The Olive Tree (15 page)

Helena saw Chloë had walked up from the pool, a tiny sarong wrapped round her hips, her skin already turning golden brown from the sun. ‘Hi guys, I’m Chloë.’

‘I know you are,’ said Sadie, walking towards her and kissing her on both cheeks. ‘I met you once when you were about six, but you probably don’t remember me.’

‘No,’ said Chloë. ‘Isn’t this place cool?’

‘It’s beautiful,’ agreed Sadie, looking appreciatively at the view.

‘And I’m Rupert, Jules and Sacha’s son. Hi, Chloë.’

Chloë looked at Rupes approvingly. ‘Hi. You seen the pool yet?’

‘No.’

‘Want me to show you?’

‘Sure. I’d love a dip.’

‘Then follow me.’

As the two of them sauntered off towards the pool, Sadie turned and raised her eyebrows at Helena, as Jules lugged one of her enormous suitcases onto the terrace. ‘Right, where do I put
this?’

Having shown Jules to her room, and Viola to the one she’d share with Rupes, Helena left her before she could lodge a complaint about anything that was not to her liking. Wandering along
the corridor to Sadie’s room, she found her kneeling up on the bed and staring out of the window.

‘The view is just glorious,’ she said, turning to Helena with a smile. ‘I wish I had a godfather who’d pop his clogs and leave me a house like this.’

‘I know. I’m very lucky to have it. Coming down for a drink and a chat?’ Helena lowered her voice. ‘I think Jules will be some time, given the size of that
suitcase.’

‘Wouldn’t be surprised if she hasn’t brought her own wallpaper and paste and redecorated the bedroom by dinner-time,’ Sadie sniggered. ‘She insisted on taking
charge of my passport at the airport,’ she added as they walked downstairs. ‘I felt like one of her kids.’

‘She likes to be in control, that’s all. Tea? Or something stronger?’ asked Helena as she led Sadie into the kitchen.

‘The sun is threatening to pass the yard-arm at any second, so definitely the latter.’

The two of them wandered out onto the terrace with a glass of wine each, and sat down. ‘God, I’m glad to be away. Thank you so much for providing this stunning port in my
storm.’ Sadie clinked her glass against Helena’s and took a sip of wine. ‘Where’s Alex, by the way?’

‘In his room, with a migraine.’

‘Oh dear. And how is he generally?’

‘The same, really.’ Helena shrugged.

‘How’s he feeling about going away to school?’

‘He doesn’t really mention it. God, Sadie, I just hope I’m doing the right thing.’

‘Sweetie, he’s won a top academic scholarship to one of the best schools in England. How could you doubt it?’

‘Because Alex may have the mind of Einstein, but emotionally and physically he’s still very young. I looked at Rupes, who’s only four months older than him, and it frightened
me. You know how difficult Alex finds it to interact with his peer group anyway. It’s hardly going to help if they’re all three feet taller than he is. I’m terrified that he might
get horribly bullied.’

‘Schools these days are down on that like a ton of bricks. Besides, he might be small for his age, but Alex isn’t a wimp, Helena. Don’t underestimate him.’

‘I also don’t want him to turn into an arrogant, upper-class twit.’

‘Like Rupes, you mean?’ Sadie said with a wry smile.

‘Exactly. And also, I shall miss him terribly,’ she admitted.

‘I know the two of you have always been so close, but surely that’s even more of a reason to send him away? He needs to cut the apron-strings, for his own sake.’

‘That’s what William says, of course. And you’re probably both right. Anyway, enough of me, how are you?’

Sadie took a gulp of her wine. ‘Thinking I might go on a course which shows me how to stop falling for messed-up commitment-phobes. Honestly, Helena, I don’t know how I manage it, I
really don’t.’

Helena looked at Sadie’s alabaster skin, her ebony hair and the long elegant fingers that curled round the stem of her glass. She was exotic rather than beautiful, a woman of nearly forty,
whose slender frame still allowed her to dress like a young girl. Today she wore a simple cotton dress and flip-flops, and looked no older than thirty.

‘I don’t either, Sadie, but then, you were never going to fall for someone boring, were you? You enjoy the challenge of the unusual.’

‘I know, I know,’ Sadie agreed with a sigh. ‘The “I can fix you, you poor broken puppy” scenario definitely has its appeal. The more damaged they are, the more I
want to save them. Then they get well, feel strong, and bugger off with someone else!’

‘And now your latest disaster has done the same.’

