My Map of You (25 page)

Read My Map of You Online

Authors: Isabelle Broom

BOOK: My Map of You
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Holly was still doing her level best to force down a lid on the burgeoning rage she was feeling towards Aidan. She didn't trust herself to speak for fear that it would come out as a roar, so instead she said nothing, merely smiling and nodding along to Rupert's chatter about work and what he thought of the island so far.

When they got to the quiet part of the beach where the sand had been left soft and undisturbed for the nesting loggerhead turtles, Rupert kept stopping to pick up shells and present them to her. He was trying his best to jolly her out of her preoccupied mood, and she wished she could just chill out. If only she could find it in herself to run around on the sand with him and join in with his game, but she couldn't. Even the sight of the ocean, which she usually found so soothing, was having no effect. She would feel much better once she'd spoken to an estate agent and got the ball rolling – that was what she must prioritise now.

Nikos was waiting on the steps of the taverna in Kalamaki as if he'd been watching them walk down the beach for ages. As soon as Holly was within range, he grabbed her arm and marched her inside.

‘Where have you been? I fix your bike. I thought you dead in the rain.'

Rupert, who'd been right behind Holly, muscled between them indignantly. ‘Excuse me,' he said. ‘Why are you shouting at
my
girlfriend? Leave her alone.'

Holly rolled her eyes as Nikos took a step back in surprise.

‘It's okay,' she told him. ‘This is Nikos – he's my friend.'

Rupert eyed the Greek suspiciously. Today he was wearing a bright red baseball cap with the word ‘Athens' sewn across the front.

‘You've only been here a few days,' Rupert argued. ‘How can he be your friend already?'

‘He just is.' Holly was starting to lose her temper. She took a deep breath and forced herself to smile. ‘I'm sorry,
but I told you about Nikos. He set me up with the moped, remember?'

‘The moped that broke down?' Rupert grunted, but he looked less hostile.

Nikos beamed at them in turn, showing off his few remaining teeth.

‘I fix your bike!' he said proudly, motioning to the car park. Holly peered through the bank of tables and saw her little moped, sheltering in the shade of a tree.

‘Efharisto.'
She took Nikos' hand and shook it. ‘You are a very good man.'

‘Poli kala!'
Nikos told her. ‘
Poli kala
is meaning very good.'

‘Well then, erm, that then,' she grinned.

Nikos bustled off to fetch them some menus and Rupert and Holly sat down at one of the outdoor tables. Rupert ordered a beer for himself, while she opted for water. She found that she didn't have any appetite – not even for her beloved Greek salad – but Rupert chose a burger and chips.

‘Do you not want to try something Greek?' she asked in surprise, as Nikos hesitated next to them, the end of his already desecrated biro wedged between two of his stumpy teeth.

‘Nah.' Rupert gave the menu another cursory glance. ‘I need something with plenty of salt and carbs after all the booze we sank last night.'

It was fair enough, she reasoned. He should be able to order and eat whatever the hell he pleased, so why did she find it so aggravating? She made herself reach under the table and put her hand on his thigh, and Rupert turned to her and smiled. It was a real smile too, full of warmth and
love and contentment. She was being so unfair to him. This was her Rupert, her boyfriend, the man who had made her perfectly happy for the past year – why did she think that Aidan was any better for her? He clearly wasn't as good a person as Rupert, not if he was willing to run straight back to his ex after all these years and then rub her nose in it. She knew it must be weird for him to see her with Rupert, but she hadn't had a say in that – and she would never have rubbed his nose in anything.

‘Will you come into town with me after this?' she asked him now. She had been planning to leave him at the beach and visit the estate agent on her own, but that seemed unfair somehow. And anyway, Rupert was better at all this official stuff than her, even if he didn't speak a word of Greek. She'd feel better equipped with him by her side, and he could take over if things became tricky.

‘Of course I'll come with you,' he said.

‘Oh no. I mean bugger.' Holly held a hand up. ‘You can't. I don't have a spare helmet for the bike.'

‘We can get a taxi then.'

