Sleeping With A Stranger

By the time he’d circled the car, Helen had got out, too, her long legs, in the ridiculously high heels, attracting his unwilling gaze. ‘ Iseh kala?’ he probed. ‘Are you okay?’

There’d been a reluctant concern in his voice and she responded to it. Though not in the way he’d anticipated. ‘Do you care?’ she exclaimed, exposing her real feelings for the first time. ‘Do you care about anyone but yourself? Forget it, Milos. It’s too late to pretend you have a conscience now.’

Milos’s jaw dropped, but the angry retort that sprang to his lips was stifled by the sight of Melissa clambering over the seats to the front of the car.

‘Do you mind?’ she demanded as he stared at her now instead of her mother. ‘I want to get out. You’re in the way.’

Milos was too stunned by the way she was trashing his vehicle to do anything but reach for Helen’s hand with the intention of drawing her aside so that the girl could open the door.

But he’d acted without thinking, and before his fingertips could register the silky feel of her skin or the palpitating pulse at her wrist Helen had yanked her arm away, rubbing her hand as if he’d contaminated her.

‘Don’t—don’t touch me!’ she said accusingly, and for once he was grateful to Melissa’s overloud, ‘Thanks a bunch!’ for drowning out her mother’s choked words.

They’d been given rooms at the back of the villa. Pale tiled floors, high ceilings, and lots of dark wood furniture, contrasting their coolness with the shimmering heat outside. A balcony with white painted chairs and a table invited inspection, and beyond the hillside fell away to the coastal plain.

What a view, thought Helen, cupping the back of her neck with hands that were still damp from the emotions she’d felt earlier when she’d met her father’s second wife. Dealing with Milos had been hard enough, but Maya had proved another matter entirely.

It was obvious she didn’t want them here. She’d made that perfectly plain, despite her almost sickening treatment of Milos. He was evidently persona grata at the villa. They were not, and she’d wasted no time in letting them know it.

But what had really shocked Helen was the news that her father was working. Working! When she’d imagined him wheelchair-ridden or worse. That was the impression he’d given her in his letters. That he desperately wanted to see her again before he—

Before he, what? He’d stopped short at saying he was actually dying, she remembered. He’d just let her believe he was seriously ill; that he didn’t know how long he had left.

‘What do you think?’ Melissa had come to lean in the doorway of her room that adjoined Helen’s suite. For once, there was a look of uncertainty on her young face. ‘Are we gonna stay or do we just spit in his eye and catch the next ferry out of here?’

‘Melissa!’ Helen spoke automatically, but her heart wasn’t really in it. The girl was only voicing things she’d thought of herself. Was staying here really an option? Being brought here under false pretences didn’t augur well for her future relationship with her father.

‘Well, you’re not exactly enthusiastic about it, are you?’ Melissa countered. She nodded towards her mother’s suitcase. ‘You haven’t even started to unpack.’

‘And you have?’

Helen swung about to face her and Melissa pulled a face. ‘Hey, a few tees and a spare pair of jeans don’t need much unpacking. I unzip my pack, haul out my stuff, and shove it in a drawer. That’s it.’

Helen’s mouth compressed. ‘You haven’t just brought jeans and tee shirts!’

‘Haven’t I?’

Helen gave up. ‘Have it your own way,’ she said, too weary to even remember how optimistic she’d been about taking this trip. It wasn’t just for her father, she acknowledged. It was for her and Melissa, too. Anything to get her daughter away from the unfavourable influences that were making life so difficult at home.

She walked towards a chest of drawers where one of the maids had left a tray of coffee and some fresh lemonade. ‘D’you want a drink?’

‘I guess.’ Melissa regarded her wearily now, pushing herself away from the door and slouching across the room. ‘What’s up?’

‘You have to ask?’ Helen shook her head. ‘Well, let’s see, my daughter—my delightful daughter—has done her best to humiliate me; I discover the father I haven’t seen for sixteen years has been lying to me; and his wife has made it clear she doesn’t want us here. Need I go on?’

Melissa shrugged. ‘Do I look like I care?’

‘Oh, right.’ Helen took off her jacket and pulled the hem of her cream silk top out of the waistband of her skirt and used it to fan her midriff. ‘So, you’d stay?’

‘Sure. Why not?’

‘I’ve just told you that we’re not wanted here.’

‘So?’

‘So—unlike you, I don’t like confrontation.’

‘Get over it, Mum.’ Melissa helped herself to a glass of lemonade before continuing, ‘In any case, I thought you were pretty hard on Milos. If it wasn’t for him, we’d prob’ly still be standing outside in the blazing sun. Maya was in no hurry to invite us in, was she?’

