My Map of You (14 page)

‘The tour buses come through here sometimes,' Aidan explained. ‘It's a good way for the locals to make a bit of extra cash.'

She started to follow him across the square, but found herself drawn to the last stall along. The wooden top was adorned with spools of lace, and Holly ran her fingers across each of them in turn.

‘That's all made locally.' Aidan had appeared at her shoulder. The old man had shuffled down to greet them and was now smiling at Holly, showing off a row of gnarly teeth. Aidan said something to him in Greek and then turned to Holly. ‘It's usually ten euros per metre, but he says for you it's a special price.' He winked at her. The Greek man gabbled something else at Aidan, pointing across the table as he did so.

‘He will make you a special deal,' Aidan translated. ‘Eight metres for forty euros.'

‘Is that good?' Holly was thinking about all the beautiful things she could make with the lace.

Aidan shrugged. ‘Things are only worth what you're willing to pay for them.'

Ten minutes later, her stash of Greek lace safely stowed in the jeep, Aidan and Holly finally sat down in a café. They were the only customers, but the middle-aged woman looking after the place still took her time taking their order. Aidan grinned widely at her departing back.

‘You have to love the Greeks,' he said. ‘You could drop ten million euros out of the sky and they'd still finish their coffee before they bothered to pick any up.'

‘I can't say I blame them,' Holly said, thinking of how manic and pushy everybody was in London. ‘Everyone here just seems so relaxed.'

‘Too relaxed, sometimes,' he replied. ‘Trying to tell a Greek that their sick animal needs to be seen to today, rather than next week, can be a trial. When I first opened my practice down in the town, I thought everyone would bring their pets to me. I was sadly mistaken on that score.'

The woman was back with their frappés and she smiled shyly at Holly as she set down the napkins.

‘She probably recognises you,' Aidan said when they were alone again. ‘Sandy used to drive up here all the time to buy her lace.'

Holly looked at him. ‘Is that why you brought me here?'

‘Partly.' He didn't look at all contrite. ‘But it was mostly because I wanted you to see what the real Zakynthos is like, away from the more touristy areas. The way people live here, in this village, is how they've lived for centuries.'

‘It's so quiet,' marvelled Holly. It was beautiful too, she thought. The café in which they were sitting had white walls and a trellis covering the outside seating area. When
Holly looked up, she could see grapes dangling down through the gaps, their plump little bodies basking happily in the sunshine.

‘I thought we could go up to the viewing point above the Shipwreck,' Aidan said, sipping his frappé. ‘It's a bit of a tourist haunt, but it's also the most famous landmark on the island and, if I'm not mistaken, your ma and Sandra thought it was worth a look.'

Holly had seen photos of the famous Shipwreck beach, with its white sand and paintbox-blue sea. Jenny and Sandra had drawn a half-sunk boat on their own map and scribbled the words ‘photo opp' next to it.

‘That sounds perfect,' she smiled at him. ‘Thanks for this – for taking me out, I mean. I know you must be busy.'

‘Nonsense,' Aidan held up his hand. ‘I'm never too busy to spend the day with a pretty girl.'

A flush of warmth crept across Holly's chest at this and she started to laugh it off.

‘I'm sure you could have your pick of the girls on this island,' she told him. ‘Annie told me that you're not short of admirers.'

‘Oh, did she now?' Aidan laughed. ‘She needs to wind in her gob, that one.'

‘Do you not get lonely?' Holly asked, immediately regretting it. Her mouth seemed to have a mind of its own today.

‘It's impossible to get lonely on this island,' he said, stirring the ice around in his glass. ‘Once you're friends with the Greeks, they become more like family, you know? Everywhere I go I'm welcomed with open arms.'

As if to reinforce the point, he suddenly wrapped his arms around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. Holly, caught completely by surprise, became uncomfortably aware of how broad and firm his chest was, and how much her knees were now trembling.

‘Just like that, you see!' Aidan pulled away as if nothing had happened, leaving Holly to hyperventilate quietly into her glass of water. ‘But anyway, what was I saying? Oh yeah, um, no, I don't really get lonely. And I always have Phelan here, don't forget.'

At the sound of his name, Phelan lifted his head and wagged his tail through the dust. He'd been sitting so quietly by their feet that Holly had forgotten he was there at all. The waitress arrived back with their breakfast – an omelette for Aidan and cheese pies for Holly. She had been tempted to order a tomato salad and ask for extra honey, but she didn't want Aidan to think she was mad. The pies were more than a worthy contender in the taste stakes anyway. Holly almost let out a groan of pleasure as she bit through the flaky warm pastry and encountered the salty, oozy cheese inside.

‘So, you said your mum lived here?' she asked once she'd finished her first pie. She was keen to steer the conversation away from anything that might lead to talking about relationships. If Aidan did have a secret girlfriend squirrelled away somewhere, she didn't want to know – and she wasn't ready to tell him about Rupert, either.

