The Villa (5 page)

But this wasn’t a diving holiday. This was a journey for Tess – to see where her mother had grown up, maybe even to find out why she had left and never gone back. Sicily. The Secret Place. To see the house that had somehow miraculously dropped in her lap at what seemed now to be a perfect moment. What would it be like? And what would she do with it?

But leaving Ginny wasn’t her only reservation. There was Muma too, who minded terribly, she knew. What little her mother had said about growing up in Sicily over the years had dropped from her lips in unexplained fragments, tantalising morsels that were pure temptation for Tess – just like the food in her mother’s kitchen. Why hadn’t Muma ever wanted to visit the place and people of her childhood? Tess had just about given up trying to find out. Her mother was too stubborn for words.

‘And Robin says he’ll go with you?’ Lisa put in.

‘We’ve booked the flights.’ Tess was so relieved she could say this.

‘Good,’ said Lisa, sounding worried.

‘You don’t approve?’ Lisa had met Robin for drinks at Tess’s on a few occasions and she had pronounced him charming. To her friend’s credit, she didn’t judge Tess – at least nowhere near as harshly as Tess judged herself. Tess had never seen herself as the sort of woman to have an affair with another woman’s husband. Most of the time she managed not to think about the ghostly Helen, or when she did, she remembered the things Robin said when he complained about her. He only stayed with her for the sake of the children, of course.

‘It’s not that.’ Lisa took a slug of her wine.

‘What then?’

Lisa threw her a glance over her shoulder and wiped her hands distractedly on the elephant apron. ‘I just want you to get what you deserve,’ she said. ‘A good relationship – with a special man.’

‘And Robin isn’t special enough?’ Tess said defensively, although part of her knew what Lisa meant.

‘A man who’s available,’ Lisa said. ‘One who can give you the whole works.’

Tess raised an eyebrow. She knew what was coming. And she always tried not to mind.

‘Love, security, commitment. You know.’

‘Yes, I know.’ The things that Tess tried to pretend – especially when she woke up at four in the morning, alone – that she didn’t long for.

‘But … ’ Lisa was kind and already trying to backtrack. ‘At least this time—’

‘I can’t wait to go away with him,’ Tess said in a rush. ‘And to Sicily … It means so much to me, Lisa.’

‘I know, love.’ Lisa came over, put an arm around Tess’s shoulders. ‘Only …’ She sighed.

‘What?’ Lisa was her best friend. But sometimes she didn’t want to hear the truth. Sometimes she wished Lisa could … well, just lie a little.

‘Only why such an about-turn when he’s said he can’t go away with you before? What’s changed?’

Her voice was mild enough, but when Tess looked up, she was surprised to notice her deep frown. Even Lisa then, couldn’t understand. It wasn’t that Robin was treating her badly, it really wasn’t. It was that basically he was a nice man and he couldn’t bear to hurt them – his children, his wife of twenty years. Who could blame him for that? It wasn’t as if he’d intended to fall in love with Tess.

She was about to say some of this, when the back door opened and Mitch came in looking crumpled and weary. ‘What’s this?’ He threw his briefcase on to the nearest chair and loosened his tie. ‘Two beautiful women here to greet me?’ He kissed them both. ‘I hope you’re staying to dinner,’ he said to Tess.

As if in reply, her mobile bleeped. ‘Ginny probably,’ she said, pulling it out of her bag. ‘And I’d love to – I’ve seen what went into the chilli. But I can’t. I’ve got a casserole in the slow cooker at home.’

But it was a message from Robin, not Ginny.
Sweetie. Can we meet for a quick drink? Your place or the Black Rabbit?

Tess felt the shiver of anticipation. She really should get back home. But … Supper was already prepared and cooking. There was plenty of time. Would a quick drink at the Black Rabbit (ten minutes out of town, the kind of place none of her friends, or more to the point Helen and Robin’s friends would go) do any harm?

‘Robin?’ Lisa must have caught her expression.

Tess nodded. Swiftly, she texted back
OK, C U at the B R in 15 minutes
.

Lisa was still watching her as Tess tossed the phone back in her bag, pretending a casualness that she didn’t feel. ‘Take care, love,’ she said.

Back at home, Tess followed the direction of Vampire Weekend to where the music was loudest – Jack’s room, so called because an orange-and-yellow striped giraffe five feet tall and made of raffia, named Jack, was in residence there. Ginny was stretched out full length on the sofa, revising. Or something.

