The Accidental Life of Greg Millar (19 page)

21.

A
rriving back at the villa from settling Grace and the boys into the apartment, I walk in on a phone call.

‘You have to stop ringing here, Hilary,’ Greg says, the back of his head visible over the top of the chair.

I can’t move.

‘No,’ he says. ‘That’s impossible. No. This is for the best . . . There’s nothing here for you . . . I’m sorry. I love Lucy. You need to start a new life, for your own sake. I’m sorry about what happened. Really, I am . . . But there’s no future for you here.’

Why did he have to say he loves me? What happened?

I reverse out of there.

On the terrace, I try to think. Then, I get a call myself.

‘Lucy, hi. It’s Hilary.’

‘Hello, Hilary.’ My voice is cold, flat.

‘I was just wondering . . . You know when I left and you offered me my job back?’

I say nothing.

‘Well, I’d like to take it.’

‘I’d have to talk to Greg about that.’

‘Why? Why would you need to talk to Greg?’

‘Because Rachel and Toby are his children.’
Obviously.

‘Oh, forget it.’ She hangs up.

I wait until evening, when the children are in bed. We’re out on the terrace, smoke from Greg’s cigar floating on the balmy air. Down in the bay, the sea is flat and glassy. Lights along the coast look warm and cheerful.

‘Hilary rang me today,’ I say, interrupting the peace.

‘What did she want?’ he asks, his casual tone sounding fake. He starts to roll his cigar between his fingers.

‘Her job back.’

‘What did you say?’

‘That I’d have to check with you.’

‘Good.’ There’s relief in his voice.

‘What’s going on, Greg? Why’s she so anxious for her job back?’

He reaches for his bottle of Kronenbourg. ‘I don’t know. I guess she’s very attached to the family.’

‘The family? Or you?’

‘The family,’ he says firmly, but, instead of meeting my eyes, he rubs condensation from the beer bottle. ‘She’s been looking after Rachel and Toby for so long. And you know her history; you know she can never have kids of her own.’

‘Then, why did you fire her? And why won’t you take her back?’

‘She needs a life away from us. For her own sake.’

‘I know that. But why are you suddenly so adamant about it? There was no need to fire her. Couldn’t she have just lived out?’

‘She needed a clean break.’

‘Did something happen between you?’

‘No.’ He stubs out the cigar.

‘She’s in love with you, isn’t she?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ He stands suddenly, his back to me.

‘Am I? Am I being ridiculous? Or are you hiding something?’

He walks away, hand on the back of his neck. Then he stops, turns. And finally meets my eyes. ‘OK. All right. Maybe she does have . . . feelings for me. What can I do about it? Nothing, except keep her away.’

‘Is that what all this is about?’

He doesn’t blink when he says, ‘Yes.’

‘So, something
did
happen the other night, the night you fire
d her?’

He nods slowly.

‘What?’

He sits back down, takes a moment. ‘She came on to me . . .’

‘Jesus.’

‘Nothing happened, Lucy, I promise you that.’

‘Then, why didn’t you tell me?’

‘I just wanted to get rid of the problem. Deal with it. Fast.
I thou
ght that if she wasn’t around, that would be the end of it.’

‘But it’s not, is it?’

‘She’ll get tired of ringing.’

Silence falls between us. I look out at the pine trees, silhouetted black against a colourless sky. That’s when I tell him.

‘She told me you were seeing other women when you started disappearing.’

His head swivels in my direction. ‘
What?
’

‘She said it happens every time you get bored with the
person
you’re with. You take off and bingo! There’s another woman on th
e scene.’

He looks stunned. ‘She’s making it up. She wasn’t even around when I was married to Catherine. And there’s been no one since . . .’

‘Except Hilary.’

He looks hurt. ‘I told you about that. I explained.’

‘I know,’ I concede.

‘I can’t believe she said that. You didn’t
believe
her, did you?’

‘No, Greg. I didn’t. But then you kept disappearing, no explanation. And I kept remembering that time at the restaurant when you were flirting with those women. And I didn’t know what to believe . . .’

‘What women?’

‘Those “ravishing” English women.’

‘Jesus, I don’t even remember their names. I was out for the night, in good form. I wasn’t flirting.’

I’m quiet.

‘Lucy, you know I’d never cheat. Not on you. Or on Catherine. Why didn’t you talk to me about this?’

‘You haven’t exactly been the easiest person to talk to.’

He looks away. Quietly, he asks himself, ‘What the fuck was I up to?’ He leans forward, placing his elbows on his legs and his hands in prayer position in front of his mouth. He stays like that for a long time. Then he turns to me.

