The Butterfly Storm (28 page)

‘Not that kind of commitment. Commitment to our future, the physical things in our life, the
practicalities. I was hoping we could move on.’

‘We can.’

I shake my head. ‘Your mother’s with you. That’s not us moving on.’ I begin to walk away. ‘I have
to phone Mum.’

It rings for ages. Alekos stands by the luggage and fiddles with the address label.

Mum answers: ‘He arrived safely?’

‘Yes. And his Mum. Despina turned up too.’

There’s silence. ‘Oh.’

‘I’ll sort everything out when we get back. Despina can have my room and me and Alekos can sleep
downstairs.’

‘There’s a camp bed in the attic,’ she says calmly.

‘Great. Perfect.’

‘You sound pissed off.’

‘I am.’

‘I hope she likes roast beef and Yorkshires.’

‘I’m so sorry. If I’d known she was coming… This is the last thing you need.’

‘I should have learnt more Greek.’

‘We’ll be home before eight.’

‘Drive carefully.’

Alekos’ watchful eyes make me feel exposed. Does he know something’s changed? Do I look
different?

‘I didn’t bring her,’ he says when I rejoin him. ‘She told me she was coming.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘I was going to but I thought you wouldn’t want me to come at all if you knew.’

I’m silenced by Despina emerging from the ladies with her coat still done up to her chin. Red
lipstick has been freshly applied to her lips.

‘I bought your mother silver earrings from Lena’s friends’ shop in Katerini.’ Despina says. ‘Alekos
said…’

‘I said I didn’t know, Mama.’

‘He thought she had her ears pierced.’

‘She does,’ I say. ‘But you didn’t have to buy her anything.’

She looks at me sternly. ‘Of course I did.’ She starts dragging her suitcase and I pick up her bag of
duty free.

It’s a trek out of Terminal 2. It’s difficult to hold a conversation on the move but Despina insists on
firing questions at the back of my head as we walk single file along corridors and up escalators. She
shivers the moment we step out of the warmth of arrivals and into the car park. She pulls on her
fur-lined leather gloves.

‘It’s only the end of September, not winter,’ I say.

‘I remember how pale you were, Sophie, when you first arrived. Don’t tell me it’s not cold in
England.’

‘It’s very built-up,’ Despina says as we start our journey north towards the M25. ‘Very dull and grey. Not
at all like the images of London shown on the television.’

‘That’s because we’re not actually in London,’ I say. ‘We’re on the outskirts. It’s like us driving
from your cousin’s house on the edge of Thessaloniki to
O Kipos
.’

Despina reaches into her handbag for a nail file and begins to tidy up her nails rather than look out
of the window.

I keep glancing at her in my rear-view mirror. ‘How on earth is the restaurant running without
you?’

‘I’ve employed a new chef,’ she says, without looking up from her nails.

‘You have?’

‘He’s a young chef with glowing references from an award-winning restaurant in Athens. I need
reliability.’

‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning I need reliability.’

Alekos remains quiet in the passenger seat next to me and doesn’t catch my eye.

‘I’m sorry if I left so suddenly and made things difficult for you but Mum was pretty badly injured,
I needed to be here. I still need to be here.’

‘There’s no need to apologise, Sophie, I’m glad you put family first for once, just as I felt it was my
duty to put my family first, which is why I’m here. We must all make sacrifices.’

Alekos sinks further into the passenger seat and I bite my tongue. Despina finishes filing
her nails and takes a bottle of red nail varnish out of her handbag. ‘The only problem I
envisage is leaving Takis in charge. He’s too soft. Goodness knows what mess we’ll go back
to.’

Fields, motorway junctions and roadworks all pass in a blur, as do signposts for Watford, St Albans,
the A1 and eventually the M11. Despina finishes painting her fingernails and starts looking out of the
window. Ninety minutes into the journey, dual carriageway merges into fast, straight roads and we pass
the wooded picnic site at Mildenhall and Lakenheath army base. This journey is new to me, yet it feels
like I’m going home. Despina is silent and watchful in the back, her face turned to the window. I can
see her profile, high cheekbones and a long, straight nose. Her best assets are highlighted with blusher
and lipstick. She’s still wearing her coat but her gloves and scarf are neatly laid on the seat next to
her.