‘I’m just popping out again,’ Tess shouted. ‘Be back in an hour, max.’

Ginny nodded in time to the music. ‘Go for it, babycakes.’

Tess nodded. She would.

In the car, driving towards the riverside pub, she found herself wondering what Lisa had meant when she said …
What’s changed?
Nothing had – had it? Unless Robin had finally realised that he had to give something more to their relationship in order to keep it alive.

It was just after seven when she drove into the car park and did a rapid inspection of the cars there, just in case. No one she knew – and no Robin. The life of the mistress – you always have to drive yourself and you do a lot of waiting. She sighed. There was an upside – though it was easy to forget this sometimes. Life with Robin was exciting. Sex was
exciting. She still had her freedom; she could be as selfish as she wanted to be – most of the time. She didn’t have to cook or clean for him. When he saw her it was because he truly wanted to see her. He was generous, he was kind and he made her laugh. So …? She checked the mirror and saw the brightness in her eyes, felt the lurch of anticipation in the pit of her stomach. Why did she long for it to change?

‘She’s arranged a weekend at her parents’,’ Robin said. ‘I started to tell her – about going away … ’

He had arrived five minutes after Tess, looking rushed and unhappy. Kissed her, then got straight to the point. Before he spoke, she knew already.

‘And?’ Tess felt cold inside. Couldn’t a weekend with Helen’s parents be put off till another time? She wished she’d ordered a large glass. She was driving, but right now she didn’t care. What story had he planned to tell Helen, she wondered. A business trip? A jolly with a few well-chosen lads who wouldn’t give away his secret?

‘She thought it would be a nice surprise.’ He ran his hands through his hair. He was looking more ruffled than she’d ever seen him.

‘So?’ He was about to cancel Sicily for a weekend at Helen’s parents? It didn’t make sense.

‘She’s booked a meal out. Theatre tickets. All arranged.’ He spread his hands and frowned deeply. ‘It’ll mess everything up if I’m not there.’

And Sicily wouldn’t be messed up if he wasn’t there? Tess
took a breath, realised she was gripping her wineglass so tightly she was in danger of snapping the slender stem. She put it down. ‘I’ve booked our flights.’ God, she sounded calm.

‘I know.’ For the first time he lowered his gaze. ‘But I can’t get out of this, Tess. It’s not only Helen – it’s her parents too.’

‘Why can’t you go some other weekend?’ Tess took another gulp of wine. Wondered if some women were born to be mistresses and some to be wives. ‘Restaurant and theatre bookings can be cancelled. It’s hardly the end of the world.’ To her own ears she sounded cool. She had begun to separate herself from him, she realised. Already. She was creating distance to decrease hurt, because that was how it worked. And she wouldn’t plead. She had told herself from the start that she would not be a demanding, whining mistress, always wanting more (though she did). She would be sexy and fun and take what he was willing to give (which was no longer enough). ‘Why should it matter when you go?’

He wouldn’t look at her. ‘You don’t know Helen’s parents.’

Tess shrugged. ‘What? Do they have some sort of power over you or something?’

She’d said it flippantly, bitterly even, but immediately realised she’d hit a raw nerve. He sighed, took a deep draught of his beer – only a half she’d noted, clearly it was indeed a quick drink on his agenda.

‘It’s not just Helen, I mean that’s part of it. But it’s the money too,’ he said.

‘Money?’ Tess felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle. They at least knew that she was about to hear something she wouldn’t like. ‘What money?’

‘Well, you know they’re loaded, sweetie.’ This time he smoothed his hair down. He was so much the clean-shaven, neat-suited businessman … Usually it made her laugh – they were such opposites. But today it just made her sad. Because it was true. They were such opposites. How had she hoped to make them fit?

‘No.’ Why would she? And what did his in-laws’ financial status have to do with anything? Tess didn’t like the way this was going.

‘Well they are. Very much so.’

Was she missing something here? Tess fought the urge to scream – loudly. ‘But … ’ She was confused. ‘Surely you and Helen are financially independent?’ He had a job, didn’t he? He had a large house (she’d driven past it several times, couldn’t resist seeing where he spent so much of his time without her), a nice car. He wasn’t an avaricious man – was he? He wasn’t money-grabbing. Well, was he?