‘That's right.' Aidan had finished his water and started picking at the label on the bottle.

‘Did she work here too?'

‘She used to be an artist.' He turned but didn't quite
meet her eyes. ‘She had a lot of success when I was growing up, but it tailed off as she got older. She didn't cope with that very well.'

‘That's understandable,' Holly said.

‘Well, not really.' Something in Aidan's manner had hardened. ‘Not when it means you have to cut yourself off from your family and everyone who cares about you.'

There was an uncomfortable silence.

‘Was she depressed?' Holly asked quietly.

‘Yeah, the silly old mare. Nobody was buying any of her paintings any more and she took it
way
too personally. It was actually Sandra who helped her get back on her feet, you know.'

Holly nodded and took another bite of her pie. It really was very tasty.

‘I think that's why we became such good friends, you know, your aunt and me – I think she felt like she had a duty to look after me too, because my mam wasn't really in a position to do it herself.'

He was saying all this to her so matter-of-factly, and seemed so strong about it all, that Holly couldn't help but feel a wave of affection towards him.

‘I'm sorry,' she finally muttered, unsure what else she could say. She understood exactly what it was like to have a person there who wasn't really there at all. But at least Aidan's mum was still alive – at least she had friends and family to help her. Holly thought helplessly of her own mum sitting in that chair, her head lolling to one side, her skin tinged blue.

‘I still get on great with my dad, mind,' Aidan went on, mercifully yanking Holly's attention back to the present
day. ‘He lives over in Ireland, though, so visits are a rare thing these days.'

Holly thought about mentioning her own dad, but what would she say? That he might be a freedom fighter in jail somewhere, or that, more likely, he was a random drifter that her mum had shacked up with for a few weeks then forgotten all about. Holly had been thinking a lot about who her father might have been over the past few days. He'd always been an unknown entity before; she'd accepted long ago that she'd never meet him. But getting the letter from Sandra had made her question everything her mum had ever told her. If Jenny had omitted to tell Holly about the existence of an aunt, then it made sense that she would have fabricated the whole story about her dad too. The problem was, she didn't even know where to begin looking for him.

She looked over at Aidan, who seemed to be lost in melancholy thoughts of his own. Astounded at her own bravery, Holly slid a timid hand across and squeezed his arm.

As they sat together, each lost in their own memories but comforted by the support of the other, the bells in the village church began to ring.

Monday, 25 June 1990

Dearest Sandra,

Well now, that sounds all wrong. I never call you Sandra, do I? I wish I could sit here and tell you that I'm sorry it ever happened, but I can't. I can't tell you what you really want to hear. We
reached Indonesia two days ago. Sandy, you would love it here – the sea is like bath water and the people are so open with their hearts. I'm sitting here now on the sand, writing to you, and a local boy is plaiting Holly's hair. It's so adorable. I think we may stay here for a few months. Well, unless you tell me to come home. You know we would be on the next flight. I miss you, Sandy, and Holly misses you too. All my love, now and for ever, your twinny,

Jen Bear xxx

It
was only a short drive from Volimes to Navagio, which was home to the lookout point above the Shipwreck Beach. Despite the fact that it had become a major tourist attraction, the Greeks hadn't cashed in with buildings on the picturesque cliff edge. In fact, the only things there other than a large car park filled with coaches, quad bikes and hire cars was a small mobile food stall and a few dubious toilets housed inside small huts.

They arrived at the same time as a coach full of German tourists, so Aidan suggested they wait in the jeep until the coast was clear. It was nearing 11 a.m. now and the morning clouds had long since been brushed away by the sweeping power of the sun. Holly rested her bare arm on the jeep door and fanned herself with the map. The air was deliciously fragrant thanks to the surrounding pine trees and she could still taste the cheesy remnants of her breakfast. Aidan, meanwhile, was thoughtfully picking at a bit of spinach that had become lodged in his teeth – a leftover from his own morning meal.

‘Will you take a look at her,' he exclaimed, tapping Holly on the arm as a young woman strutted past the jeep wearing high-heeled wedges and a thong bikini. Her bottom was so round and so brown that it looked like a freshly dropped conker.

‘Bloody hell!' Holly slapped a hand over her mouth so
the woman wouldn't hear her yelp of laughter. ‘She's brave.'

‘You say brave, I say bleeding ridiculous,' Aidan replied, not bothering to hide his own bellow of mirth. The young woman inclined her head slightly in their direction, but she looked to Holly to be more delighted than embarrassed.

‘I mean,' Aidan went on, ‘I'm all for ladies getting their bottoms out and all, but there's a time and a place for such stuff. A more private place, perhaps?'

