The Butterfly Storm (25 page)

‘Are you all right?’ Mum asks the next day at breakfast. I haven’t said a word since I got
up.

‘I’ve got a headache. Do you mind if I go for a walk?’

‘Do what you like.’

I scrape my chair back and clear away my plate. I’m halfway out of the kitchen door when Mum
says, ‘It’s cold out.’

I close the door behind me. She sounds just like Despina, making sure I’m wrapped
up the very second a cloud shades the sun. Mothering instinct. I wonder if I’ll end up the
same.

I take her advice though and layer a couple of tops underneath my denim jacket, put thick socks on
with my boots and borrow one of her scarves. The wind curls itself around me the moment I
leave the cottage. Leaves are falling heavily now, carpeting the grass a mottled brown and
yellow.

I head down the muddy lane, away from the road. I don’t have to walk far before the occasional
swish of a car going past the cottage disappears altogether. The footpath sign at the end of
the lane points over a stile and across a ploughed field. The soil is sandy and soft and I
leave deep footprints as I walk the length of the field up towards the wood at the furthest
end.

I’ve longed for this, away from the heat and intensity of home. The scent of autumn hangs in the air
with the freshness of damp soil and the promise of rain. The chilly fingers of dawn, dissolved to dew
with the sun, cling to each blade of grass. The wood is dark and cool, the soil underfoot turns to damp
leaves and with each step I add the sound of snapping twigs to the birds calling and the sigh of
the wind in the trees. It’s a tranquillity I’m not used to, either as a child growing up in a
city or as a woman living in a country where everyone knows your business and the only
quiet time is the siesta, and that’s only because everyone else is asleep too. Here, peace
surrounds me: it’s everywhere, in the cool breeze, the diluted sunlight – isn’t it the very
nature of the British to keep themselves to themselves. Mum doesn’t pry, doesn’t question.
Not so in Greece, however laid back they are, they want to know what I’m up to, where
I’m going, what I’m thinking: Alekos, Despina, Lena, aunts, uncles, grandparents, even
Takis.

Through the trees the sun makes dappled patterns on the damp ground. Beneath my feet baby crab
apples lie discarded like unloved toys, befriended by fawn mushrooms poking through the moss. I’m
alone, unwatched, un-judged. Only my footprints give me away, imprinting the ground with my private
pathway.

I emerge the other side of the wood and find myself at the bottom of Marshton Downs.
I follow a rough path through stinging nettles and ferns and climb to the top. I can see
across to Cley and the windmill, gleaming white in the morning sunshine. Beyond, a strip
of dark blue sea meets the pale blue sky. Marshton village dots the landscape, snuggled
between fields and trees. There’s no one for miles. I’m all alone but desperate to talk to
someone.

She’s my oldest and best friend, and after telling Lee she was pregnant she told me.
Well she can be my first. The Downs is full of sandy hollows in-between the gorse bushes. I
find a sheltered one and sit down. It’s a naturally formed seat and I rest my legs in the
dip.

There’s reception up here. I call Candy’s mobile. Please, please, please answer…

‘Hey Sophie, how are things going with your Mum?’

‘Can you talk?’

‘Yep, they’re not filming at the moment,’ she says. ‘God, you sound like you’re up a
mountain.’

‘I’m outside. It’s just windy.’

‘What’s up?’

Time slows. A seagull glides on the wind, pale grey against the rich brown of the ploughed field
below. A lone butterfly settles on the ground next to me, its red and black wings beaten by the wind
and then it’s off. An orange ladybird crawls across my knee; I watch it begin its journey down my leg.
All in a heartbeat.

I take a deep breath. ‘I’m pregnant.’

There’s absolute silence from Candy. The wind whistles around me. The seagull doesn’t falter, the
butterfly keeps fluttering and the ladybird reaches my trainers, orange against the white. The world
keeps turning, same as before. It’s only me that’s changing.

‘I saw you, less than two weeks ago,’ she says.

‘I know.’

‘You had no idea?’

‘None,’ I say. ‘I didn’t want this. I’m not ready.’

She pauses. ‘Alekos must be thrilled.’

The soil is so soft and pale like a sand dune. I want to roll down into the smooth hollow at the
bottom. I dig my feet into the soil instead. ‘I haven’t told him.’

‘I can’t hear you, you’re breaking up.’

‘I haven’t told him,’ I say again.

‘Sophie, you’ve got to.’