He laughed without humour. ‘Who is financially independent these days?’

Tess stared at him. She realised that in their time together they had rarely talked of money because there was no need. They had no bonding bedrock of joint finances and practical concerns. If they went out to dinner he always insisted on paying. She cooked for him and gave him drinks at home. Other than that, was else was there? Presents given from one
lover to another …? Money had never been an issue. Why would it be? The disappointment was eating into her now. Robin wasn’t coming to Sicily. He had let her down again. He would never be around for her when she needed him. Or even when she didn’t need him, but simply wanted him.

‘You have a mortgage, don’t you, sweetie?’ he asked. He had never asked her that before.

‘A small one, yes.’ Her parents had helped her get on the property ladder when Ginny was born, and she still owed some on the house. It was a bit run-down and not in the best area of town, but it was comfortable, it had character and it was hers. But for God’s sake – why were they talking about mortgages?

‘Well, I’m pretty tied in to Helen’s folks,’ he said. ‘She likes to live well. And there’s no way I could afford our lifestyle on my salary.’

‘I see.’ She was beginning to. This explained why Helen didn’t work. And other things besides. ‘So when they click their fingers, you have to jump.’

‘It’s not quite like that.’ He grabbed her hand. ‘But I do have to be careful.’

She looked down at his neat white cuffs, at his skin where the dark hair curled from under his shirt. She pulled her hand away. ‘It’s all right,’ she said. Though it wasn’t. ‘I understand.’

‘Tess … ’

‘I understand your priorities. You’ve made the whole thing perfectly clear.’

‘Tess.’ His voice was low and urgent. Usually she liked it that way, but not now. ‘Don’t you know I’d give anything to come with you? If it was possible—’

‘It is.’ Tess couldn’t believe how calm she felt. How detached. ‘Or at least it was.’ She stood up. ‘But you’ve made your decision.’ And she had too much pride to try to make him change his mind.

He stood up too. Took her arm. ‘When you come back … ’ he began.

Tess looked at him straight. ‘No,’ she said.

‘We’ll talk.’

Tess said nothing.

‘I’ll make it up to you, sweetie.’

Once again, she pulled away. ‘Goodbye, Robin.’ Walked out of the pub – not too fast, not too slow. She was worth more than that, wasn’t she? She got into the car. Started the engine. She wouldn’t cry. Damn him … Why should she cry? You cried when you lost something didn’t you? But he’d never been hers to lose, had he? And he sure as hell wasn’t now.

Flavia dried her hands on the tea towel and walked slowly from her kitchen through the back door into the garden. It was just past midday and the sun was warm on her bare arms. It would be warmer though in Sicily, she thought, pausing by the herb patch where the mint was already running riot – as it did every year. Every year she meant to uproot it, cage it within the confines of a pot, but every year she couldn’t quite bring herself to do it. Nature had destined it to be wild and free – who was she to demand otherwise?

She checked her watch. Tess would be on her way. The plane would be flying over France by now. What would her daughter be thinking as she looked out of the window to the cloud below? Was she excited – or wary of what might lie ahead?

From the pocket of her apron, Flavia drew a notebook and a pen. She untied the apron and slipped it off, folded it neatly and placed it on the wooden patio table. Lenny had gone out – he was meeting one of his old friends for lunch. So she had the house and garden to herself. She looked around her in satisfaction. Their garden was small – but colourful and well maintained; Lenny saw to that. It was strange that gardens were considered so vital in England, where it was so
grey – though she had grown used to the climate over the years; weather being the least of her worries. Still … she settled herself into her chair. She missed the dense blue of a Sicilian sky. Missed the sweet summer heat, though she often used to curse it.

‘I’ll be thinking of you,’ Flavia had told Tess before she left. And of Sicily.

She sat down and opened the notebook.
You have to tell the story in order to let it go
. Well, she was going to give it a try. She would try to write what she couldn’t say. Tell the story about the girl called Flavia who seemed now so distant, so lost. It was time.

My Darling Tess
, she wrote. Where to start? From the beginning, she supposed. From that day when it had happened, when it had all begun.

It was July. And hot, very hot. She remembered the heat of the sun on her back, burning into her neck as she stooped, sticking the thin white blouse to her skin. She remembered pushing back her thick hair with the back of her hand, the hand stained from the tomatoes …