He led the way into the dining room and paused at the door, smiling down to Zoe again. ‘This is a welcome lunch for you,’ he said gently. ‘Specially made by everyone who works here.’
And it was-a feast that promised a small girl’s heaven. The delicate finger food looked as if it had been designed to tempt and tantalise a little girl’s appetite. There were tiny cheesy biscuits in the shape of animals. Finger-sized sausage rolls. Chicken wings with tiny chef-hat wrappers around their tips so a small hand wouldn’t get greasy. Strawberries and grapes and slivers of watermelon. Tiny chocolate cakes with a dusting of sugar. Miniature sponge cakes with the tops turned into wings and fixed in place with a mix of red jelly and cream. Petite eclairs with creamy custard filling.
Around them the room was a mass of fresh cut flowers, a wondrous fantasy feast of beauty and pure delight.
Zoe sat down and gazed at the table in awe. ‘Elsa won’t have to tell me to eat here,’ she breathed.
‘That’s what we hoped,’ he said and glanced at Elsa again-and got that look again. Raw pain.
‘You don’t approve?’ he asked and she caught herself and managed to smile. But her smile was strained. She was having trouble disguising how hard it was to summon it at all.
‘It’s wonderful,’ she said.
‘So why do you look unhappy?’ he asked gently.
‘Elsa’s a bit sad ’cause she hasn’t got any pretty clothes,’ Zoe said and popped a strawberry into her mouth- and then looked mortified. She swallowed it manfully and looked even more guilty. ‘Is…is it okay to start?’
‘Absolutely it’s okay to start,’ Stefanos said and handed over the sausage rolls. Zoe took two-and then looked at how small they were and took another.
‘Thank you very much,’ she breathed, and Stefanos glanced at the door. He knew at least six members of staff were behind there, holding their breath that she’d like their offering, that she’d be a kind child, that she could be a princess to be proud of.
She was all of those things, he thought. And it was thanks to Elsa.
Elsa, who didn’t have pretty things to wear.
‘So you don’t have any dresses?’ he probed and she cast him a glance that was almost resentful.
‘I didn’t bring any. And I’m not sad because of that. It’s just…I’m just a bit overwhelmed.’
‘You mean yesterday there was just you loving Zoe,’ he said gently. ‘And now there’s me and a palace full of staff and an island ready to love her.’
‘It’s crazy to think like that,’ she said, but she did.
‘So back to the clothes,’ he said gently. ‘Can I ask why there’s nothing but jeans?’
‘I’m a marine biologist. Why would I need dresses?’
There was a loaded silence. Zoe ate two sausage rolls and a strawberry and then thought about what Elsa had said. And decided she might add her pennyworth.
‘Elsa did have pretty clothes,’ the child told him, considering an eclair. ‘Only she got too skinny and they looked funny on her. We kept them for ages but then she said, “You know what, Zoe, I’m never going to be this size again; they might as well make someone else happy.” So we packed them up and took them to a church fair. And Mrs Henniker bought Elsa’s prettiest yellow dress and she looked awful in it and Elsa cried.’
‘I did not,’ Elsa said, fighting for dignity. ‘I had hay fever.’
‘You only get hay fever when you cry,’ Zoe said wisely. ‘Giving your clothes away made you really sad.’
The bond between these two was amazing. Up until now he’d thought it was Elsa who did all the giving. Suddenly a new view was opening up.
Zoe was eight going on thirty.
Elsa was…sometimes ninety. Sometimes a kid.
She was trying for indignant here but it wasn’t coming off. Zoe had exposed her and she knew she was exposed.
‘Why did you lose weight?’
‘I stopped eating for a while,’ she told him in a voice that said no more questions were welcome. ‘I’ve started again.’
‘We might need to buy you some clothes,’ he said, and watched as vulnerability disappeared, to be replaced by indignation.
‘You don’t need to buy me anything. I like my jeans.’
‘I like your jeans too,’ he said-and he did. They were exceedingly cute. Mind, she could do with a bit more flesh on her frame. She was almost elfin. And that limp…
‘What happened to your leg?’ he asked, and got another scared look.
‘Please…just leave it. I’m here to be with Zoe while she gets to know the country her papa came from. I intend to stay in the background. Can we leave it at that?’
He considered her gravely and shook his head. ‘Zoe, what’s wrong with Elsa’s leg?’
He heard her gasp. He didn’t look at her.
This woman had cared for Zoe for four years. If he’d known of Christos’s death he would have been there for his little cousin. The responsibility was his, but he hadn’t even known of Zoe’s existence.
That hurt on all sorts of levels, and one of those levels was the fact that this woman seemed to have put her life on hold for Zoe-and it might be worse than that.
He’d watched her come down the stairs and realised this was no twisted ankle. She was protecting her hip-as she’d been protecting her hip two weeks ago on the beach but he’d been too preoccupied to see it.
‘She hurt it when my mama and papa died,’ Zoe said, not picking up on the undercurrents. She was back considering food. This meal was a huge success. He could practically hear the chef’s sigh of happiness from here.
‘Are you going to tell me how badly?’ he asked Elsa.
‘I broke my hip,’ she said discouragingly.
‘You were in the car accident with Zoe’s parents?’
‘Yes.’
‘And your husband…’He hadn’t put two and two together, but he did now, and he didn’t like it.
‘Elsa’s Matty was killed too,’ Zoe said, and she was suddenly grave and mature and factual. ‘My mama and papa were in the front seat and Matty and Elsa and me were in the back. A great big truck came round the corner on the wrong side of the road and hit our camper van and our camper van started to burn. Elsa pulled me out but she couldn’t pull anyone else out. We were both really, really sad. I was in hospital for a long time-I can hardly remember-but I do remember Elsa coming in a wheelchair to see me. She says my grandma came to see me too, but I can’t remember that. I remember being in a bath a lot and crying, but Elsa was always there. And then my grandma got sick so Elsa took me home with her-and now we’re living happily ever after.’
She was suddenly back to being a little girl again. Happy and optimistic. ‘Only this is a better place for happy ever after, isn’t it, Elsa?’
‘There was nothing wrong with my beach,’ Elsa said, making an unsuccessful attempt to glower, and Zoe giggled as if she’d said something silly.
‘No, but our beach doesn’t have cream puffs. These are really good. Can I have another one, please?’
‘Be my guest,’ Stefanos said and he handed her the plate-but his eyes were on Elsa. ‘So why are you still limping?’
And once again it was Zoe who answered. ‘Mr Roberts says she should have another operation. Mr Roberts came to see Elsa last time I was in hospital and he said, “When are we going to fix that hip, young lady?” And Elsa said, “When I have the time and the money, and like that’s going to happen soon.” And Mr Roberts said she had to get her pi…her priorities right and she said she did.’
‘Zoe, don’t,’ Elsa said, looking desperate. ‘Please, sweetheart, this is nothing to do with Prince Stefanos.’
‘No, but he’s nice,’ Zoe said, as if that excused everything. ‘Can I have one of those cakey things with wings, please?’
What would happen if she just got up from the table, walked right out of here, straight to the ferry, then on a plane back to Australia?
She had a return ticket. That was one of her stipulations about coming.
It was a first class ticket. If she traded it for economy she’d have enough to live on until she could start back to
