teach Nicky to surf. Nikos had produced his surfboard and was already teaching Nicky to catch the waves.
‘When it comes you need to be paddling almost as fast as the wave,’ Nikos was saying and a trick of sound made his voice carry all the way up to where she stood. ‘Okay, here comes a good one. Paddle, paddle, go!’
The wave caught him, and Nicky hung on for dear life as the wave carried him all the way to the sand.
He stood up, exultant, in the shallows. Big with excitement. ‘I caught it. I caught it!’
‘We’ll have you kneeling on the board by tomorrow,’ Nikos said. ‘And standing by the end of the week.’
But she’d heard enough.
She turned away and walked back to the too big bed, lay down and stared up at herself. Multiplied by plenty.
‘Nicky needs his papa,’ she told Jupiter-or was it Venus? ‘He should stay here.
‘You need his papa.’ Right. She was talking to a planet.
It was probably a star, she told herself. Surely it was okay to discuss the meaning of life with a star.
‘To stay, I’d have to trust him,’ she told…what the heck, Venus.
‘I think I do trust him.’
But she-or Venus-was lying.
She might not trust him-but she loved him.
That was the only truth. She’d given her heart away when she was eight years old and she’d never taken it back. But that one dreadful betrayal…It didn’t mean she loved him less. It was as if there was some part of her that had got it wrong. She’d trusted him so absolutely that his betrayal had destroyed a part of herself.
She hugged herself and Venus tucked herself behind a cloud in sympathy.
There were still a thousand stars. All wanting to talk to her.
She was never going to sleep in this room.
Where, then? On the same floor as Nikos and the children?
‘They’re together. I’m on my own,’ she whispered and then thought, ooh, who’s feeling sorry for herself?
There was a shout of laughter from down in the cove. She climbed out of bed-it was almost a marathon to get to the side-and walked back out on the balcony.
They were playing Falafel.
It was a game she and Nikos had played as kids.
When Annia made falafels she formed her little balls of chickpeas and parsley into balls and then rolled them in flour until they were thoroughly coated.
So Athena and Nikos would swim until they were wrinkly as prunes, then race up the beach and roll and roll in the dry sand until every inch of them was coated. Then run round being falafels. They were doing it now-two kids and Nikos. Two kids and their papa.
Completely coated in dry sand, they stood-then Nikos spread his arms and moaned like a great sandy spectre and started chasing them.
The children squealed in delight. The beach at dusk…she’d always thought it was the most magical of times, and here was her son, learning about it for himself. With his papa.
Nicky ran and ran. Christa was far easier to catch but Nikos made it seem as if it was just as hard to catch her. Finally he had them, a child under each arm, and was staggering back to the water to wash them off. Oscar brought up the rear, barking his delight.
And suddenly she was crying.
Damn, she was crying.
Nikos looked up from the beach. And saw her.
He stilled. At his feet the children whooped and splashed in the shallows. But Nikos simply stood-and watched.
And, from nowhere, into her heart came the words he’d used so often.
Dare she take a chance? Dare she forget what had happened ten years ago?
Dare she move forward?
It was too soon. It was too fast.
She had to get rid of these stupid, wussy tears.
She turned and started to go inside.
‘Thena!’ It was a call from the beach, strong and demanding. She should ignore it. She should…
She turned.
He was still watching her.
‘Dare you,’ he called, and she gave a gasp of fright. What was it about this man? How did he know what was inside her head?
Did he know that she loved him?
She turned and headed back to her bed and her stars and her confusion.
If she talked to a thousand stars she might just get some answers.
Or not.
She’d left him for a career.
She’d had a career. She’d succeeded on her terms. Surely enough was enough. Surely he could convince her to stay.
He stood in the shallows and watched her back away from the balcony, head indoors and haul the French windows closed after her.
He’d swear she was crying.
‘Does your mama cry much?’ he asked Nicky conversationally, as if this was a guy to guy discussion of the female sex.
‘Only when she thinks I’m asleep,’ Nicky told him.
‘So she cries at night?’
‘I’m not supposed to know,’ Nicky said. ‘But sometimes when I snuggle into bed with her in the morning her pillow’s soggy.’
‘Why do you think she gets sad at night?’
‘I used to think it was ’cos she was lonely,’ Nicky said. ‘But she’s got me and she’s got Oscar. Only now I know about here…’ He stood and gazed around him, a small boy taking in a small boy’s heaven. ‘Now I think it must be ’cos she was lonely for you.’
‘For…for this island, you mean?’
‘Mama says things and places don’t matter,’ Nicky said. ‘She says only people matter. So I figure it’s you.’
He brought the children up from the cove. Mrs Lavros helped bath them and get them to bed. Athena didn’t appear. Nikos half expected Nicky to want his mother, but they discussed it and decided if she hadn’t wanted to swim she must be very tired indeed. So Nicky himself decided if he was sleeping with Christa and with Oscar there was no need to disturb her.
So Nikos sat beside their tent-cum-bed and started to read them a story-only Nicky objected.
‘I have a book in my bag,’ he told Nikos. ‘It’s really good. Mama lets me read to her. Can I read it to you? Is that okay?’
‘Sure,’ Nikos said, so he sat and watched as his son read his daughter a bedtime story and it was hard not to tear up himself.
It was Thena who wept, he told himself. Real men don’t weep.
What was the concept of a real man?
His father had been a real man. He’d died of a heart attack when Nikos was twelve, and Nikos had adored him.
His father had loved Nikos and had been totally, unconditionally proud of him. Even though he’d been dead for many years, that love lingered on. As did the echoes of his care.
A real man had a family and loved them unashamedly. A real man would face any terror to keep that family