‘Actually, he’s gone back to his ex-girlfriend, the same woman who originally dumped him for being emotionally stunted. Ha!’ Sadie’s lips twitched, and she began to
giggle. ‘Perhaps there’s some money to be made out of this. A bit like puppy boot camp: send me your man for twelve weeks and I’ll knock him into shape and post him back to you
fully trained, panting at your heels when you whistle for him. What do you think?’

‘Fantastic idea. Except you’d want to keep all the sweetest puppies for yourself,’ smiled Helena.

‘True. Anyway, I’ve decided I shall be man-less for the foreseeable future. And as you know, I can never look more than a day ahead, so I’m safe for tonight! How is William, my
all-time favourite man, doing?’

‘He’s fine. The same as always.’

‘Adoring, well-off, steady, great with kids, barbecues and in the sack. Yep.’ Sadie took a slurp of her wine. ‘He’s mine if you ever bin him, promise?’

‘Promise.’

‘Joking aside, Helena, I’ve got to get a move on with this finding a mate business, you know. My biological clock is not so much ticking as needing a skilled watch-mender to repair
it.’

‘Hardly. Women go on having babies well into their forties these days,’ Helena said.

‘Maybe kids just aren’t in Big G’s plans for me, and I shall end up settling for hundreds of godchildren and none of my own,’ Sadie sighed.

‘Immy says you’re her favourite godmother, so you obviously do a wonderful job.’

‘Yes, I stuff tenners inside cards with aplomb, but thanks anyway,’ Sadie said.

‘Hi, Mum, hi, Sadie.’

Alex had ambled out onto the terrace unnoticed.

‘Alex, sweetie, how are you?’ Sadie opened her arms to embrace him. Alex dutifully went to her and allowed himself to be hugged. ‘How’s my lovely boy?’

‘Okay,’ Alex grunted, straightening up and scanning the terrace nervously.

‘If you’re looking for the others, they’re down by the pool. Why don’t you go and have a swim?’ suggested Helena. ‘I’m sure some exercise would do you
good.’

‘S’all right, Mum, thanks.’ He stood in front of them uncomfortably.

‘Then would you go and get the bottle of white wine from the fridge, darling?’ Helena suggested. ‘I’m sure Sadie would like a top-up.’

‘Sadie would, yes.’

Helena sighed as Alex headed indoors. ‘It doesn’t help that he hates Rupes. Maybe that’s why he’s been skulking in his room all day.’

‘I’m afraid I’m with him, there,’ Sadie whispered. ‘Rupes is an arrogant cuss.’

‘Ah, there you are.’ Jules emerged from the house, attired in a bright yellow sarong. On Chloë it would have looked glorious, but on Jules it gave the impression of a wilting
sunflower. She sat down heavily in a chair. ‘All done. Glass of wine going spare for me?’

‘Alex, get another glass for Jules, will you darling?’

Alex, who’d just appeared with the bottle, made a face and went back inside.

‘My goodness, he’s put on a bit of weight since I last saw him. What on earth have you been feeding him, Helena?’ said Jules loudly.

‘It’s puppy fat, that’s all. He’ll lose it when he starts growing,’ Helena replied calmly, hoping that her son hadn’t overheard Jules’ comment.

‘One would hope so. Obese children are becoming so common these days. You’ll have to put him on a diet if he gets any bigger.’

Seeing Helena’s discomfort, Sadie swiftly changed the subject. ‘Isn’t the house dreamy, Jules?’

‘It obviously needs some serious renovation and new bathrooms, but it’s in a lovely position. Thank you,’ Jules said as Alex returned with a glass. ‘How’s
school?’

‘I’ve left it.’

‘I know that, Alex,’ said Jules sharply. ‘I meant, are you looking forward to starting your new one?’

‘No.’

‘Why not? Rupes can’t wait. He’s won the sports scholarship to Oundle, you know.’

‘I don’t want to go away from home, that’s why not,’ muttered Alex.

‘Oh, you’ll get used to it. Rupes loved boarding at prep school. He was head boy, and collected a raft of sports prizes at Speech Day.’ Jules’ eyes filled with motherly
pride as she saw Rupes and Chloë walking up from the pool.

‘Hi, Alex, how you doing?’ Rupes gave Alex a hefty thump on the back.

‘Fine, thanks,’ he nodded.

‘Chloë ’n’ me were going to wander up to the village later to see what’s going on, weren’t we?’ Rupes smiled at Chloë and laid a hand possessively
on her shoulder.

‘No, thanks. I’ve got a headache. I’ll see you later.’ Alex turned abruptly and disappeared inside.