The idea of bare bottoms in private places with Aidan made Holly blush from her throat to her hairline, so she quickly changed the subject.

‘Come on then, Mr Tour Guide, tell me what I'm about to see. What is this shipwreck place?'

Aidan put on an authoritative voice as he replied, which made them both giggle. ‘Known locally as Smugglers' Cove, this beach is home to the wreck of a cigarette smuggler's boat, which crashed here in the late 1970s,' he announced. ‘Thanks to the limestone cliffs in this area of the island, the sea around the cove is crystal clear.'

‘You're very knowledgeable,' Holly told him, still grinning at the stupid voice.

‘I haven't been up here in ages, actually,' he said, turning to look at her. ‘My ex used to like bringing a picnic up here sometimes, in the spring when there weren't as many tourists around. I guess since she left I haven't really bothered.'

Holly wanted to ask him what had happened to break them up, but she couldn't quite pluck up the courage. Instead she turned away from him and reached over to
the back seat to stroke Phelan, who was gently snoring with one eye open.

‘Ridiculous creature,' Aidan said, taking his hand off the steering wheel and ruffling Phelan's silky head. As his fingers brushed against hers, Holly felt a trickle of delight spread through her hand and into her bare arm, and quickly moved out of reach.

‘Come on,' Aidan said, defusing whatever it was that had just fizzled up between them. ‘Thong lady's back on her bus – I reckon the coast is clear.'

Holly had looked at endless photos of the Shipwreck Beach before she arrived on the island, but none of them prepared her for how stunning it was when you were standing looking down at it. From their position on a narrow viewing platform, which Aidan cheerily informed her was ‘at least one hundred metres' above the sea below, the shipwreck itself looked small enough to pick up. It sat half-buried in a bay of clean white sand, which was surrounded by a semicircle of sheer limestone cliffs. The brilliant bright-blue water lapping up against the shoreline was dotted with tiny boats and even tinier people.

‘Is there any way down?' she asked Aidan. He was standing close enough behind her that she could feel the soft warmth of his breath on the back of her neck, and despite the heat of the late morning, the hair on her arms was standing fully to attention.

‘Not from here.' He shook his head. ‘You can only get on to the beach by boat, and even then it's only really possible on a day when the sea is calm. As you can see, everyone is taking advantage of that fact today.'

‘It's stunning,' Holly breathed. ‘The water doesn't even look real – it's as if someone's poured turquoise paint over the side of one of those boats.'

‘My mum used to say the same thing,' Aidan smiled. ‘She painted up here, of course. It was her who first brought me to this very spot.'

Picnics with his ex-girlfriend, painting trips with his mum – Aidan clearly had a lot of memories associated with this place. And now she did too, thanks to him. Well, she corrected herself, it was actually more to do with Jenny and Sandra. They'd marked this place on their own map, after all. Sandra must have meant for her to spot it and find her way up here. Knowing that she was staring down at a view that her mum must have gazed at made Holly's eyes suddenly fill up with tears. The fact that it was so beautiful here only seemed to make the whole situation more tragic. She wished she'd been able to come here with Jenny, perhaps on one of the adventures that her mum had always promised her they would go on together. She was very glad that she'd come here today, but she was also overwhelmed with a pang of loneliness. She wondered if Aidan, who had fallen silent behind her as he too gazed down at the spellbinding vista below, was thinking the same thing.

Without fully realising what she was doing, Holly leaned back a fraction so that the back of her head was resting against his chest. She needed the comfort from him as much as she could sense he craved it from her, and for a few minutes they stood without moving. Holly could just about make out the sound of the distant sea and a light murmur of chatter filtering over from the car park.
She could have happily stayed there all day, but before long another group of sweaty-looking tourists filed over, and Aidan slowly led her away.

Phelan, who had been waiting patiently in a nearby patch of shade, greeted them with a shower of drool and promptly rolled over on to his back so that Holly could tickle his belly.

‘I think you've made a friend there,' Aidan laughed, borrowing Holly's phone to take a photo. He had slipped back into his easy, jokey manner, their shared moment on the platform now seemingly forgotten, and Holly was grateful to him. There was a feeling starting to bubble in the pit of her own belly that she definitely didn't feel ready to deal with. If only she could roll over on to her back like Phelan and get someone to rub it away.

After leaving Navagio, Aidan drove Holly east across the island to an area called Mikro Nissi. The tiny coastal village boasted a beautiful pebbled beach and a handful of bars, all of which looked out across the water. Jenny and Sandra had illustrated this particular area with a series of wonky drawings of what looked like pints of beer, alongside some very unseaworthy-looking boats.

Holly, who was dusty from the long drive and keen to put a bit of safe distance between herself and Aidan, took her towel straight across the stones and made her way into the clear, calm water. Phelan sat guarding her bag, while Aidan crossed the pebbles and started chatting to a man who was unravelling a mess of fishing nets by the shore. His boat, Holly could see, was called
Maria
.

