, she flushed. ‘Whoops, here they come now.’

Rosie stared at the slim, extremely beautiful woman with long dark hair floating towards her. Straggling behind was a sulky-looking teenage girl and a younger boy with freckles.

But it was the man Rosie couldn’t take her eyes off. A very tall, handsome man, possibly of West Indian extract. Bald. Rather like the man in the newspaper she’d seen in Athens, although of course that was impossible.

Wasn’t it?

Numbly, she absorbed the intimate way he had his arm around the woman and their low, urgent conversation. As they approached, he glanced up at her, his eyes hardening.

Rosie stopped breathing.

Had he recognised her? Yes. No. Why should he? Sixteen years was a very long time. Then again, maybe she was mistaken. Lots of people looked like others, didn’t they?

If it wasn’t Charlie, this man
did
look very like the celebrity in the newspaper. Her head went into a spin as she desperately tried to recall the words from the headline. A honeymoon in the Maldives. Not Greece.

‘May I help you?’ asked Rosie, gathering herself and holding out her hand in a cool greeting. ‘I’m Mrs Harrison. I run the Villa Rosa.’

The man’s brows knitted. He did not look pleased. ‘Jack’s mother?’

She nodded, heart pounding.

‘My name’s Winston King.’ He spoke in a quiet voice, although Rosie couldn’t help noticing that the plump blonde guest on the lounger was listening intently. ‘We need to talk.’

‘We went camping for our honeymoon but a storm blew the tent away. Best orgasm of my life.’

Lally, now divorced

EMMA

Winston? Winston King?

Emma hadn’t intended to listen in to the conversation between her new friend’s husband and this small, blonde woman with elfin features who had come running up the path from the taxi below.

Despite being curious she had forced herself to lie still, nose in her book, touching her ring every now and then to check it was still there.

But it had been impossible not to hear Melissa’s good-looking husband.

‘My name’s Winston King,’ he’d said. ‘We need to talk.’

Of course! She hadn’t recognised him from the school gates; she’d recognised him from the telly! How stupid had she been – although to be fair, he looked different in the flesh. Skinnier (they said telly made you look chunkier). And he wore sunglasses all the time here, which could make a person look quite different.

To think that she’d been within touching distance of the very celebrity who appeared on her telly every morning, encouraging her to do buttock squeezes while dishing out breakfast to the kids.
No flabby butts! Just great butts!
It was her mantra – and Mum’s too.

Emma was so excited that it was all she could do not to jump up and tell this god how amazing he was and how she’d been trying, really hard, to follow his routine
and
to eat less. But it was so difficult, what with the kids leaving so much on their plates (such a waste to leave it) and not having enough time to do his ‘Five A Day’ exercises.

Mum had bought her Winston’s
Get Fit for Summer
DVD in an effort to inspire her for the wedding, but there hadn’t been time to use it. Instead, it had sat next to the telly, with a picture of Winston grinning at her encouragingly.

And now, here he was, standing only a few feet away from her! It was all she could do not to whip out her mobile and text Mum or Bernie from work.

But it wouldn’t be right. People like him needed his privacy. Oh my God! So that’s why Melissa had asked her not to tell anyone they were here. And maybe that’s why her new friend hadn’t divulged her surname when introducing herself. She’d been worried that Emma would do exactly what she’d just thought of doing – ringing everyone at home.

Well, of course she wouldn’t. They might only be casual acquaintances, but she had more loyalty than that. Besides, she felt honoured to have been taken into Melissa’s confidence. Emma glowed. It was almost like being ‘one of them’, although it couldn’t be easy being famous and trying to live a normal life.

Quickly, she sneaked another look over her paperback at Winston. He was listening to the woman who, from what she was saying, was the villa’s owner. Mrs Harrison. She didn’t look old enough to be Jack’s mum. Perhaps she was one of those lucky people who didn’t look her age.

Regretfully Emma thought of the tired eye bags which had sprung up soon after Gawain’s birth. Winston and Mrs Harrison were moving away now. Melissa was with them too and their voices were rising. Oh dear. Emma hated arguments.

‘’Snot fair.’ The sulky-looking teenage girl was stomping around the pool, pouting and kicking her feet in the water every now and then as though to make her point. ‘We weren’t that late. And it wasn’t our fault the bike broke down.’

So that’s what had happened! Emma had been aware of some kind of problem when she’d come out for breakfast earlier on. Melissa had been sitting quietly, toying with a bowl of fresh fruit. Her son was at the table too, but not the daughter. Then Winston had arrived and they’d hardly spoken to each other, and they both ignored Jack, who was serving. When they stood up to go, Melissa had given her the briefest of smiles.

