The Lost Swimmer (17 page)

‘Excuse me.' I jumped in fright as an elderly man creaked towards me. ‘You can't be up here. You must leave.'

‘I'm looking for my husband and a woman he was with. He's tall and dark with a beard, she's slim and blonde. Did you see them?'

The man shook his head. ‘You must go. Now.'

From past visits I knew that there were enclosed spaces that led to smaller stairwells. I wanted to look in them, determined to catch Stephen.

The elderly man followed my gaze and flapped his hands at me. ‘You must leave, please.'

I had no choice but to retreat the way I had come. He followed one step behind until I was back at the main entrance, where the girl was now dressed in leathers and motorbike helmet.

‘I have to meet Alexandros!' she moaned to my companion. ‘You know what he's like when I'm late.'

‘I'll close up,' he said kindly. ‘But take this one with you.' He gripped my elbow and flung me at the girl, then closed the heavy fortress doors behind us, locking me firmly out.

I made my way to the hotel, perplexed. Perhaps there would be a perfectly plausible explanation as to who the woman with Stephen was.

I opened the door to our room and was stunned to see Stephen sitting on the balcony wearing the same clothes I'd left him in, the T-shirt and shorts in which he'd flown over.

‘What were you doing at the fort?' he asked. ‘All the people had left and then I saw you up there.'

‘I was looking for you. I saw you when I was having a drink downstairs.'

A strange expression crossed his face as he replied calmly, ‘But I haven't left the room.'

I thought of what Burton had said, about MI5 spies and how easily Stephen would fit. I felt sick to be thinking this way about the man I'd been married to for decades.

‘You didn't go out at all?' I asked.

‘No. I had a good sleep and then read the paper.'

‘I thought you'd already read the paper?'

‘Not all of it,' he said, confused.

‘Where is it?' I looked around but there was no sign. I thought he'd left this morning's newspaper on the plane.

‘In the bin. I didn't think you wanted it.'

The bin was empty.

‘They did a turn-down service and tidied up. What's wrong, Bec? You're being weird. How was your day – did something go wrong?'

‘No, it was fine. We need to get ready for dinner,' I replied.

Burton's words haunted me again. Could there really be a part of Stephen I didn't know at all? Had my eyes deceived me today or had Priscilla been up on the fortress roof with him? What if she wasn't in Paris but had detoured here to surprise Stephen? My stomach churned as I changed into my cherry-blossom dress for the evening.

•  •  •

The long table in the courtyard overhung with vines was full of colleagues from around the world: our mini United Nations. Although I had sat Stephen as far away as possible from Burton, they had managed to end up together in the middle of the table, such was the loudness and disarray caused by so many vocal people catching up.

As I heard how hard things were in the harsh economic climate I began to think of Coastal as a haven amid global doom. My head swam from horror stories of redundancies. One English university was closing its entire Classics department and no one had jobs to move on to. Stephen caught my eye more than once during these discussions.

‘Maybe now you can see that the action I took was minor and necessary. Think how much worse things could have been,' he said in a soft voice as soon as there was a gap he could squeeze into.

‘You're right, as always,' I replied morosely. ‘But I don't think it's appropriate to point score when we're hearing these awful things, do you?'

Stephen refilled our glasses then set the bottle neatly back on the paper tablecloth emblazoned with a map of Crete.

‘You need to learn from this, Bec,' he said with intensity. ‘Things are changing fast. If you don't adapt you'll end up in real trouble.'

‘Listen to him,' Burton cut in loudly, drunk. ‘World's bloody expert on everything, Professor Stephen Wilding.'

‘Shut up, Burton,' Stephen muttered. ‘Don't ruin a good night.'

‘Cut other people's jobs but keep your own,' continued Burton. ‘Did you get a bonus for that, Wilding?'

Stephen called for the waitress. ‘Could we have coffee here, please?' He reached over and removed Burton's wine glass, placing it on the other side of the table, out of his reach. ‘You've never been able to handle your grog, Burton.'

‘You have no fucking right to tell me what to do! At least you can't sack me!' Burton flailed his arms wildly, sending wine splashing a red gash over Stephen's shirt.

Stephen leaped up, furious. ‘You idiot!'