‘I don’t need Milos Stephanides’s help,’ said Helen tensely, and then struggled to control herself. But the last thing she needed right now was to get into a discussion with Melissa about Milos. She was too nervous, too on edge. She might easily say something she’d regret.

Cradling the cup of coffee she’d poured herself between her palms, she moved back to the windows. Meeting him again had proved far harder than she’d ever imagined. She should have got over him by now, but she was no longer so sure she had.

And how pathetic was that?

‘D’you think he and Maya are, like, doing it?’ asked Melissa suddenly, her reflection appearing in the glass of the window beside her mother’s, and Helen turned to give her a horrified look.

‘Doing what?’ she exclaimed, but she was very much afraid she knew what the child meant. Maya had been fulsomely glad to see him.

‘Hey, do I need to draw you a picture?’ Melissa grimaced. ‘You know what I mean.’

‘No.’ Helen wouldn’t make it easy for her. ‘No, I don’t.’

‘Well, duh—I don’t mean her and your old man, do I?’

Helen stared at her. ‘You’re suggesting that Milos—that Milos and Maya might be—’

‘Getting it on?’ finished Melissa helpfully, when her mother faltered. ‘Yeah. Why not? Didn’t you see the way she was all over him? Like a rash! And he’s not married. He said so.’

‘She is.’

‘And your point is?’

Helen was emphatic. ‘No.’

‘Hello? Don’t tell me you think your queen of a stepmother wouldn’t do such a thing.’ Melissa shook her head. ‘Get real, Helen. It wouldn’t be the first time she broke up a relationship.’

Her mother was aghast, but all she could say was, ‘Don’t call me Helen.’

‘What do I call you, then? Dumb?’ Melissa groaned. ‘Mum, this guy’s a babe magnet. Just ’cos Maya’s already got a husband doesn’t mean she can’t have a bit on the side as well.’

‘Melissa!’ Helen nearly choked on her coffee. ‘You ap-pal me, you really do.’

The girl shrugged. ‘Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.’

Helen gasped. ‘She was pleased to see him, that’s all.’

‘Wasn’t she just?’ Melissa snorted. ‘Whatever. The guy’s hot. Even you must have noticed. Or have you forgotten what it’s like to—?’

‘That will do.’ Helen couldn’t listen to any more. She took a steadying breath and changed the subject. ‘Is your room nice?’

‘Nice?’ Melissa finished the lemonade in her glass and returned it to the tray. ‘You’re determined not to treat me like an adult, aren’t you?’

‘Because you’re not an adult, Melissa. You’re thirteen, not twenty-three.’

‘I’ll be fourteen soon. Why can’t you remember that?’

‘Oh, I remember exactly how old you are,’ said Helen with feeling. Did she ever? Then in a spirit of compromise, ‘So you think we should stay?’

‘Do kids have a vote?’

‘Of course, you do.’ Helen sighed. ‘I thought you might want to meet your grandfather.’

Melissa pulled a face. ‘Like I need another old man in my life!’

‘So what are you saying?’

‘Well, we’re here, aren’t we? And this place isn’t bad. And our staying will definitely get up Maya’s nose.’

Helen couldn’t prevent the smile that tugged at her lips. ‘You’re impossible!’

‘But you love me anyway,’ said Melissa, dodging her mother’s playful nudge. Then as the sound of a car accelerating up the villa reached their ears she arched a mocking brow. ‘Hey, is that who I think it is?’

Helen’s stomach contracted. She had no doubt that the car belonged to her father. Someone, Maya probably, had informed him of their arrival, and he’d evidently dropped whatever it was he’d been doing to return to the house.

Immediately, the prospect of unpacking, of doing as Melissa had suggested and staying here, lost its appeal. Dear God, what was she going to say to him? How many more lies was he planning to tell her? What excuse could he possibly make for hinting that he only had a short time to live?

Melissa, who had dashed out onto the balcony to try and see the new arrival, returned with a disappointed face. ‘You can’t see the drive from here,’ she said. ‘Do you think it’s him?’

‘If you mean, do I think it’s your grandfather, then, yes, I think so,’ said Helen tersely. And, as if just noticing her daughter’s appearance, she added, ‘Don’t you have anything more suitable to wear? Shorts, for example?’

‘Yeah, right. Like I’m going to dress like a dork!’ Melissa was disgusted. ‘And don’t take your bad temper out on me. It’s not my fault.’

Helen’s anger subsided as quickly as it had appeared. ‘I just wish you didn’t always wear black!’

