The Olive Tree (30 page)

‘No.’

‘Well, let’s hope that now Sacha is on his way back to England, and Jules and Co. are off to Alexis’ villa tomorrow, things will calm down. Have you chosen?’

‘I’ll have the chicken souvlaki.’ She was not in the slightest bit hungry.

‘And me, the fish.’ William called the waiter over and ordered. He lifted his wine glass to hers. ‘Cheers. And a belated happy anniversary, darling.’

‘Thank you. And to you,’ she replied tensely.

‘So, you mentioned in the car that the famous Fabio is coming to Cyprus,’ said William. ‘It seems all Helena roads, past, present and future, lead to Pandora.’

‘It is rather a coincidence. The La Scala ballet company are doing a week of special performances at the amphitheatre in Limassol. They did the same thing once when I was still dancing
with them.’

‘I wish I could have seen you dance.’

‘You do. Every morning.’

‘And the other night,’ he added with a rueful smile. ‘I meant on a proper stage, standing on your toes and wearing that net ruff around your middle.’

‘You mean a tutu.’

‘Yes, that’s the one.’ William paused to take a sip of wine, then said, ‘So, how have you been in the past couple of days?’

‘Fine. Just busy looking after everyone.’

‘That’s not what I meant.’

‘No.’ Helena fiddled with a piece of bread from the basket on the table, then swiftly changed the subject. ‘Can you believe Sadie hasn’t come home yet? She’s still
staying up in the village with this chap she met at the party. He’s twenty-five and a carpenter apparently, with the best body she’s ever seen.’

‘How nice for her, but darling, we really do need to talk.’ William firmly steered the conversation back. ‘Alexis and I had a chat while I was staying with him. He apologised
to me profusely, said his behaviour towards you, and me, had been inappropriate. Admittedly, it’s not particularly pleasant having another man lusting after your wife, but I’ve accepted
his apology. And I have to admit that he’s a decent chap. He was good with Sacha too, and gave him plenty of sensible advice. So that’s
his
side of things. What about you,
Helena? Are you still harbouring some deep-seated passion for Alexis, as he admitted he has been for you?’

‘No, William, I swear to you I’m not. Of course, seeing him again reminded me of when we were younger, but nothing more than that, I promise. I can’t make you believe
me,’ she sighed, ‘but it’s true.’

‘I do believe you. If I didn’t, where would we be then? I was wrong to doubt you. We both know trust is everything in a marriage, though to be frank, I sometimes feel you
don’t. Trust me with your innermost thoughts, that is.’

‘No,’ Helena agreed. ‘I’m so sorry, William. I just find it difficult.’

‘Alexis also told me you had something you should tell me yourself.’

‘Did he?’ Helena gulped, and her heart started to pound.

‘Yes. In other words, he thinks you
need
to tell me, for your own sake.’ William reached across the table and put a hand on hers. ‘So, darling, what was it? What
happened?’

‘I . . .’ Tears sprang to Helena’s eyes. ‘. . . can’t . . .’

‘Yes, you can—’ They were interrupted at that moment by the waiter bringing their food, giving Helena a moment to regain control of herself.

When the waiter withdrew, William took her hand again and continued. ‘Darling, I’ve had time to think about it in the past couple of days and it doesn’t take a genius to guess,
so I’ll make it easy for you. Did you get pregnant by Alexis?’

‘Yes.’ Helena felt sick to her stomach, but the word – and the truth – was out there, and she couldn’t take it back.

‘So, what happened to the baby?’

‘I . . . aborted it.’

‘Did Alexis know?’

‘Not at the time. I only found out I was pregnant when I got back to England.’

‘Did you tell him?’

‘Not originally, no. It was only recently, on that afternoon you took the children out to the beach to give me a break.’

‘Christ, no wonder you both looked so odd when we got back. I knew something had happened, but I didn’t know what, so I suspected the worst. Although now I know what it was,
I’m not surprised he was comforting you. Just as I would have done if you’d ever have trusted me enough to tell me.’ There was a hint of anger in his eyes, but also sympathy.
‘So, what did you do?’