‘You know you weren’t even meant to be on a bike,’ the younger brother was saying now. ‘It’s against the rules. Mum always said so. Dad too. Ouch, don’t splash me like that.’

‘I’ll do what I like.’ The girl scowled. ‘’Sides, Dad isn’t here, is he? Only that stupid bloke that Mum’s married.’

The boy began kicking a pebble about on the ground. ‘Winston’s OK.’

‘You just think that cos he plays football with you.’ The girl was sitting on the edge of the pool, splashing the water angrily. ‘Dirty suck-up.’

‘No, I’m not!’

‘Yes, you are!’

Uh-oh. They were having a real water fight now! Emma gasped as she got splashed in the face. Her book was soaked through too. Leaping off the lounger, she grabbed her towel to cover up (maybe a bikini had been a bit too ambitious) and moved to the other side of the pool.

It wasn’t their fault, poor kids, she told herself. It wasn’t easy when your parents split up. She knew that. In fact, Alice wasn’t much younger than she had been when her dad had left. ‘You’ve ruined my life,’ she’d screamed at the time. She still believed it.

Winston and Melissa were walking back to the pool now, holding hands. The owner was nowhere to be seen. Had they sorted it out? She hoped so.

‘What was all that noise about?’ Winston was saying to the kids, looking from one to the other with a displeased look on his face.

‘Nothing.’ The boy glanced at his sister who, in turn, was sending him daggers. ‘We were just mucking around.’

Winston was looking at her now. Emma wondered again how on earth she hadn’t recognised him before. But you didn’t expect to bump into someone like that on holiday, did you? When someone was on television, you sort of assumed they had a different kind of life from yours.

‘I hope these two haven’t been bothering you?’

The girl winced. Emma’s heart went out to her. He shouldn’t talk like that, not when he wasn’t her father. If she’d been that girl, she’d have been upset too. ‘No, not at all.’ As she spoke, she slipped the wet paperback under her towel. ‘In fact, it’s really nice to hear children having a bit of fun.’

She felt herself colouring up. ‘I really miss my own kids. ’Course, they’re a lot younger, but watching your two – I mean your wife’s two – well, it shows me what it’s going to be like when my Gawain and Willow are older.’

There was a low mutter from Winston’s direction. It sounded something like ‘Good luck’. That wasn’t very fair. Melissa, she noticed, was shifting anxiously from one foot to the other. ‘How’s your husband doing?’

Instantly, Emma felt guilty. She should be worried about Tom, rather than someone else’s private life. ‘He’s stopped being sick, thanks,’ she said, suddenly aware that her towel had slipped and that her tummy was poking through. Quickly, she sat up straight and rearranged herself. ‘Thanks very much for the medicine. It worked a treat.’

She didn’t add that she’d slipped it into Tom’s water without him knowing.

Melissa looked pleased. ‘I got it from this alternative health shop just outside town. So is your husband going to be well enough to join us?’

Emma thought of Tom, whom she’d left sitting up in bed, next to the fan which the boy at reception had found for them.

‘Actually, he’s finding it a bit too hot.’

Melissa’s eyebrows lifted.

‘Yes, I know,’ continued Emma hastily, feeling rather silly. ‘Greece is … well, it’s a hot place, but I don’t think Tom realised quite how warm, if you see what I mean. But now he’s come out in this funny little pink heat rash, so he’s playing safe and staying inside.’

Melissa’s eyes were wide with sympathy. ‘Poor thing. I’ve got something for heat rash too, if you like.’

The girl rolled her eyes. ‘Mum’s got something for everything. She’s a walking medicine kit.’

Winston visibly stiffened. ‘There’s no need to be rude to your mother.’

‘I’m not. And it’s none of your business anyway.’

‘Alice,’ murmured Melissa weakly.

Oh dear. This was getting awkward. Clutching her towel, Emma tried to get off her lounger as elegantly as possible without revealing any more. ‘I think I’d better go and check on him,’ she said quickly. ‘Have a good afternoon. By the way, are you two doing the morning yoga?’

Winston looked awkward. ‘I’m helping them out, actually. I, er, do a bit myself, and the instructor has let them down.’

He was really staring at her, as though wondering if she’d guessed who he was. Should she come clean and say that she wouldn’t tell anyone? Maybe not.

‘That’s great.’ Emma began to shuffle off. ‘See you then. If not before. Bye!’

Walking back down to the cottage, Emma passed a woman selling shell necklaces from a basket with a baby sling round her neck.

‘You want?’

Emma shook her head, hungrily taking in the baby. She reminded her of Willow at that age, deliciously plump and small. Almost edible! ‘I’ve got two children at home,’ she said, feeling an urgent need to tell this woman that she was a mother too.