‘I ought to get back.’ Charlotte reclaimed the hand that was warmed by his brief touch. ‘I have to make a phone call. To my mum,’ she added, because, though it didn’t quite fit with her polished party-girl image, she didn’t want him to think she was racing back to tell Nico. ‘You can use mine.’ He pulled out a slim phone from his pocket and she was about to decline, to head back to the safety of her suite, to work out what on earth she should do, but the sky was so gold and her hand was still warm from his touch, and for reasons better left unexamined she did not want their walk to end.
‘It’s international …’ Her voice petered out along with her excuses, because the cost of a phone call would hardly be a problem to him. ‘Thank you.’
Politely he walked on ahead and took a seat on a rock by the water’s edge as she spent a moment locating the number and being put through.
It was heartbreaking. The confusion in her mother’s voice, the pleading with Charlotte to come and save her, to bring her home, had Charlotte biting back tears as a nurse came onto the phone.
‘It might be better if you don’t talk to her just before bedtime,’ the nurse gently suggested. ‘It unsettles her for a couple of hours after she speaks with you.’
‘So it’s better that she thinks I’ve forgotten her?’ Charlotte retorted, and then apologised. “I’m sorry to snap, I just …’
‘It’s so hard on you.’ The nurse was incredibly kind. ‘If she was here permanently it would be different, but she’s only with us for a few days and the change of surroundings is so unsettling, it just disorientates her all the more when you call. Why don’t you ring and speak with the staff to find out how she is?’
It took a moment after hanging up to compose herself enough to join Zander, but he must have seen the glimmer of tears in her eyes because after a moment he spoke.
‘You’re close to your mum?’
‘I don’t know,’ Charlotte admitted, though she had never done so before, her head still spinning from the emotion of speaking with her mother. ‘I don’t know if we’re close or just bound …’ She took a deep breath. This was not the professional conversation she was supposed to be having with him, but surely she wasn’t being indiscreet in speaking about herself. Surely it was safer than speaking about Nico. And on this particular evening, knowing her mother was scared and in tears and that there was nothing she could do about it, it was easy to talk. Not that she would reveal her mother’s illness to him, for she had been badly burned doing so in the past—the look of horror on her boyfriend’s face when she had invited him in one night and he had witnessed the chaos that was her life, and another fledgling relationship that had ended before it had really begun when she had told him of her plight. Charlotte had long since learned where to stay quiet.
‘She had me when she was older …’ Charlotte said a couple of moments later, soothed by the company and the view, her ankles dangling in the water. The sky was a glorious riot of orange. She had front row seats to a show she loved, but this was surely the best one ever, the colours so vivid, the ocean so majestic. ‘I think at first she wanted my dad to leave his wife …’ She hadn’t really told anyone this, but it was so good to talk and have someone answer. Too used to her own thoughts, it was so nice to finally share a part of herself, though she chose not to tell Zander everything, chose not to reveal all of her plight. ‘She was my father’s mistress. He was from London, which was why she moved there. I think she thought if she had a baby that he’d …’ Charlotte gave a shrug. ‘Well, it didn’t work—he wanted a mistress, not a mother. He didn’t leave his wife, didn’t come and see us.’ She gave a wry smile, for her mother had never let her forget just how much she had given up for her child. ‘I always thought he’d come and live with us one day.’
‘Did your mum?’
‘Not in the end. By the time I was at school she’d long since given up.’ Charlotte shook her head. ‘She just got more bitter. I always dreamt he’d come and find us. She said that I lived with my head in the clouds …’
‘Clearly you were intended to,’ Zander said. ‘Forty thousand feet up in them.’ And she smiled, because he had listened, really listened, and then the smile on her face faded, because she was looking at him and he was looking at her, and it was more than talking and sharing. There was more, and in that moment she knew it but forced herself to deny it, changed the conversation, for they could not sit staring endlessly, and if they did, for even a moment longer, he would kiss her. He would kiss lips that were waiting, would be accepting, but he did not move.
‘What about you?’ Her voice did not break the spell.
‘I live with my feet on the ground,’ Zander said.
‘Your parents,’ she asked. ‘Do you still see your mother?’ There was so much she wanted to know, so much Nico was desperate to find out, but, sitting there, it was not Nico she was asking Zander the questions for but herself. She wanted to know him, but it was her question that broke the moment, her words that ended the kiss that never was.
‘I live in Australia,’ he said, which wasn’t really an answer. He turned away from her and looked out to sea, changed the subject along with the mood. ‘The sunsets are spectacular here,’ he said, because they were. Whatever he felt about Xanos, that much was at least true.
‘The sun doesn’t set,’ she said. He turned again to look at her, but she did not return his gaze, just stared out into the distance. ‘It’s just an illusion. We’re the ones moving.’ Now she did turn, saw him frown and she smiled. ‘It messed with my head a bit when I read it, but it’s obvious really—given that the sun never moves.’
He looked back at the ocean, to another truth that was a lie, to a different way of thinking, and it messed with his head too.
‘But, yes,’ Charlotte said, ‘it’s very beautiful.’
And they sat in silence, with separate thoughts but more comfortably together. Usually when she looked to the sky she wanted to be up there, just not this evening, not this time, for now, in this moment, she was happy where she was. Then, when he stood and offered his hand, she took it, let him lead her back, and they walked ankle deep through the lapping water and she was glad to be beside him.
There was no moon and it was growing too dark for idle walking, but as they passed the beach café he did something she never thought he would. There were no fries at the upmarket beach café, but he bought two souvlakis, not for them. They stood on the beach as it grew colder and darker and fed the gulls, and she laughed like she hadn’t in a very long time as the hungry, frantic birds swooped and swirled around. They headed back to the hotel and as he located discarded leather shoes and slipped them on his invitation was not unexpected. ‘Let me take you to dinner.’
‘I really …’ She wanted to say yes to him, so badly she wanted it, but she had to speak with Nico first. It was with true regret that she declined. ‘I’m actually rather tired. It’s been a busy day, I might just get room service …’
He was skilled enough with women not to push.
An utter gentleman, he walked her back to the hotel foyer and even windswept and with the bottom of his trousers damp with sea water and sand, he was easily the best-dressed man there. There was an effortless elegance to him that needed neither shirt nor tie nor black credit card on show, he was easily the most beautiful. ‘Nico is going to be stunned when he sees you.’ Of that she was certain.
‘Then tomorrow let’s work out together how best to surprise him.’ He saw her swallow, knew she was torn, and he moved to assure her. ‘I did not want to tell him over the phone. I want to see his face when he realises we have found each other. Perhaps tomorrow you will say yes to joining me for dinner?’
The bar was in full swing; beautiful couples and stunning singles were everywhere, and a piano was playing a gentle invitation. He saw her eyes drift towards it, knew he could perhaps secure a drink, and then dinner, and then who knew? But he was far cleverer