‘I knew I couldn’t keep the baby. I was a boarder at the Royal Ballet School by then, so I had to wait until half-term to do anything. I found the name of a clinic in the Yellow
Pages and booked myself in. When I got home afterwards, I told my mother I had a bad stomach upset and spent the rest of the week in bed recovering.’

‘So you went through the whole thing by yourself?’

‘I couldn’t tell anyone, William. I had just turned sixteen and I was terrified.’

‘You never thought to tell Alexis? Surely you could have written to him? He obviously loved you, though what he was doing forcing you into an adult relationship when you were still only
fifteen, I don’t know. Part of me wants to wring his neck, as you can imagine.’

‘William, he didn’t know I was underage. I told him I was nearly seventeen. I lied to him, because I knew if I didn’t, he wouldn’t touch me.’

‘And you wanted to be touched.’ William winced. ‘Sorry, Helena, forgive me for finding this conversation so difficult.’

‘Which is why I’ve never told you,’ she whispered.

‘Is this why you were so tense before you came here to Pandora? The thought that Alexis might still be here, and the truth would come out?’

‘Partly, yes,’ she agreed, ‘but I didn’t think you’d notice.’

‘Of course I did. Everyone has. We’ve all been worried about you.’

‘Have you? I’m sorry. I just . . .’ Helena shook her head, and tried her best to stem the tears she had no right to shed. ‘I didn’t know what to do.’

‘Personally, I find the truth – however painful – always works the best. Anyway, darling, now at least I know and I’m so sorry you had to go through that alone, and so
young.’

‘Please don’t apologise, William. What I did has haunted me ever since. I can never truly forgive myself.’

‘Well, you have to try, Helena. We all do what we think is best at the time and even you must realise that, in retrospect, it was the right thing,’ William added gently.
‘Unless, of course, you really wanted to come back here and marry Alexis.’

‘It was a summer romance . . . I . . .
we
were from two different worlds, and so young. I cut off contact with him completely. I thought it was better that he never knew.’

‘So you kept this secret all these years, and never told anyone?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you had no contact with Alexis afterwards?’

‘I just said . . . I couldn’t.’ Tears came to her eyes. ‘You can’t imagine the shame I felt . . .
still
feel.’

‘Well, hopefully now the secret is out, it might help you to heal. And realise you simply had no choice. I’m really sorry for what happened to you, darling. You were just a girl
– scarily, not much older than Chloë – and probably not even as worldly-wise as she is. What a shame you couldn’t tell your mother.’

‘God, William!’ Helena looked horrified at the thought. ‘She would probably have kicked me out of the house and disowned me. She was very proper and old-fashioned. More like a
grandmother, I suppose.’

‘Well, maybe not having had a mother you could confide in is why you find it more difficult than most to rely on others. And more to the point, trust them. Please, darling’ –
William gently squeezed her hand – ‘try to believe I’m here for you. I really am.’

‘I know you are. And I’m so sorry.’

‘So, just one more question while we’re clearing the air . . .’

‘What?’

‘Are you sure you don’t want to tell me who Alex’s father really is? Having convinced myself it was Alexis – and I’m sure Alex has, too – I’m now back
to square one.’

‘William, please! I’ve told you before, it was just some nameless guy I had a one-night stand with,’ Helena said, her brow furrowed with tension.

‘I know you have. And equally, knowing you as I do – and especially after what you’ve just told me – it just doesn’t make sense. It’s not in your nature to
have a one-night stand, Helena. Unless you were a very different person back then.’

‘A slapper, you mean?’ she sighed. ‘After tonight’s revelation, I’m sure that’s exactly what you think I am.’

‘Of course I don’t. You were twenty-nine when I married you – naturally you had a past that involved men. My track record with women was hardly spotless, as you know, so please
don’t think I’m judging you, because I’m not. I’ve been married to you for ten years and I’d just like to know the truth, that’s all.’