Alekos remains silent as we crawl through Swaffham’s bustling town centre. I turn the radio on
low and Alekos glances at me before settling his gaze back to the window. He has defined
cheekbones too, but his features are softer, like Takis’. Yet he’s as handsome as Despina is
beautiful.

‘I’ve not been outside of Greece since our one and only holiday abroad in Italy before
we had children.’ Despina breaks the silence. ‘Did you used to go on holiday with your
mother?’

‘We went camping every summer to Yorkshire or Wales. We never went abroad. We attempted to go
to Scotland once but our car broke down so we only made it as far as Northumberland and we had to
be rescued by a friendly AA man.’

‘Camping, as in a tent?’

‘Mama, what’s wrong with that?’

‘I loved it,’ I say. ‘Spending time with Mum, warming our hands over the gas stove, eating fish and
chips out of newspaper, walking arm in arm to the toilet block at night, guided by torchlight. What’s
not to like?’

‘But it rains here all the time. I couldn’t think of anything worse.’

‘It’s not raining now,’ Alekos says.

My legs are aching and I can’t stop yawning. I turn off the main road and head down a lane that cuts
through fields on either side. I scare a pheasant and it dashes into the hedge in a flurry of red and
brown feathers.

‘Nearly there,’ I say.

We drive through a wood and the lane narrows. The trees on either side are so close together their
branches interlock and prevent the sun from penetrating. The flint-clad cottages are a familiar sight
now and they look cosy with the odd window lit up as we pass. As I drive up the incline to Marshton, I
realise how Robert must have felt driving me here, knowing I was about to get my first look at his
village. I hold my breath until
The Globe
comes into view, with the lamps on in the windows. I
can’t see Robert’s car. I wonder if Ben kept his promise and took Fraser and Bella to the
beach.

‘
Po, po
!’ Despina exclaims as we pull up outside
Salt Cottage
. ‘I never imagined… you always talked
about living in a city.’ She slams the car door and startles wood pigeons in the trees. It’s
perfect timing; the retreating sun spreads orange and marshmallow pink across the horizon.
The front garden is ablaze with colour, the grass and trees a richer green than anything in
Greece, the flowers a vivid yellow, red and white. Alekos points to the sky and we look up. A
dozen or so ducks, black against the sky, flap across in arrow formation, quacking as they fly
over.

The front door scrapes open and Mum appears on the step supported by her crutches. She’s smiling.
This is my homecoming, how I wished it had been three weeks ago.

‘
Yasas
!’ she calls.

Despina claps in delight. ‘You speak Greek?’

‘No, only one word,’ Mum says, beckoning us inside.

She’s been busy while I’ve been away. In the hallway she’s placed a vase of pale pink roses from the
garden and the lamp on the sideboard is switched on giving a welcoming glow. But it’s the smell of
roasting beef that entices. The kitchen door is open and the sound of cooking filters into the
hallway.

‘Mum, this is Alekos.’ I shrug off my coat and take Despina’s. We head into the kitchen.

‘I’d love to say Sophie’s told me all about you but I’d be lying,’ Mum says. She firmly shakes his
hand and looks him up and down. ‘Better late than never.’

‘It’s very good to finally meet you,’ Alekos says in English.

‘And this is Despina.’ Despina launches forward and kisses Mum on both cheeks. Her hands fly
everywhere as she tells Mum, in Greek, of the shock the family felt when they heard about the
accident. Alekos translates. Mum nods and allows Despina to clutch her hand as if they’re long-lost
friends rather than strangers.

‘Sophie,’ Mum says. ‘Sophie.’ All three of them are looking at me. ‘Dinner’s nearly ready, so if you
want to show Despina to her room and get the camp bed down…’

‘
Pame pano
,’ I say to Despina and Alekos and they follow me out of the kitchen.

‘Alekos, you’re tall enough to open the trapdoor to the attic,’ Mum calls after us. ‘Top
landing.’

It seems so long ago that I was exploring this house on my own. Now it feels crowded. Despina’s and
Alekos’ feet hit every creaky spot on the stairs. I push open my bedroom door. Her bedroom now.
There’s no sense in calling it my bedroom, after all it’s only Mum’s spare room. My wash bag sits on
top of the chest of drawers and my clothes are still hanging in the wardrobe, although I’ve cleared them
off the back of the chair.

‘Sophie, I can’t take your room,’ Despina says.