I tried to wipe the stain with the tablecloth but Stephen brushed me aside. ‘I'm going to have to change,' he said brusquely.

‘Shall I come with you?' I asked.

‘No. And I'm not sure I'll be back.'

‘That's okay,' I said softly, catching Maria's attention. ‘Just stay at the hotel.'

‘Jesus,' Stephen turned on me, eyes flashing with fury, ‘I'm only here for you and now you're sending me home?'

‘You said you weren't coming back!' Burton chimed in unhelpfully.

Stephen reeled around and, for an instant, it seemed he might hit Burton.

‘Yeah, go on,' baited Burton, ‘slug a guy in a wheelchair, that'd be right. Dare you, Wilding. Here, let me turn my other cheek.' He did an exaggerated movement with his face, opening one side up to Stephen. ‘Go on,' he pointed at his jaw, ‘try to break it.'

With great effort Stephen regained his composure. Ignoring Burton, he stood and walked around the table shaking hands, making small talk and saying goodnight to everyone.

Maria approached as soon as Stephen left. ‘I really like him,' she said. ‘But what was that ruckus about?'

‘I thought you'd have better instincts, Maria,' snapped Burton and wheeled away. ‘I'm going to make those phone calls – I couldn't reach either of them earlier.'

‘I've made mine,' whispered Maria excitedly.

‘Hang on.' I touched her arm and raced after Burton. ‘Burton, remember not to tell them the question about Priscilla came from me.'

‘No worries,' he slurred.

‘Perhaps you'd better wait?' I held the back of his chair. He looked up at me. I stroked two strands of wayward hair off his forehead and he took my hand and kissed each finger.

‘I miss you,' he said.

‘I miss you too.' I extricated my hand. ‘Shall we get another drink?' I wanted to tell him about possibly seeing Priscilla today but he was too intoxicated. Like a mother, I ordered him lemonade and he drank it obediently while we listened to Maria's story.

‘Sofia hates her boss. She's worked with eight different bank managers over the years, each worse than the last.' Maria glanced around, making sure no one but us could hear. ‘This one's a common crook. He's always taking bribes, which isn't unusual in itself but the size of them evidently is. Staff are forced to do things they feel very uncomfortable about. Of course they get no extra.' Maria rubbed her fingers together. ‘Only him, which is why he's loathed.'

‘So, it's more than possible someone bribed him to set up the accounts in my name?'

Maria nodded firmly and Burton nodded exaggeratedly, too drunk to notice what he was doing.

‘Sofia remembers you and the way he slammed the door on your heels,' said Maria with gleaming eyes.

‘I'm surprised I didn't notice her. I must be growing unobservant if I missed a giantess.'

‘She was sitting down behind the counter and wasn't serving. Having a cigarette and keeping out of sight of customers. Sofia remembers you well, she was curious what your business was.' Maria held up a finger momentously. ‘Now, here's the thing. Sofia didn't go out – she'd brought her lunch with her – and she doesn't recall the bank manager seeing anyone but you all day. So, if someone really did ask about that account, they must have phoned, which Sofia considers unlikely as the manager rarely bothers to take calls. And he told you someone came in, didn't he?'

‘Yes, but why would he make it up? He could have just asked me for more money. He went so cold. It doesn't make sense.'

Maria shrugged. ‘Who knows, maybe he thinks you'll be back and will pay more now you've been sent away the first time?'

I nodded but wasn't convinced. ‘Your cousin surely went to the bathroom sometime. Maybe she missed the person coming in?'

‘And go out as well?' Maria shook her head.

‘She makes a good point,' slurred Burton.

‘I'll interrogate further once I see Sofia. And she's promised to get the original paperwork from when the two accounts were opened. That should shed some light for us.'

I hugged Maria's little body and she returned the embrace, surprisingly strong for such a sparrow.

Burton threw his arms around both of us and promptly fell asleep. Maria gently lifted his head and settled him in his chair. She took off her coat and wrapped it over his knees.

‘If I were twenty years younger,' she sighed. ‘He needs someone to look after him. Perhaps if you ever leave your husband?' A full twinkling grin caught her lips. ‘But I have to say again I like Stephen. I didn't get the feeling he was a two-timer, Rebecca. He felt solid. And apart from a clear rivalry with Burton, he behaved impeccably. Perhaps he's not having an affair at all? We can all let our imaginations run away.'