‘Can we leave it, William? I’ve told you what you wanted to know, and . . .’ Tears of exhaustion and frustration finally sprang to Helena’s eyes.

‘Okay, enough,’ he said gently, seeing her despair. ‘Thank you for telling me about the baby, darling. The worst is over now.’

If only it was
, Helena thought sadly.

William held her hand across the gear-stick on the way home, like he used to when they first knew each other. His face had lost a lot of its tension, and he looked far more
relaxed. He pulled the car into the drive of Pandora, switched off the engine and turned to her.

‘I love you, Helena, please believe me. Whatever you’ve done before me is irrelevant. You’re a wonderful wife, mother and human being, so stop torturing yourself,
please.’ He kissed her gently on the lips and stroked her hair. ‘I want to take you to bed, right now. Let’s sneak in through the kitchen door so we don’t get
sidetracked.’

They walked hand in hand towards the back door. William opened it as quietly as he could, and they tiptoed across the darkened hall and up the stairs.

Later, Helena lay in William’s arms, feeling the cool breeze of the fan blowing across her naked skin. William, as always, had fallen asleep straight afterwards. She had
forgotten, in the tension of the past few weeks, what comfort lovemaking could bring. She felt calm, and thankful that she’d told him, even if there was so much more he couldn’t
know.

For a fleeting moment, Helena wondered if the rest of her story could stay hidden – if finally she might be able to let it all go, stay like this for always, safe in William’s arms.
Not waiting for the moment when he discovered the truth. And left her.

Helena closed her eyes and tried to relax. Tonight he was with her, and they were close once more. For that, she must be grateful. And finally, she slept.

‘Mummy, are you awake?’ Immy’s silky hair tickled her nose.

‘No, I’m fast asleep.’ She knew Immy was staring down at her, studying her intently.

‘Oh, but you’re talking, so you must be awake.’

Fred punched her arm and she jumped. ‘Ouch! Don’t do that!’

‘I waking you up,’ he announced logically. ‘I want milk.’

‘Morning, darling.’ William snaked a hand past Immy and stroked Helena’s shoulder. ‘I’ll go downstairs and make some tea.’ He was already up and reaching for
his boxer shorts. ‘Come on, you two,’ he said to Fred and Immy. ‘You can help me.’

‘Daddy, why have you and Mummy got no clothes on?’ Immy asked as she trailed behind him.

‘It was very hot last night,’ Helena heard him reply as the three of them left the room.

‘Well, I really think you should keep your pants on in bed, Daddy.’

‘Me too,’ said Fred.

Helena lay back and smiled at the exchange. She felt refreshed this morning, as though a storm had passed over, bringing calm fresh air in its wake.

‘Now perhaps we can really have a holiday,’ she murmured to herself.

8th August 2006

The last couple of weeks have been just what a family holiday should be.

There has been no more Greek Tragedy, Bunny Boilers, Grape-Stampers, Divorces or Drunkards.

And after all the excitement and tension, it’s been pleasant.

Actually, I hate that word. ‘Pleasant’ is a neat house in a suburb, it is matching anoraks going for a walk in the country on their matching owners. Who own one
well-behaved dog and drive a Nissan Micra. It is middle-class mediocrity. It is most of the western world.

No one thinks they are ordinary, of course. If they did, they’d shoot themselves. Because we all aspire to be individuals. We are not ants, whose massed colonies and superb
organisation when they are staging an attack on a tiny piece of chocolate Fred has dropped on the kitchen floor never ceases to amaze me.

They remind me of the Nazis, or the Russian Socialist Revolutionary Party, or Chairman Mao’s gang of millions: precision-trained and brain-dead.

I think how much I’d like to meet the ants’ leader. And imagine he is probably – like all psychopathic dictators – short and ugly, with a penchant for facial
hair.

Perhaps I’d have a career path if I grew a moustache . . .

Talking of shooting oneself, nothing in the garden is ever totally rosy, as Michel and Chloë are still together. In fact, they are rarely apart. Sadly, he’s a nice guy,
and I really like him as these things go: he’s gentle and bright and polite.