‘Jesus Candy, I can’t have a baby and still be living with his parents. They smother me enough as it
is. This has to happen on my own terms.’

‘What are you going to do?’

‘I haven’t thought that far ahead,’ I say. ‘What would you do?’

‘That’s a pointless question. I’ve been in your position, but I wanted it. We wanted it. It was
planned, I was ecstatic. We both were.’

‘I know, I know.’

‘You didn’t have a clue?’

‘No. I’m on the pill,’ I say. ‘How the fuck could this happen?’ I whack my free hand on the ground.
It smarts and I bring my hand up stuck with soil and twigs.

‘Did you forget to take it?’

‘No.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘I was the one who decided to go back on it. I didn’t want a baby. It didn’t feel right.’

‘When was your last period?’ The line fades, she sounds distant.

‘A while ago. I skipped one,’ I say loudly, hoping she can hear me.

‘Well if that’s the case it’s meant to be. It’s fate. Did you take a pill late?’ she suggests. ‘Were you
sick after taking it?’

The realisation of her words smacks me in the gut.

‘Candy – what have I done?’

‘I take it your Mum doesn’t know.’

‘No.’

‘Are you going to tell her?’

I laugh. ‘Telling her she’s going to be a grandmother – can you imagine?’

‘When are you going back to Greece?’

My ladybird friend is working its way towards the undergrowth. The day is undisturbed by voices,
only the violent gusts of wind. The air is fresh and cool. I rest on my elbow and gaze up at the watery
blue sky marked only by the tell-tale signs of a plane’s trail. ‘I’m not sure I want to go back,’ I say. ‘I
feel at home here.’

‘Is that because it seems like the easiest option?’

‘No Candy, there is no easy option. I just love being here. There are quiet places, the
countryside is stunning. I feel inspired by the people here, Mum included. She’s made something
of herself. I feel like I moved to Greece but didn’t move on from who I was when I first
arrived.’

‘Sophie, you have to talk to him,’ she says. ‘Whatever you decide is going to affect the rest of your
life. And his.’

‘He’s coming over for my birthday,’ I say. ‘He probably thinks I’ll go back with him.’

‘You should. Don’t throw what you’ve got away.’

It’s chilly sitting on the ground. I stand and stretch my legs.

‘I’ve got to go,’ Candy says. ‘I’m needed on set. I’ll give you a call later. It’s been hectic going back
to work and spending time with the kids in the evenings.’

‘I understand. I’ve been busy here too. The days are running away from me.’

‘Time flies when you’re having fun…’

‘I wish that was the least of my problems.’

‘Call me, any time.’

‘Thanks, Candy.’

‘And talk to him,’ she says before hanging up.

A dog barks and I am no longer alone as a Spaniel bounds through the gorse bushes
towards me. Its owner, an elderly lady with a scarf tied around her head, a padded riding
jacket, grey trousers and sturdy boots, swiftly follows behind. The dog’s wet nose nudges my
hand.

‘Lovely morning isn’t it,’ the lady says, nodding a greeting, before she heads off to the
wood.

I’ve so little time to think things through. What am I waiting for? I strike up a fast pace along the
Downs and head for home.

It’s nearly lunchtime when I get back from the Downs. I will time to slow down. I don’t want to face
Alekos tomorrow. It’s too soon. But time refuses to slow. I hover in the kitchen, unsure what to do
next. The sun is straining through thick, white cloud. Mum’s in the garden, feeding the birds. The
leaves on the trees are turning from green to yellow. A sycamore has red-tinged leaves already. I wave
when Mum sees me but go upstairs before she comes in and has a chance to talk to me. In the airing
cupboard Mum’s laid out a clean bedspread, pillows and a sheet, ready for Alekos. I make the bed and
hang up the clothes that are slung over the back of the armchair. Mum fusses around: wiping and
re-wiping the kitchen surfaces. She makes me vacuum the living room carpet and furniture while
she brings flowers in from the garden and arranges them in a vase, before baking a tray of
flapjacks and chocolate brownies. All of this from a mother who used to be more interested in
painting her toenails bubblegum pink and having a sneaky spliff with her twenty-year-old
lover.

I move through the day as if it’s a dream. Everything’s vivid and real around me: the smell of coffee,
the dampness of the soil, but I’m an onlooker, not quite involved. Mum asks me questions: ‘Are you
going to be okay driving all that way? What does Alekos like to eat? Does he drink beer? Does he
speak much English?’

By the time she leaves the room I’ve forgotten what my answer was. ‘Yes. Everything. Sometimes.
Lots.’