‘It’s a fashion statement,’ said Melissa airily, making for the door. ‘Anyway, I’m going to see what’s going on downstairs. I don’t want that evil bitch queering the pitch.’

‘Stay where you are.’ Helen moved quickly to intercept her. ‘You are not leaving this room on your own.’ She took a deep breath. ‘And watch your language where your grandfather’s wife is concerned. Stop trying to be a poor imitation of your grandmother.’

Melissa’s cheeks turned a little pink. ‘I don’t know why you’re defending her,’ she muttered. ‘She ruined your life, didn’t she?’

‘Maybe.’ Helen wasn’t prepared to argue the point. Then, giving in, ‘Oh, give me a minute to use the bathroom and we’ll both go and get it over with.’

Melissa frowned. ‘You’re really not looking forward to this, are you?’

‘No, I’m really not.’

‘Because your old man snowed you?’

‘Because he lied to me, yes.’ Helen hadn’t the energy to go any further. She picked up her handbag and rummaged for her comb. ‘Do I look all right?’

Melissa gave her a grudging once-over. ‘Not bad for an older woman,’ she conceded. ‘Milos thinks you’re cool, anyway.’

Helen flushed. ‘Oh, right,’ she said, even though the girl’s words had given her a cheap forbidden thrill. ‘Let’s go before I lose my nerve.’

CHAPTER THREE

B EFORE Helen could reach for the door handle, however, someone knocked from outside, and her stomach took a nosedive.

‘Who is it?’ she called faintly, but Melissa simply took the initiative and opened the door.

The man who stood outside was instantly recognisable. Tall and lean, with gaunt features and thick grey-streaked sandy hair, her father looked almost as apprehensive as she did. ‘Helen,’ he said thickly, making no attempt to step into the room. ‘Dammit, I should have gone to meet you myself, instead of getting Milos to do it. I’ve waited so long for this moment. Can you forgive me for being scared I’d f—mess it up?’

Helen couldn’t move. Now that he was here, actually standing in front of her, all the years between them seemed like so much wasted space.

‘Well, say something,’ he exclaimed raggedly, and she realised he’d mistaken her silence for withdrawal.

As if growing impatient with both of them, Melissa stepped forward. ‘Hi,’ she said, regarding him with critical dark eyes. ‘I’m Melissa Shaw; your granddaughter.’ She paused, glancing at Helen. ‘Don’t mind Mum. She’s having a hard time remembering who you are.’

‘That’s not true,’ began Helen quickly, desperate not to antagonise him before they’d had a chance to get to know one another again.

But Sam Campbell didn’t let her finish. ‘I wouldn’t blame her if she was,’ he said gruffly. ‘Goodness knows, I’m not proud of the way I’ve let things drift.’ He took a breath. ‘It’s so good to see you again—to see both of you. I’ve been a fool to let Sheila call the shots all these years.’

Helen hesitated. ‘It’s not all your fault,’ she said, ignoring the rolling-eyed look Melissa gave her. ‘I was too stubborn, I guess. I wasn’t prepared to listen to you.’

‘And now you are?’

Helen made a helpless gesture. ‘I’m—older,’ she said obliquely. And then, because she couldn’t ignore the reasons that had brought her here, ‘When you said you were ill…’

Hectic colour flooded his cheeks. ‘That wasn’t true—’

‘I know that now.’

‘Milos told you?’

‘No. Maya.’ Helen saw the way his mouth tightened at the news. ‘I don’t think she wants us here.’

Sam shook his head, his impatience evident now. ‘It’s not her call,’ he said. ‘This is my house, not hers.’ He pushed nervous hands deep into the pockets of his cotton trousers. ‘I have to ask: does my deception make a difference?’

Helen lifted slim shoulders. ‘It does, of course. But I don’t know how I feel.’ She saw Melissa watching her and went on carefully, ‘Perhaps we ought to take one day at a time.’

‘Would you have come if I hadn’t pretended to be ill?’ he demanded fiercely and Helen had to admit that the answer was probably no. And, as if he was able to read her thoughts, he went on, ‘So now you know why I did it.’

‘I suppose so.’

He took a deep breath then, glancing up and down the hall outside. ‘Look,’ he said. ‘I’m sure you’re tired. You’d like a rest.’ He frowned. ‘Have you had anything to eat?’

‘We had some coffee.’

‘But nothing to eat?’ Her father nodded and glanced at his watch. ‘Okay. It’s nearly half past ten. Why don’t I have Sofia bring you some rolls and some fresh coffee? Then you can relax until lunchtime.’

‘That sounds good to me.’ Helen glanced at Melissa. ‘What do you think?’