She felt like she was beginning to understand Sandra
more with every hour that she spent on this island, but this was only serving to make her more upset about the fact that they'd never met. It had crossed her mind to ask Aidan if he knew what had caused the rift between Sandra and her mum, but surely he would have told her already if he did? He'd shown himself to be pretty direct up until now, so she didn't think he'd be the sort to keep anything hidden.

It had shaken her up to hear him talk about his difficult relationship with his mum so openly. In a way she was envious that he could be so matter-of-fact about it all, but in another way that level of openness frightened her. She'd spent so many years hiding behind the alternative past she'd created for herself that to pull those walls down now seemed like the most unnatural – not to mention downright terrifying – idea in the world. Despite this, though, she had found herself on the verge of telling Aidan how she felt about her mother several times already. What was it about him that made her so keen to share?
And it wouldn't be very fair on Rupert if you did
, whispered a voice inside her. Surely he should be the one she opened up to, but would she ever be able to be honest with him about who she really was? As she pondered this, Holly stared down at her toes beneath the water. A tiny fish had swum over to investigate and was now nibbling at the hard skin on her heel. People would pay a fortune for a fish pedicure in London, she thought. And here I am, in this beautiful, tranquil place, getting one absolutely free.

She distracted herself by looking at all the little boats bobbing gently in the harbour next to the beach. They were a mixture of shapes, sizes, colours and stages of
disrepair, and Holly wondered if her mum and Sandra had ever been out on one. There had to be a reason why they'd drawn boats all over this part of the map. Perhaps Aidan knew someone who could take them out on the water. Holly had never been on a boat before, not a proper one, anyway. She was pretty sure that the punting trip she and Rupert had taken down the river on a day trip to Cambridge didn't count – it certainly wasn't as exciting as being out on the ocean.

Rolling over on to her stomach in the shallows, she watched Phelan pad over to where the nearest fishing boat was providing an arc of shade. Aidan was still chatting to the fisherman, who had his back to Holly, but every so often the two men would glance over in her direction. The man was bearded and looked faintly familiar, but that was probably just because every Greek man of a certain age seemed to have the same facial hair. This man had a tatty bum bag strapped around his waist and was wearing a shirt that had definitely seen better days. Fashion certainly wasn't something the folk here seemed to worry about much, Holly thought, and, despite her job at Flash, she kind of admired it. Other things were presumably more important over here, such as work and family and simply enjoying life. And it would be hard not to enjoy life here, after all.

‘Holly!'

It was Aidan. She looked up and watched as he made his way down the beach, guiltily aware that she was enjoying the way the light breeze was making his T-shirt ripple across his chest. He picked up her towel and held it up politely as she stumbled out across the stones. It was
impossible to look ladylike when your feet were being bruised with every step.

‘Ready for a cold beer yet?' he asked, not bothering to avert his eyes at all as she started to dry herself.

‘Yes, please,' she said, thinking again of the scribbled pint glasses on the map. She smiled at him, squinting slightly as the sun slipped out from behind his ear.

Taking her hand as if it was the most natural thing in the world, Aidan led her up the beach and straight across the road into a bar. Holly had put her cropped jeans and vest back on, but her wet bikini had left a big stain on her bottom and on the front of each boob.

‘Just take it off?' suggested Aidan, eyeing her chest with a knowing look that could only be described as decidedly suggestive. There it was again, that electricity fizzing between them. Holly slapped his arm in mock outrage. The sun had dried the salt water on her face and she could feel her skin tightening as she sipped her Mythos. She'd slipped off her shoes so that her bare feet could dangle down from the bar stools where they sat. She felt clean and free and delicious.

‘Are you really going to sell the house?'

Aidan had failed to keep the pleading tone from his voice and Holly let out a deep sigh before she replied.

‘I think it's for the best,' she said, refusing to meet his eyes. ‘I feel weird having it at all, to be honest. Like I said to you before, I never even met Sandra.'

‘But she clearly wanted
you
to have it,' he insisted. ‘And she
was
your auntie, regardless of whether you met her or not.'

He was right, of course, but before she came out here
Holly had made a promise to herself – and to Rupert – that she would pack the house up and sell it. She had spent her whole life trying to move forward, and being here felt a bit like she was being dragged back into the past by the ankles. At this stage, she still wasn't sure whether to grab hold of something sturdy until whatever it was went away, or whether to just let herself be taken.

‘It's complicated,' she said, trying to convey in two words all the things she couldn't explain. ‘My life is in London – I don't need a house in Greece.'

‘That's the maddest thing I've ever heard!' Aidan actually slapped his thigh. ‘Anyone else in the world would be overjoyed to be given a house in a place like this.'