My Map of You (24 page)

At 5 a.m., they found themselves dancing in a club right back at the end of the strip, the shuttered windows of which faced out across Laganas bay. The DJ played
cheesy 80s tunes from his booth inside a speed boat, and girls dressed in little more than dental floss clambered up to twerk on the bar. Holly had never been anywhere like this in her entire life, but it was impossible not to get caught up in the slightly wild atmosphere.

‘I love you!' bellowed Rupert through the fog of dry ice and dancing limbs.

Holly blew him a kiss in return, spinning round to dance with a man wearing a bright green mankini.

‘I mean it,' he slurred again, snatching thin air as he reached out for her hands and missed. ‘Come and live with me!'

Holly laughed at him. ‘You're so drunk,' she yelled over the music. ‘You don't know what you're saying.'

Rupert laughed then too, more at himself than Holly, and went back to pirouetting around a nearby pillar. By the time the music was turned off and the shutters came up, the sun was starting to rise over the sea.

‘I'm going to find some water,' Rupert muttered, leaving Holly on the beach and stumbling drunkenly off around the corner. She slipped off her shoes and sat down, pulling her knees together and digging her toes through the damp sand. The sun was still half-obscured by the sea, but she could already feel the powerful heat of it as dapples of amber light skittered across the water.

As she breathed in the dawn air and relished the feel of the cool sand on her hot feet, Holly realised for the first time just how lucky she was to be here. It was the most beautiful place she'd ever seen and she, scrappy little Holly Wright, who spent her teenage years on a grubby estate in South London, owned her very own slice of it.

She knew she loved the place, but what about the people? Or, to put it more accurately, the person. How the hell was she meant to have known what would happen when she came over here? All she'd wanted was some answers about her aunt, not to fall head over heels for a scruffy Irish vet. She felt as if her last vestiges of control were ebbing away like dry sand into the waves. How could she have let things get to this stage?

She thought about her friends back in London and the friends she'd made in the brief time she'd spent on the island. She counted Rupert, of course, and she had Aliana, but her younger friend was skittish, immature and probably never going to be someone that Holly trusted with her secrets. She didn't really consider Rupert's group of pals as true friends, either, but that was probably her own fault. Hadn't she been putting on a mask for years, only ever presenting to the outside world a careful, manufactured version of herself? Friendships didn't come naturally to Holly, but being here on the island had taught her how good it felt to be a bit more open with people, and that if you could only find it within yourself to share a little bit, the rewards from others would be enormous. Aidan had taught her that. But so had Kostas and Annie and Nikos – people here just exuded a warmth that was absent back in London.

Thinking about Aidan again made her grimace with discomfort. She wondered if he'd even bothered to come back that night, or whether he was hiding out somewhere until the Rupert-shaped storm had passed. Holly was torn between her longing to see him and the gut-bubbling fear of what would happen if she did.

‘Darling, I come bearing gifts!'

It was Rupert, back from his trek to the shop and brandishing bottles of water and ice lollies.

‘Is that our breakfast?' she asked, forcing her black mood back into its box. ‘I bet there's somewhere open on the strip already if you fancied a fry-up?'

If she stalled for another few hours, with any luck Aidan would have left for work before they made it back to the house.

Lost in her own thoughts, feelings and fears, Holly failed to notice the jeep parked at the far end of the beach. As they passed by the driver's window and made their clumsy way back into the heart of Laganas, Rupert swung a lazy arm around Holly's shoulders and pulled her close to him for a kiss.

The
soft hum of the sewing machine was almost soothing after the thumping music of the Laganas nightclubs. Holly had tried to sleep when they'd got back to the house, but the combination of her still-ringing ears and still-unsettled heart meant that slumber was impossible. The Insomnia Troll had sat up on her chest as he always did, waggling his finger as if to say, ‘Ignore me all you like, I'm not going anywhere.' After a few hours of tossing and turning in the small corner of bed that Rupert wasn't sprawled across, she had given up and retreated downstairs to her beloved new toy.

As she worked on an intricate dress that she'd started making with more of the lace that she and Aidan had picked up on their first day out together, Holly felt her anxiety start to lessen. It was so much easier to listen to her thoughts when her hands were busy, and the monotonous action of running the beautiful, delicate material under the needle was proving extremely therapeutic. If only she'd known this years ago. She'd never have shelved her hobby so ruthlessly if she had understood just how much it helped her to relax.

Despite this revelation, she was still stubbornly refusing to dwell on the subject of Aidan. Instead, she thought about her mother and Sandra, suddenly remembering the photo she'd discovered in the bathroom. It already felt
like ages ago – so much had happened in such a small space of time.

Holly waited until her work reached a natural stopping point before switching off the sewing machine and gathering her things. It was about time she found out more about the other people in that photograph – and she had a feeling that Kostas would be able to help. He seemed to know everyone around here, and her short time on the island had already taught her that the Greeks were nosier than even the most intrepid of tabloid journalists.

‘Do you know who these men are?'

Kostas rubbed his eyes and peered at the photo, squinting as a shaft of sunlight filtered in under the shop blinds.