‘I’m sorry, Lucy. For everything. For being so hyper, always on the go, for taking off and not being here for you.’ He stops, looks up, straight into my eyes. ‘But I have never been unfaithful to you. Not once.’ His eyes look sad that I might have doubted that.

The pressure of the last few weeks suddenly hits. My throat burns, my eyes fill. ‘She told Toby that we were going to split up.’ The first tear falls. ‘She said you both laughed together about me wanting her to talk to Rachel.’

‘
What
?
’

I glare at him, anger erupting like a flare. ‘I asked you not to tell her, Greg. Why did you?’

He runs his fingers up and down his forehead. ‘All I did was ask her to have a word with Rachel. I thought I was doing you a favour. Of course I didn’t laugh at you. Why would I do that?’

I shrug. Then a sob hits.

‘Christ. This is a nightmare. I can’t believe Hilary said all those things.’

‘I’m not making this up.’

‘I know. I know you’re not. It’s just hard to take in, that she’s capable of this kind of manipulation. I’m just . . . I don’t know, I’m just stunned.’

‘Weren’t you stunned when she came on to you?’

He looks hurt by the knife in my voice. ‘Yes. Of course I was. But that was impulse. What you’re talking about is calculated manipulation and downright lies.’ He stops. Then, quieter, he says, ‘I trusted Hilary. I trusted her with my family. And I exposed you to her. I don’t know what to say, Luce, except that I’m so sorry.’

When Greg arrives down the following morning, he no longer has white hair. All that’s left is dark shadow. He makes two calls: the firs
t t
o his caretaker who he asks to come paint over the mural, th
e se
cond to the garage where he bought the Porsche. The salesman who sold it t
o hi
m will indeed have a look at the car with a view to taking it back.

The garage buys back the Porsche for a considerably lower price, rain having damaged the interior. The old, reliable Range Rover is returned, contents untouched as it was still waiting to be serviced. Never has a full boot seemed such a sane and normal thing.

On our return journey, Greg calls in at the jewellery shop where he bought the diamond earring and asks for the precious stone to be set into a pendant for ‘mademoiselle’.

That afternoon, Greg arranges to get air conditioning installed in the villa. It’s true, I realise, what they say about actions and words.

‘So?’ was Rachel’s reaction when I told her my sister and her kids were coming over. Toby wanted to know if they were bringing toys. Greg wondered why they weren’t staying at the villa. Now, I drive to the apartment to collect them for dinner. Grace comes to the door laden with the usual paraphernalia that goes with small children. I help her get everything, including the boys, into the car and
apologise
in advance for the meal – a basic pasta dish. She tells me it’s a treat not to have to cook. My nephews’ noisy exuberance makes me realise just how quiet Rachel and Toby have become. Shane marches up to them with presents – water guns almost larger than him. They look surprised.

‘Cool,’ says Toby, checking his out.

‘Thanks,’ says Rachel, squatting down to him and smiling. ‘How does it work?’

As Shane demonstrates, Rachel gives her dad ‘Isn’t he cute?’ looks. Grace asks her to help screw the portable baby seat onto the table. Rachel enjoys the challenge, and offers to put Jason in. She lifts him with such care, then makes sure to secure t
he straps.

We sit down to eat. Shane’s lively, innocent banter is a relief. Everything has been so tense here. So brittle.

Grace picks up pieces of penne that Jason has scattered over his tray and places them back on his plastic plate. ‘Food’s for eating, Sonny Jim.’

Shane finishes first. Grace reaches into a giant patchwork bag and pulls out crayons and paper. Everyone concentrates on the masterpiece. It’s such a relief to have someone other than Greg to focus on. I pick up a crayon that has fallen to the ground and put it back beside my busy nephew.

‘Like my picture, Rachel?’ he asks with the confidence of someone who knows she’s going to say yes.

‘Yeah, it’s brill,’ she says. ‘What is it?’

‘Poo,’ he says proudly.

She laughs.

‘A word of advice, Rachel,’ says Grace, smiling. ‘Never ask Shane what he’s drawing.’

‘I was thinking that,’ she says, and smiles at him.

After dinner, out by the pool, Rachel, Toby and Shane have a water fight, the boys teaming up against the only girl. Shane, though only three, is pretty handy with a weapon.

‘I will experminate you,’ he shouts, running after a laughing Rachel.

After the war, they cool down in the pool, Grace and I joining them with the baby, who is decked out in a sunproof costume that covers most of his body. Under his little hat is a smiley face. Jason loves the water. Rachel asks to play with him. And so, while the boys mess around together, she finds a shaded part of the pool and starts a game, pushing the baby away in his bright yellow float, then pulling him back towards her, talking in a high-pitched voice and making expressive faces. He is gurgling and chuckling.