‘I have helmet,' Nikos interrupted, crashing Rupert's burger and chips down on the table so hard that a handful of fries toppled overboard.

‘Really?' Holly smiled up at him.

‘Yes. Of course. Every Greek man has helmet.'

Rupert snorted with laughter at the same time as taking his first bite of the burger, giving Nikos the perfect excuse to thump him across the back.

‘I bring,' he said, retreating towards the kitchen. ‘You can use it.'

And that was that.

Tuesday, 2 January 1996

Sandy,

I don't even know why I still write to you. I have no idea if you're even there. Are you there? I know I should be brave and just book a flight over to the island, but I never seem to have the money these days. Everything I got from the sale of Mum and Dad's house has gone. Simon used to look after all the money, but now he's gone too. Holly is all I have left, and sometimes I feel like I'm losing her too. She would have been better off staying with you. You would have been a better mother than me. I'm useless and worthless, and I know you know it's true. Happy New Year anyway, twin. I know you won't write back, but I still wish you would.

Jenny x

23

Holly
carried her bag and the helmets across to a tiny wooden jetty. It was nestled along one side of a small harbour surrounded by stone walls, and a faded fishing boat bobbed gently in the water below her feet, the blue and white paint cracking in the sunshine.

It was nearing five, and the shadows were starting to lengthen in the fading light.

After spending an awkward hour in one of the island's estate agencies, with herself and Rupert doing their best to communicate everything they needed to about the house with their limited Greek vocabulary and the brief glossary in the back of the guidebook, Holly felt that they deserved a breather. Rupert had suggested he grab them both a coffee and the temptation to sit at the water's edge in the town was too great – especially given the stunning view.

She picked absent-mindedly at a small scab on her knee, the skin underneath pink and fresh, quite unlike the rest of her. In just a week, she'd turned a deep brown colour, and while she knew the sun was unhealthy, she couldn't help but luxuriate in the feel of it against her shoulders. She hadn't burnt at all, despite being irresponsibly sparing with her application of sun cream. Her natural colouring was in stark contrast to both Rupert and Aidan, whose fair complexions didn't stand a chance against the Greek summer sun.

Aidan. There he was again, strolling into her subconscious, boldly daring her to ignore him. She longed to give in and picture him: his freckled forearms, his lopsided smile, his broad chest beneath those tatty T-shirts … But she mustn't. What was the point? As she'd told the estate agent just now, what she wanted was to sell the house and cut all ties to the island as soon as possible. Her mum may have spent years here – and her aunt too – but that didn't mean she had to follow the same path. On the contrary, she had been trying to build a life for herself in London for years; why would she give that up now? Then again, if she was being completely honest with herself, she definitely had thought about moving over here. She loved this place, she knew that, and there had even been a few secret occasions when she'd imagined creating a life for herself here. A life with Aidan.

But that was before. Today, Aidan had made his feelings perfectly clear. Whatever he'd led her to believe, she now suspected that he must have made exactly the same promises to Clara as soon as she came running back. He probably hooked up with girls all year round on the island. She was nothing special, as she'd always believed. But maybe she really
was
something special to Rupert. Why the hell was she so fixated on Aidan when she had Rupert? Holly sighed as a flash of pain clenched at her heart. She knew why, of course – it was because Aidan was the only man she'd ever truly been herself with, the only man she'd ever really trusted – and that had meant everything to her.

She took a deep breath and stared down into the clear water. She knew what she must do. If she was ever going
to stand a chance of making things work with Rupert, then he had to know the truth.

‘Coffee for the lady.' Rupert was back, looking slightly sweaty and pink-cheeked, but very happy. Holly suspected it was more to do with the visit to the estate agent than the view of the mountains across the water.

He sat down next to her and smiled.

‘I'm going all pink,' he said, using his chin to point at his bare shoulders. His T-shirt was riding up and Holly stared for a second at the wiry blond hair around his belly button. ‘Now you know why I've always preferred the slopes to the beach,' he told her with a laugh.