‘Yes!' he exclaimed, looking very pleased with himself.

Holly waited.

‘This is Dennis!' he told her, pointing at the man next to Sandra.

‘This,' the same finger hovered uncertainly for a few seconds. ‘I think this is Socrates. Maybe he was a policeman.'

‘Sorry,' Holly gave the photo back to him. ‘Do they live here, in Zakynthos?'

Kostas pulled a face. There was a coffee stain on his grey beard.

‘No,' he said eventually, crossing his arms as if to end the subject.

‘Do you know where they are?'

‘Ah, Dennis go to Kefalonia.' He swung an arm back up in the direction of the house. ‘He move there many years ago.' He shrugged again. ‘I do not know Socrates, but I have not seen him for many years. Very many.'

‘This is my mother,' she told him, pointing at Jenny.

At her words, Kostas' big Greek eyes suddenly filled with tears and he came out from behind the till to envelop her in a whiskery hug.

‘I am very sorry for you,' he growled softly into her ear. ‘I remember your mother. She was – how you say it – crazy, but very good in her heart.'

Holly took a gentle step backwards. ‘And this man, Dennis?' she said again, pointing at the photo. ‘Was he with …?'

Kostas' eyes widened as he realised her meaning. ‘No,' he interrupted, crossing his arms again and shaking his head. ‘Dennis, he was with Sandy. Yes, Sandra. I think maybe he marry her.'

Sandra had been married? This was news to Holly. Before she could ask what had happened to split them up, however, Kostas reached across and took her arm. He looked at her very sheepishly, then said, ‘Your mother … She was with many men. Greek men, English men, German men, Swedish men. I think this man also,' he pointed at Socrates the policeman and shook his head sadly. ‘I am sorry.'

So it was as Holly had suspected – it was looking increasingly likely that her father had been one of many men that her mum picked up when she was living here, which meant he could still be alive somewhere and not locked up abroad as Jenny had claimed – although how would Holly ever find him? Chances were, he didn't even know that she existed.

‘It's okay,' she told Kostas, who was still looking downcast. ‘My mother was no angel.'

‘No,' he agreed, but he was smiling again now. ‘No angel, but a very good heart.'

Holly left him and walked slowly back up the hill towards the house. Kefalonia was the closest island to Zakynthos, so perhaps it wasn't beyond the realms of possibility that she might be able to locate Sandra's ex, Dennis. Perhaps Annie would know more about him and Socrates? Dennis might not even know that Sandra had passed away, and whatever the circumstances of the presumed break-up, he had still been with her for a time. He should be told about what had happened.

She was just about to turn off on to the path when the sound of an approaching car engine made her freeze. Aidan's jeep scattered dust as it pulled up next to her, and she took a deep breath, daring herself to turn round and face him. Aidan, however, was not alone.

The passenger door opened and Phelan leapt out, burying his nose straight in Holly's crotch.

‘Phelan!' she cried, at exactly the same time as the occupant of the passenger seat. Holly's eyes widened in horror as two very long, very slim, tanned legs appeared, followed closely by a tiny waist, flat stomach, blindingly white smile and a mass of dark red curls.

‘Hi,' said the girl, holding out her hand to Holly.

Holly shook it, but could only gape at her while trying to pry Phelan's snout off her nether regions.

‘Phelan, off!' Aidan slammed the jeep door and stalked round to join them. The buttons of his shirt were done up wrong, Holly noticed, and he looked worn out.

The red-haired beauty giggled and hooked her arm through his.

‘Did you leave Lexi in the jeep?' he asked, prompting the girl to yelp with alarm. Turning her back on them, she quickly opened the door and scooped up the puppy that Holly had rescued during the storm.

‘Isn't she just the cutest?' she asked Holly now, holding the little mutt against one of her flawless cheeks.

‘Yes,' was all she could force out. She sneaked a look at Aidan, but he was staring resolutely at the ground.

‘I'm Clara,' the redhead said, as it became apparent that Aidan wasn't going to make the introductions. She had a very faint Irish accent.

‘Holly.'

There was an awful, drawn-out silence, during which Clara looked from Aidan to Holly with increased confusion. He seemed unable to move, and Holly could see a muscle moving in his cheek.

‘Right. Anyway, we should get going then, Aidan? It was nice to meet you, Holly,' she said over her shoulder as they walked round the corner. Holly tried not to burst into tears as she watched Aidan snake a casual arm round Clara's shoulders. Whoever this goddess-like creature was, she certainly knew Aidan very well – and he seemed very comfortable with her too. Holly remembered what Annie had told her about Aidan's ex looking like a model, and what Aidan himself had told her about how much the break-up had affected him. Was this her? Had Clara seen sense and come back to claim her man? Holly had no idea, but she did know one thing: she was very, very angry.

‘Rupert! Rupert, wake up!'

‘Whaaaa?' he mumbled. He'd fallen diagonally across
the bed when they'd got in at 8 a.m. that morning and hadn't moved since.

She stopped nudging him and lifted his arm instead, inching her way underneath it until her face was right next to his.