I pondered Maria's words through a restless night as Stephen lay beside me snoring gently. Could I be inventing his infidelity? Being accused of something I hadn't done could be making me paranoid. But my worries about him had started before the fraud had surfaced. Could Burton be right – was I the nun to Priscilla's high-class whore? Was that how Stephen viewed me: dutiful and sexless? Despair seeped in a sigh from my lungs, emptying me; the air in the room was suddenly stifling. I'd always thought Stephen found me attractive – he'd said it so often I believed him, or wanted to. Although others said I had a good figure and a pretty face, I never could see it myself, and now I realised maybe Stephen thought like I did. Perhaps for him, the intimacy I found so deeply reassuring was just his putting up with the fumbling rhythms of the plain and boring? If he was with Priscilla or another woman, was the sex extreme? What would they be doing? Stabbing pains shot through my gut.

But Burton always had been melodramatic.

I turned and watched Stephen's chest moving up and down, his pyjama top unbuttoned in the heat revealing his strong tanned chest with a few wisps of dark hair. I laid my hand lightly on him and could feel his heart beating in soft, rhythmic throbs. I stayed like that for a long time until, in the scorching salty air, I finally fell asleep.

•  •  •

Burton, clean and neat and remarkably clear-eyed, welcomed us at the airport after we checked in.

‘Come to apologise?' Stephen asked gruffly.

‘Whatever,' said Burton, grinning.

Stephen bit back a reply and headed off. ‘Getting a paper.'

‘Thank God he's out of the way,' muttered Burton, ‘I'd been worrying about how I'd see you on your own. I made those calls last night. Don't worry, I waited till I was sober.'

I braced myself for what was coming next.

‘It's okay, Bec. Neither of them had noticed anything different about Priscilla. They certainly don't think she's having an affair with Stephen.'

I let out my breath, so relieved I felt light-headed.

‘Not that they'd necessarily know,' Burton pointed out.

‘I've been starting to imagine things,' I said. ‘Yesterday, I could have sworn I saw Stephen with Priscilla on top of the fort.'

Burton took this in with an intensity that darkened his features. ‘There
is
one thing, Bec: Priscilla is out of the country at the moment. They said in Paris doing research. But that wouldn't mean she couldn't be in Greece for a rendezvous.'

‘I had the same thought. I know about Paris. Oh Burton, don't feed my paranoia.'

‘Well, it's logical. But do you think Stephen would really go that far? It seems a bit desperate.'

‘I shouldn't have opened my big mouth. Now your good news isn't helping,' I replied, frustrated. ‘And in the end, I don't think it was him I saw up there anyway. I was a long way away.'

‘And he does look quite generic. Tall bearded alpha male. I often see tourists around here who remind me of him. Speaking of which, your Greek god's returning,' warned Burton. ‘I must make tracks.' He flung his arms around me and I buried my face into his soft, warm neck.

‘Visit again soon?' he asked sadly.

‘Why don't you come and see me? You're always welcome to stay.'

‘Let me know when Adonis is away and maybe I will.'

‘That's a deal,' I said and we hugged again.

‘I'll keep in touch,' he whispered. ‘We'll phone you as soon as we have more about the bank. We're heading off tomorrow.'

I kissed him gratefully on the cheek. Behind us, Stephen made a grunting noise. We turned but he was absorbed in the business pages of the
International New York Times
. Burton left without saying goodbye to him. Nor did Stephen look up and offer a farewell.

‘T
hey say it's only sleeping.'

Stephen craned his neck for a better view as the plane banked close to Mount Vesuvius. ‘It's still alive.' The volcano that had sown death and destruction over the centuries was a beast in waiting, hungry for more.

The car I'd booked online wasn't ready. Flavia, wafting a heavy floral perfume, clicked and clacked behind her screen, trying to find a replacement. She tossed her mane of dark hair dramatically, flashing long fingers adorned with huge rings through it. The air of the tiny office was thick with humidity, and the roaring traffic of Naples made the space even more claustrophobic.