‘You must.’ Although I really mean, ‘You should have thought about that before coming
unannounced.’ She has no clue about the commotion she’s caused, or if she does she hides it well. Or
doesn’t give a shit. I notice Mum’s taken the tasteful nude off the wall and replaced it with one of Ben’s
black-and-white bird photographs. I leave Despina to unpack.

I rejoin Alekos on the landing. He’s already opened the hatch to the attic and pulled the stepladder
down.

‘Your Mum’s great,’ he says.

‘I never said she wasn’t.’ I step on to the ladder.

He grabs my hand. ‘I’ll get it.’

I continue up the steps. ‘I’ll pass it down.’

I reach the top, crawl into the attic space and feel around for a light switch. I find it and squint
when the naked bulb flickers into life. It’s dusty up here and uncomfortable on my knees. Thick
beams, so low I have to crawl under them, cut across the attic. Mum’s packed the space
with individually marked boxes:
Christmas Decorations
,
Hazel Road Curtains
,
Sophie’s
Stuff
. It’s the box I dumped on her before I left for Greece. I’m tempted to open it – it’s
like a time capsule, a reminder of my past. But I don’t. The dust is tickling my nose. I
sneeze.

‘Can’t you find it?’ Alekos says poking his head through the hole.

I have. It’s just behind the Christmas box, wrapped in a plastic cover. Between the two of us we
drag it out of the attic, down the stairs and into the living room. It’s only a single bed and
old, the mattress thin. Mum’s already laid out sheets, pillows and two duvets on the coffee
table.

‘I’ll take the sofa if you want the camp bed,’ I say.

‘There’s room for two.’

‘Yeah, if we don’t want to have any sleep.’

‘That’s what I’m hoping.’

‘I was too.’ I chuck him a single sheet.

It’s a surreal sight seeing Despina sitting in the kitchen with Mum. The food she’s brought is spread across
the table amongst dishes and plates of roast potatoes, carrots, swede, cabbage and a juicy beef joint on
a carving dish.

‘This,’ Despina says, handing Mum a slice of pie, ‘
spanakopita
… cheese and…’ she turns to me. ‘
Pos
lene spanaki
?’

‘Spinach,’ I say.

Mum takes a bite. ‘My God that’s good.’

Despina beams.

‘They’re my favourite,’ I say.

I watch Despina carefully. She cuts a tiny square of Yorkshire pudding, pops it into her mouth and
chews. Her expression doesn’t change.

‘You don’t have to eat it,’ I say in Greek. Mum looks at me, questioning.

‘Is very good,’ Despina says with a smile. I don’t believe her but at least she’s making an effort. She
doesn’t have seconds.

Mum and Despina go to bed early, leaving Alekos and me alone in the sitting room. I’ve already made
myself comfortable on the sofa with a duvet and pillows. Alekos is sitting at the end, squashed against
my feet, his hand resting on my legs. I want to erase everything that’s happened and just live in this
moment. He switches off the TV.

‘Do you want to talk?’ he asks.

‘I think enough’s been said already.’

‘Are you still angry with me?’

I shake my head. ‘Not angry, disappointed.’ I turn on my side so I’m facing away from him and tuck
my hand beneath the pillow. I close my eyes and try to ignore him but I sense him watching me. His
hand strokes my leg, creeping higher until he’s massaging my thigh. I can’t sleep but I pretend to. I’m
not sure how long he stays up watching me because eventually I drift off, his advances
ignored.

‘Sophie? Are you awake?’ The camp bed squeaks as Alekos shifts and sits up. He’s a solid black
shape in the grainy darkness. His warm hands slide beneath my vest top and across my
breasts. I freeze as his hand moves towards my stomach. I keep my eyes closed and stay very
still.

‘I know you’re awake,’ he says. His fingers tickle my side and I squirm away. ‘Happy
Birthday.’

‘It’s early,’ I say.

He switches the lamp on and scrabbles around in his bag. ‘I’ve got a proper present to give you
later,’ he says, ‘but I thought you might want this back.’

I wriggle into a sitting position and rub my eyes. Alekos kneels next to the sofa and unclasps his
hand to reveal my engagement ring. ‘I know I said all the wrong things on Santorini…’ he
says.

‘Aleko, no.’

‘I want to make you happy, Sophie.’

‘I took the ring off for a reason, Aleko. Why you think giving it back to me now is a good idea is
beyond me. Your mother’s here. Have you not listened to anything I’ve been telling you over the last
few weeks? Us getting married is not the problem.’