The end of his nose was starting to peel, and Holly felt her resolve weakening.

‘You're very quiet today,' he said now, fixing her with one of his Rupert-Farlington-Clark-misses-nothing looks.

She nodded, biting her lip and covering her face with the Styrofoam cup.

While he wasn't as broad and tall as Aidan, Rupert's penchant for running, skiing and playing the occasional game of weekend rugby meant that he was in good shape. His fondness for a drink was to blame for the beginnings of a tiny paunch, but as Holly looked sideways at him now, she found that more endearing than anything else. Men that looked too perfect weren't attractive, as far as she was concerned – she preferred a few flaws.

As if sensing her thoughts, Rupert reached for Holly and held her against him. He was very quiet suddenly and seemed almost nervous. She'd never seen him like this before – it wasn't a version of Rupert that she recognised,
which did little to ease the feelings of dread that were coursing through her.

‘I've got something I need to tell you,' she began, immediately feeling him tense up next to her. Over his shoulder, she could see the distant shapes of two boys kicking a ball to one another on a patch of grass by the water and a child throwing pebbles into the waves.

‘Listen, Hols,' he interrupted. ‘I'm sorry for turning up here unannounced. That was stupid of me. I just missed you so much and I thought … Well, I thought it would be romantic.'

‘It was!' Holly pulled away from him and used her fingers to gently lift his chin. ‘It was so sweet of you – it really was. I'm the one who should be saying sorry.'

‘No,' he squinted at her as the sunlight bounced off the surface of the water below their feet. ‘I ambushed you. I really am sorry if I've annoyed you.'

‘I'm sorry that I've been acting like a total cow,' Holly said, pushing a few stray tendrils of hair off her cheeks. ‘The past week has been so weird. I feel … I feel different.'

‘You feel differently about me?'

‘No,' she lied, biting her lip. ‘I mean me. I've found out things that have made me feel differently about myself, things about my past.'

‘But I thought you never knew your aunt?' Rupert looked confused now, and Holly took a sip of her coffee before she continued.

‘I didn't.' She took a deep breath. ‘The thing is, I lied to you about my parents.'

He didn't say anything to this, merely watched as she struggled to find the words to continue.

‘My mum didn't die in a car crash. She died from choking on her own vomit after drinking an entire bottle of vodka. That was something she did most days, because she was an alcoholic.'

This was it. He was going to look at her in disgust and tell her he couldn't be with someone like her, someone with a mother like the one she'd had.

‘You poor thing.' Rupert took her in his arms again, his hand immediately coming up to stroke her hair. ‘When was this? When did it happen?'

‘When I was eighteen,' she choked out. She couldn't believe how sweet he was being. This wasn't what she'd prepared herself for.

‘You were just a child, really.' He stared at her in wonder. ‘What about your—'

‘Father?'

He nodded.

‘I have no idea who he is,' she shrugged. ‘He could be alive still, but chances are he has no idea that I exist.'

She'd expected shock, a barrage of questions and demands about why she'd lied to him, but Rupert merely held her as tightly as he could. She felt a swell of emotion rise up in her chest. All this time she'd doubted his ability to deal with the truth of who she was, but she couldn't have been more wrong about him.

‘I found her,' she told him now. ‘My mum. I came home from college one day and she was dead in a chair. Just sitting there, like she always did, but this time she wasn't there any more. I don't even remember calling the police, but I must have.'

‘You poor little mouse,' he said into her ear, his voice
cracking a bit. ‘I can't bear the thought of you going through it. I wish I'd been there for you.'

‘You're here for me now,' she smiled against his chest. There were fine hairs standing up on his arms and his sweaty fringe had dried into jagged points against his forehead. She thought about Aidan, how he'd simply sat next to her and listened as she'd told him the truth. Perhaps he thought her stronger than Rupert did, or perhaps he just didn't care as much.

‘Why are you telling me all this now?' Rupert asked. There was a slight edge of suspicion to his voice, as if he was scared to hear her reply.