Jules frowned. ‘Is he all right?’

‘Yes, he’s fine,’ replied Helena.

‘Always been a strange lad, hasn’t he? You make sure you give him a pep talk about boarding, Rupes. He’s very nervous, poor thing.’

‘Yeah, we both will, won’t we Chloë? Don’t worry, Helena, we’ll sort him out,’ Rupes swaggered.

‘I think I heard a car.’ Standing up before she was sick into her wine glass, Helena crossed the terrace to greet William and the little ones.

17th July 2006

Oh, woe is me, woe is me!

I’ve just counted the number of days that tosser is staying, then I counted the number of hours that made, and in one million, two hundred and nine thousand, six hundred
seconds from now, he will be . . .

GONE.

Two weeks, two whole weeks of Rupes lording it over Chloë, touching her perfect skin and making jokes that aren’t even funny, yet she laughs.

She can’t fancy him, surely? He’s as thick as a plank, and then some. I thought elegant, intelligent women like her preferred men with brains, not lolloping great lumps
of arrogant, vapid muscle.

Supper tonight was a living hell. Rupes made sure he sat next to her, his Ray-Bans still on his head like a girly hairband, even though it was pitch-black.

He thinks he is – as Chloë says with alarming regularity – SOOOO cool.

And the way he laughs: a great choking sound like he’s swallowed a peanut and is trying to bring it up. His Adam’s apple shakes in a revolting way and his neck and face
go bright red as if he’s drunk too much port.

Am I jealous because he has an Adam’s apple?

Because he is six feet taller than me?

Because Chloë seems to like him?

Yes! Yes! Yes!

I thump my pillow, then look underneath it and realise I’ve just thumped Bee in the face too. I kiss the stuffing where his nose once was, and apologise to him. I hold his
small grey paws in my small brown paws.

‘You are my only friend,’ I say solemnly. He doesn’t reply, but then, he never does, because he is an inanimate bundle of old cloth and cotton wool.

I used to believe he was real once. Am I mad? I’ve often wondered if I am. But then, what is sanity? Is it a great blond thug of a boy who knows how to chat up girls? If it
is, I’d prefer to be me . . .

I think.

I know I’m no good at small talk, and it’s a disadvantage to feel unable to communicate. Perhaps I should join one of those monasteries where monks maintain permanent
silence. That would suit me down to the ground.

Apart from the fact I don’t believe in God, and I wouldn’t want to wear a dress.

I don’t think Dad thinks much of Rupes either, which is something. He pulled him up a couple of times when Rupes was spouting crap at the table, and corrected him and his
inaccurate geography. ‘No Rupes, Vilnius is
not
in Latvia, it’s the capital of Lithuania.’ I could have kissed my old man when he said that. Although personally I’m
surprised Rupes even knew Vilnius was a city, rather than some overpaid celebrity footballer.

He’s actually only four months older than me, yet he seems to think he’s already joined the massed ranks of adults and they’ll be interested in what he has to say.
It’s that grim mother of his that encourages it. She hangs off his every word and completely ignores poor old Viola, who’s turned out to be rather sweet. She’s almost eleven,
which makes her only a couple of years younger than me, although she seems far younger, more like Immy and Max.

I’ve always liked little kids. I like the way they ask bizarre questions out of the blue. A bit like me, except I’ve learned to think them now, not say them out
loud.

And she’s bright, Viola. And she confided to me tonight at supper that she doesn’t like horses very much. Which is a real shame, as her mother insists she sits on one
every day of her life and makes her enter competitions and groom their manes and brush their fetlocks, whatever fetlocks are.

Jules reminds me of a horse. She has huge teeth and a big nose, and I’d just love to stick a bit in her gob to shut her up.

Anyway, none of this brings me any closer to solving my problem: how to tell Chloë I love her.

She spoke to me once tonight. She said, ‘You okay, Alex?’ And it was magic. She said it with feeling, total concentration, with an accent on the ‘you’. Which
must mean something, surely.

I couldn’t reply, of course, because of this thing with my mouth refusing to work when I’m in her presence, but I think I nodded well enough. But if I can’t
actually
speak
to her, how can I tell her I think she is the most wonderful girl in the world?

At that moment, I glance at the brown paper envelope full of love letters lying on my bed. Then at
The Collected Poems of Keats
on the bookshelf above me.

And I see the answer.

‘Sweetie, there is the most fabulous-looking man walking down towards the house.’ Sadie found Helena and William in the kitchen, setting up breakfast the next
morning.