‘Well, I don’t want to rest,’ said Melissa with her usual perversity. She looked at her grandfather. ‘Can’t I go with you?’

‘Melissa!’

Helen was about to object when Sam Campbell said, ‘Why not?’ A smile warmed his rather austere features. ‘If your mother doesn’t mind.’

Helen could think of no reason why Melissa shouldn’t go with him. ‘Um—no,’ she murmured. And then another thought occurred to her. ‘Is Milos still here?’

Melissa rolled her eyes again at this, but thankfully her grandfather didn’t see her. ‘No, he’s gone,’ he said, suddenly more cheerful. ‘Okay, Melissa, I’ll give you the guided tour, eh? And introduce you to Alex.’

‘Alex?’

Both Helen and her daughter spoke in unison and once again a momentary hesitation crossed his face. ‘Alex. Alex Campbell,’ he said with some reluctance. ‘Maya’s son.’

Melissa came back before lunch, full of herself and of the things she’d seen.

‘This is some place, Mum,’ she exclaimed, flinging herself onto Helen’s bed with a complete disregard for the silk coverlet. ‘Did you know they make wine here as well as grow the grapes?’

Helen hadn’t known that but she was quite content to let Melissa tell her all about it. Having spent the morning unpacking both her suitcase and Melissa’s backpack and taking a shower, she felt much more optimistic about the trip. If it helped to show her daughter there was more to life than skipping school and hanging about on street corners with kids whose main pastimes were smoking pot and shoplifting, she’d be more than happy.

A vain hope, perhaps, but at least it was a beginning and Melissa seemed to have enjoyed herself.

‘He took me down to the mill,’ she said, tugging on the rings that circled her ear with a careless finger. ‘It was good. He let me taste some of the wine they’d made last year.’

‘Really?’ Helen restrained herself from saying that drinking wine at her age and at this hour of the morning wasn’t very sensible. ‘So what was it like?’

‘The wine? Okay, I guess.’ Melissa didn’t sound impressed. ‘I don’t think I’m going to be an alcoholic.’

Helen breathed a little easier. ‘That’s a relief.’

‘Why?’ Melissa looked at her from beneath lowered lids. ‘Are you afraid I’m gonna take after Richard?’

‘No.’

‘Good.’ Melissa looked as if she wanted to say something more and then thought better of it. ‘Anyway, Sam treats me like my opinion matters. I like that.’

I bet, thought Helen, but all she said was, ‘Did he tell you to call him Sam?’

‘No.’ Now Melissa pouted a bit. ‘But I can’t call him Granddad, can I?’

Helen acknowledged that might be a stretch. ‘I guess not. So—did you meet Alex?’

‘Oh, sure.’ Melissa was annoyingly casual. ‘But to begin with, I had some breakfast. He was going to take me on a tour of the house,’ she added, ‘but Maya kept complaining we were getting in her way, so we got in the Jeep and went down to the mill.’

‘I see.’

‘That’s when I met Alex.’ Melissa’s lips quirked. ‘He’s cool.’

Cool? Helen couldn’t help herself. She was curious. ‘You liked him?’

‘What’s not to like? At least he was friendly.’

‘He speaks English?’

‘Yeah.’

‘So—how old is he?’

Melissa was deliberately obtuse. ‘Older than me.’

‘Melissa!’

‘Oh, okay.’ Melissa rumpled her hair. ‘He’s not your brother, if that’s what’s worrying you. He’s twenty-six. Maya was like you. She was only seventeen when Alex was born.’

It was a couple of days later when Milos decided to check up on Sam’s house guests.

It wasn’t anything to do with him, he knew, but something drew him back to the vineyard. It was easy to tell himself that, as he’d collected them from the ferry, he felt some responsibility for their well being. But the truth was, Helen and her unlikely daughter intrigued him. He wanted to know more about them. He wanted to know more about her .

Sam was having a late breakfast when he arrived. Milos guessed his friend had already been down to the winery to check on developments there, and now he was enjoying a lazy repast, seated at the table that had been laid in the shade of a clump of lemon trees.

‘Milos,’ he exclaimed, when the younger man emerged from the shadows of the villa. ‘This is an unexpected pleasure. Will you join me?’

‘For coffee, only,’ said Milos, shaking the other man’s hand and urging him to resume his seat. ‘I was—passing, and I thought I might enquire how your daughter and granddaughter are enjoying their holiday.’

‘Oh…’ Sam pulled a wry face. ‘Well, I think Helen is glad of the break. She’s had a pretty tough time since her husband was killed. Richard—well, Richard seems to have been a bit of a waster, if you ask me. Why else would Helen have had to give up her own home and move back in with her mother unless money was tight?’