I forget Mum wants help delivering flowers to a client and I’m in the bathroom again at the time we
arranged to leave.

‘Sophie?’ And again. ‘Sophie? What are you doing?’ Mum shouts up the stairs.

I flush the toilet, go to the sink and splash my mouth with water.

‘I need to get these flowers to Mrs Viner by five,’ she calls.

‘I’m coming!’ I brush my teeth again to get rid of the bitter aftertaste.

This morning’s walk cleared my head yet now it feels filled with smog. I touch my stomach, unsure
whether it feels different. I remember having a conversation with a girl at school who couldn’t
understand why I didn’t want to have children. I was adamant. But as for my reasons why… Maybe I
was battling against what was expected, what everyone else seemed to want to do. I didn’t want to get
knocked up or married. I liked the name Keech.

Mum’s waiting at the bottom of the stairs, her good foot tapping against the floorboards. A sharp
breeze rushes through the open door.

‘Mrs V’s a bitch for being on time,’ Mum says with an edge to her voice. ‘Not the calmest of
women.’

‘I’m sorry.’ I follow her out, picking up the flower arrangements on the way. ‘Where does she live?’ I
ask as I start the engine and pull out on to the lane.

‘Only in the next village. Turn right at the end.’

We pass
The Globe
and head down a narrow lane by the church.

‘You’ve seemed a bit out of sorts these past couple of days. Are you alright?’ Mum
asks.

‘I’m fine,’ I reply.

‘Are you missing Greece?’

I shrug. ‘Not so much.’ I keep my attention on the road but sense Mum watching me.

‘At least you’ll see Alekos tomorrow,’ she says. ‘I can’t wait to meet him.’

‘Really?’

‘I’m intrigued. I’ve never got to know any of your boyfriends.’

‘There haven’t been that many.’

‘You’re choosey, that’s why.’

‘Surely that’s a good thing?’

‘God, yes,’ she says. ‘Think of my track record. Bloody nutters.’

‘Good-looking nutters though.’

‘Not all of them. You wake up the next morning with a hangover, and Brad Pitt’s turned into, well
someone who doesn’t resemble Brad Pitt in the slightest. Daylight’s cruel. Pull over here, Soph,’ she
says.

I do as I’m told and stop on a grass verge next to a closed five-barred gate. Mum leads the way up
the path and I follow behind with the flowers. Mum rings the doorbell. A dog barks. I hear
muffled voices. The door opens and an elderly lady with glasses around her neck smiles at
us.

‘I thought you were never coming,’ Mrs Viner says. She takes the flowers from me. ‘They’re
wonderful, Leila.’

‘I’ll wait outside,’ I say and leave them to it. I wander back down the path to the secluded lane and
perch on the warm car bonnet. Whenever I think of the baby, my thoughts race to Alekos and then Ben
filters in. The thought of him makes me feel dirty. I’m dragged down by the weight of this baby I
haven’t asked for. But maybe I can turn it into a positive mistake. A baby is what Alekos wants. We
can’t stay at
O Kipos
now; the apartment above the restaurant is too small for all of us and a baby. I
know Despina will dispute that. Takis will just nod and Alekos shrug. There has to be a compromise
now.

My mobile rings. I hesitate when I see Alekos’ face flashing on the screen. I take a deep breath and
answer.

‘Hello.’ It sounds forced, too enthusiastic. I’m conscious my voice will give me away.

‘I’m so glad I got hold of you,’ he says. ‘I’ve found a direct flight tomorrow. It arrives in Heathrow
at 2.30 in the afternoon.’

‘That’s fine. I’m cooking at the pub tonight so I’m glad it’s not early. It’s a good three-hour drive
from Mum’s.’

‘How are things going?’

‘Better. We’ve talked a bit.’

‘I’m nervous about meeting her.’

‘Why?’

‘You’ve made her sound like a monster.’

‘I’ve been angry with her for years. I’ve said lots of unfair things.’

‘So I’ve nothing to worry about?’

‘She’s looking forward to meeting you,’ I say. ‘You coming over here is no worse than me moving to
Greece and meeting the whole of your family.’

‘You didn’t seem nervous.’

‘I hid it well.’

‘You hide lots of things well.’

Two hearts skip a beat.

‘Like what?’ I say.

‘Everything. The last few months I’ve no idea what’s going on in your head. When you handed the
ring back I didn’t know what to think. I don’t want you unhappy.’