‘My mum used to live here on the island.' She smiled. ‘I think she was probably very happy here too, because, well, how could you not be?'

‘Well, I dunno,' Rupert grinned at her. ‘You know I'm more of a snowy mountains boy.'

‘Something happened,' she continued. ‘Something that made my mum and my Aunt Sandra, the one who left me the house, not speak to each other any more. My aunt hinted at it in her letter and I've been trying to work out what it was.'

‘Do the locals not remember?' Rupert was frowning now as he took it all in.

‘Oh, they remember my mum all right,' she grimaced. ‘But either they don't know what the fight was about, or they're keeping it from me for some reason.' She told him about the photo of her aunt and her mum with Socrates the policeman and Dennis, the man Sandra had apparently been married to, but carefully left out the story of how she'd met Alix up at Ocean View.

‘Well, there you go then,' Rupert told her. ‘This Socrates man is the one you need to find. If he was with your mum back then, I bet he knows exactly what happened.'

‘You're probably right,' she agreed. ‘But apparently he's left Zakynthos now. I don't even know his last name.'

They sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the waves lap gently against the wooden poles of the jetty. ‘You might hate me for saying this …' Rupert took a deep breath. ‘But do you
really
need to know what happened? I mean, it all happened so many years ago – and knowing will probably only upset you even more. Isn't it best to just, you know, leave the past in the past?'

Holly considered this for a moment. It was a very good point. Why was she so desperate to find out what had happened? Perhaps Rupert was right, and it was only bound to lead to more heartbreak. She'd really found herself beginning to forgive her mum over the past few days. Hell, she even had moments where she'd felt as if she might be able to love her again. Would finding out something terrible undo all the happiness she'd managed to stitch around herself?

‘You're probably right,' she agreed at last. ‘Maybe it is unwise to pull at that thread.'

‘Speaking of threads,' Rupert took each side of her face in his hands. ‘What's all this about you being some sort of secret sewing genius?'

She pulled a face at him.

‘Oi! Don't make that face. I saw the sewing machine at the house and all the things you've been making. They're really good, Hols. Why don't you do that stuff in London?'

‘I just thought it was a bit lame,' she mumbled, realising
as she said it how misguided she had been for denying herself the indulgence all this time.

‘Listen.' He waited for her to stop staring at her toes and look at him. ‘I've always known that you hold things back from me, Holly.'

He had?

‘I just assumed that over time you'd start to thaw a bit and begin to trust me. I'm not an ogre, you know.'

‘I know.' Her voice had become very small.

‘God, I want you to be yourself and be happy – that's what I do. I would never pretend to be someone that I wasn't, not for anyone.'

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

‘If you want to sit around in your pants sewing all day long, then you should,' he declared. ‘In fact, I'd very much like to come home to find you sitting there in just your pants.'

‘Cheeky!' She gave him a half-hearted pinch.

‘I'm serious, Holly. I meant what I said to you last night. We spend pretty much every night together anyway. Why don't we just make it official?'

‘You were drunk out of your skull when you said that,' she protested. ‘You can't really have meant that you wanted us to live together?'

‘Yes, I did.' He looked at her and laughed. ‘Dear God, I'm not that scary a prospect, am I? I promise to try and put the toilet seat down and not leave wet towels on the bed.'

‘It's not that.' Holly shook her head. How could she tell him that the real reason she was reluctant was because she'd been doing all sorts of intimate and forbidden things
with another man? That she'd thought barely anything of cheating on him and lying to him?

‘But how would we? Where?' she stammered.

‘Well, you know my parents lent me a load of money to buy my place?'

Holly shook her head slowly.

‘Okay, well, they did. I'm a spoilt little rich boy, blah blah. But it means that you can come and live with me for free. I mean it, just do your sewing and take some time out until you feel better. I can look after us, after you. I want to look after you.'

Holly's feelings of confusion, shock, love and guilt tangled up inside her belly like a big, knotted pile of fluffy wool and strips of Velcro. She was afraid to open her mouth in case Rupert heard the ripping sounds as it all came apart.

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