Milos wasn’t sure he wanted to hear this. Talking about the man who had lived with Helen all those years aroused mixed emotions inside him. It wasn’t that he was jealous, he assured himself. How could you be jealous of a dead man? But the fact remained, he didn’t like the sound of Richard either. Was he the reason Melissa was so obviously out of control?

Maya emerged from the house at that moment and both men rose automatically to their feet. A swarthy, attractive woman in her early forties, she was of medium height, but rather generously proportioned. She tended to wear long flowing skirts that disguised her figure, yet the blouse she’d chosen revealed a liberal amount of cleavage. She was a distant cousin of Milos’s mother, and she never let him forget that they were related.

‘I thought I heard voices,’ she exclaimed, coming towards them and reaching up to bestow a wet kiss on Milos’s cheek. She spoke in her own language, which she much preferred to English. ‘I didn’t know you were here, Milos,’ she went on reprovingly. ‘Sam, haven’t you offered our guest some refreshment?’

‘I have, and he only wants coffee,’ replied Sam, sinking back into his own chair. ‘Perhaps you’d ask Sofia to fetch some, Maya? This pot is definitely getting cold.’

Maya’s lips tightened. ‘Just call and she’ll come, Samuel,’ she retorted impatiently. ‘She has little enough to do, goodness knows.’ She turned to Milos again. ‘It’s so good to see you.’ She tapped his arm in a playful gesture. ‘You don’t visit half often enough.’

Milos managed a polite disclaimer, but he was beginning to think he’d made a mistake in coming here. He doubted Maya would approve of his reasons for doing so. She’d made her feelings very plain the morning Helen and her daughter had arrived. And Helen herself was unlikely to be glad to see him. He remembered the tension that had been there between them on that drive up from the harbour.

‘He’s come to see Helen,’ Sam put in then, settling the matter. ‘Where is she, Maya? I haven’t seen her this morning.’

‘That’s because she doesn’t get up as early as we do,’ declared Maya crisply. She turned a smiling face to Milos again. ‘Will you stay for lunch?’

‘Oh, I don’t—’ Milos was beginning when Helen herself appeared from around the side of the villa, and Sam rose eagerly to his feet.

‘Well, here she is,’ he exclaimed, reverting at once to English. He went to meet his daughter with evident pleasure. ‘We thought you weren’t up yet.’

‘Did you?’

Helen had a smile for her father, but then her eyes moved beyond him to where Milos and Maya were standing together. Her lips tightened, as if she’d attributed that misapprehension jointly to both of them, and Milos felt his own instinctive rejection of her assumption.

Struggling to remember why he was here, he managed a polite, ‘ Kalimera ,’ separating himself from his cousin almost involuntarily. ‘How are you?’

Helen took a visible breath. ‘I’m fine, thank you,’ she said, the slim hand she used to check the upswept ponytail at the back of her head revealing a nervousness she was trying hard not to show.

But Milos noticed. Noticed, too, that in a sleeveless top and navy shorts she looked younger, less on edge. The sun had already touched her skin with a rosy glow, and, although he suspected the hectic colour in her cheeks owed more to her mood than the climate, it suited her.

‘ Kala ,’ he said now. ‘Good.’

‘Milos wondered how you were settling in.’

Once again Sam chose to move the conversation on, and Milos saw the way she responded to this news. It was hardly flattering.

‘Really?’ she said, as if she didn’t believe him, and Maya clicked her tongue.

‘Greek men are sometimes too considerate for their own good,’ she remarked pointedly, and Helen gave her stepmother a studied look.

‘Do you think so?’ she remarked casually, and Milos realised she’d already got Maya’s measure.

‘I think so?’ said Maya shortly, and although Milos had sympathised with Helen’s attitude her words caught him on the raw. Dammit, they’d been lovers. She was acting as if they were total strangers.

‘Have you been for a walk?’ asked Sam, not allowing the hostility between the two women to deter him, and Helen turned back to her father with another warm smile.

‘I was just in the garden,’ she said. ‘There are so many exotic flowers here and Melissa was showing me the fountain.’

‘Melissa’s with you?’ Sam looked back the way she’d come. ‘Where is she?’

‘Poking her nose where it is not wanted, I expect,’ murmured Maya, barely audibly, but Helen’s ears were sharp.

‘I think we’re all guilty of that at times, don’t you?’ she countered, before turning back to her father. ‘She’ll be along presently. She’s discovered a litter of kittens behind a water barrel and she’s absolutely entranced.’