‘Babe …' she breathed. ‘Make some room for me, would you? I need a cuddle.'

This had the desired effect. Rupert opened a lazy eye and looked at her, a small grin starting to spread across his face. Snuggling a bit closer, Holly discovered that even a whole night spent devouring wine, beer, cocktails and all the free shots that Laganas had to offer apparently had no effect on this man's libido. He had propped himself up on one elbow now and was impatiently tugging down her shorts.

Holly closed her eyes and sighed. This wasn't what she'd wanted at all, but how could she reject him again? She pictured Aidan doing the same thing to the stunning Clara – lifting her up so she could wrap those insanely long legs of hers around his waist, running his hands through her hair and kissing the soft part of her neck – and her reluctance started to crumble. Perhaps this was exactly what she needed, to reconnect with her boyfriend. Rupert had flown all the way over here because he missed her, while bloody Aidan had led her to believe he had real feelings for her and then flaunted his gorgeous ex-girlfriend in her face. She couldn't believe she'd been so stupid – trusting a man she'd known for a few days over her sweet and devoted boyfriend. Forcing herself to concentrate on Rupert and what he was now doing to her, Holly buried her face in the pillow and let the sheets catch her tears.

It was long past lunchtime when Holly and Rupert finally made their way downstairs. Excited by the sunshine streaming in through the windows, Rupert took his beach towel straight out into the back garden and arranged himself on the sparse grass.

‘Do you want a drink?' Holly asked, hovering nervously by the open doors.

‘Beer, ta!' Rupert beamed at her.

‘I meant water or juice,' she muttered, but went back inside to fetch one for him anyway. She felt wretched. After their sweaty and hurried session in the bedroom that morning, Rupert had promptly fallen back to sleep, leaving Holly to toss and turn with a mixture of hopelessness and frustration. She couldn't stop picturing Aidan with Clara, and she hated him for making her feel so horrible, despite the fact that she knew it made her the biggest hypocrite in the whole of Greece – possibly the world. She looked around now at her little house, at the curtains she'd sewn and hung in the small windows, at the flowers she'd arranged on the table by the sofa and the pictures she'd dusted down and put up on the bare walls – the place really looked like a home, which meant that someone would definitely want to buy it. The realisation of what she had to do next burst into her mind with deafening clarity: she needed to stop living in this silly bubble – it was time to sell this place and go back to London. And the sooner she could get it done, the better.

With a renewed sense of determination, Holly marched back outside with a beer only to find Aidan and Clara standing there, chatting away to Rupert like it was the most normal thing in the world. Rupert was staring
unashamedly up at Clara, but she could hardly blame him – Aidan's ex was now wearing a microscopic red bikini top and white denim hot pants. Aidan himself was standing slightly to one side, but Phelan – the traitor, Holly thought with a stab – had his shaggy head firmly against Clara's bare thigh.

‘Oh, there you are, Holly,' she said now, turning as the door clanged shut.

Why the hell was she acting like they were best friends all of a sudden?

‘Here I am,' Holly replied, not managing to keep the disdain from her voice. Rupert, who'd shifted to a sitting position, raised his eyebrows a fraction at the exchange.

Clara, however, seemed oblivious to the frostiness, even though Holly was pretty sure that if anyone came within three metres of her at that moment then they'd probably be turned to stone by the ferociousness of her loathing. She didn't dare look at Aidan, mostly because she feared what she would do if he flashed that mocking grin of his. Why was he torturing her like this?

‘We're heading over to Porto Limnionas for a spot of lunch,' Clara was now telling them. ‘You guys are welcome to come, if you like? I'm sure we can make room in the jeep, right, Aidy?'

Aidy? AIDY?

‘We've got our own plans,' Holly cut across just as Rupert was about to open his mouth. ‘But thanks.' The last part was said with such insincerity that even Phelan pulled a face at her. She had better be more careful.

Clara looked a bit crestfallen, so Holly hurriedly explained that she'd left her moped in Kalamaki and was
taking Rupert with her to collect it. It hadn't been her plan at all, but it sounded convincing enough. Plus, she did want to get her bike – she needed it to ride into Zakynthos Town for her appointment with the estate agent.

‘Have a great time,' Rupert called out slightly wistfully, as Aidan and Clara disappeared round the side of the house.

‘He wasn't very friendly,' Rupert said after they'd gone, making Holly think back to the first day she and Aidan had met and the stupid argument they'd got into.

‘I hardly know him,' she lied. ‘And I only met her this morning.'

He was staring intently at her now, and Holly started to shift around uncomfortably in the dust.

‘Come on,' she told him, taking hold of Rupert's hand and giving it a squeeze. ‘Let's get the hell out of here.'

In the end, it took them over an hour to walk down the beach from Laganas to Kalamaki, mostly because Rupert kept stopping to reapply sun cream on his reddening shoulders. He held her hand until the heat of the afternoon made their palms too sweaty, but he never strayed far from her side. He'd always been fairly tactile, but Holly had never known him to be quite like this. Could he sense that she'd slipped away from him?