The Innocent's Shameful Secret
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Sara Craven
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16,5K
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HarlequinChapter One
SELENA SAW THE letter as soon as she opened the front door, the blue airmail envelope unmissable against the brown matting.
She halted abruptly, recognising the Greek stamp, her stomach lurching as a sudden image blazed into her mind of tall bleached columns rearing into an azure sky, with a pool of grass hidden among the fallen stones at their feet. And the soft murmur of a man’s voice in the sunlight, and the brush of hands, lips and warm, naked skin against her own.
She gasped, the plastic carrier bag she was holding slipping from her numb fingers, sending the lemons it contained bouncing and rolling down the narrow hall to the foot of the stairs.
Before she realised almost in the same instant that the untidy scrawl on the envelope could only be Millie’s. No one else’s. And alarm was replaced by growing anger.
Nearly a year of silence, she thought, her throat muscles tightening. And now—what? Another diatribe of recrimination and accusation with the pen scoring the paper just as her sister’s furious voice had scraped across her flinching senses in that last disastrous telephone conversation?
‘It’s all your fault,’ Millie had accused tearfully. ‘You were supposed to help—to put things right. Instead you’ve behaved like a brainless idiot and ruined everything for both of us. I’ll never forgive you, never, and I don’t want to see you or speak to you again.’
And the phone had gone down with a crash that sounded as if it was in the next room rather than hundreds of miles away in a taverna on a remote Greek island.
Leaving her with the knowledge that there was little she could have said in her own defence even if Millie had been prepared to listen. That she had indeed behaved like a fool and worse than a fool.
But she’d suffered for what she’d done in ways that Millie could not even imagine, or was determined to ignore.
Because since that phone call, there’d been nothing. Until now...
She was sorely tempted to leave the letter lying there. To step over it and walk into her living room and begin the new life that had filled her thoughts on the bus journey home.
Except it wouldn’t just go away. It wouldn’t disintegrate or vanish on a breeze. And, in spite of everything, curiosity would be bound to get the better of her in the end.
She bent stiffly and picked up the envelope, walking through the living room, and tossing it on to the worktop in her small galley kitchen, before filling the kettle and setting it to boil.
She’d originally planned to make a jug of fresh lemonade, clinking with ice, and enjoy it in the warmth of her tiny courtyard. A quiet celebration of this unexpected fresh start.
Now what she needed instead was a caffeine rush, she thought bleakly, taking the jar of coffee and a beaker from the cupboard.
While the kettle was coming to the boil, she went back to the hall, collected the lemons, and put them in the fruit basket.
Idiotic, she told herself, to panic like that. Needless, too. Had she really thought, even for a moment...?
No, she told herself harshly, her hands clenching into fists. You do not—not—go there. Not again. Not ever.
She made her coffee strong and carried it outside, settling herself on the elderly wooden bench in the shadiest corner, making herself recap the previous events of the morning and try to recapture something of its optimism.
She had been alone in the classroom, taking down the wall display for Mrs Forbes and putting it in a folder while she considered rather anxiously how she should occupy the unpaid six week summer break ahead of her, when her reverie was interrupted by the arrival of Mrs Smithson, the head teacher.
She said briskly, without preamble, ‘Lena, we heard last week that Megan Greig has decided not to return after her maternity leave. Her job as teaching assistant has therefore become a permanent instead of a temporary post, and the staff and governors agree with me that it should be offered to you.’ She gave Selena a brief, friendly smile. ‘You’ve worked very hard and become a real member of the team at Barstock Grange. We all want this to continue, especially Mrs Forbes, and hope you do, too.’
‘Well—yes.’ Selena was aware she must sound dazed, having expected to be once more jobless and probably homeless by Christmas. ‘That—that’s terrific.’
This time, Mrs Smithson’s smile was broader and tinged with relief. ‘Then we’re all pleased. You’ll be sent official confirmation in the next week or so. And—see you next term.’
Selena’s state of euphoria had lasted throughout her journey home and the short walk to her tiny terrace property. Until, that was, she’d opened the door...
She didn’t need to be subjected to another rant, she thought wearily, or, indeed, to the other possibility—a request to borrow money.
If so, she’s going to be disappointed, she told herself, because I’m skint.
Besides, I need to concentrate on my own priorities, like looking for somewhere else to live where children and animals are allowed.
She and Millie had always wanted a pet, she remembered, but Aunt Nora would never agree, clearly believing that two orphaned nieces were sufficient responsibility.
And, considering what had happened, perhaps she’d been right.
Over the years, it had become clear to Selena that Miss Conway had offered her late sister’s children a home more from a sense of duty than any warmer feeling, family visits having been few and far between. But, as she got older, she’d realised that her aunt’s decision owed an equal amount to self-interest.
Her valued role as a pillar of local society in Haylesford might have taken a serious knock if word had got out that she’d allowed her nieces to be put into care. A lot of people might have felt that charity should begin at home.
Having experienced it, Selena wasn’t so sure. Eleven years old, shocked and wretched with the loss of her parents, killed in a collision with a hit and run driver, it hadn’t seemed to matter where she and Millie went, or what happened to them, as long as they were together.
Although they were as different as chalk and cheese, physically as well as temperamentally.
Millie, two years her junior, was a golden girl, small, curvaceous and pretty, her hair a deep, rich blonde which curled slightly. Selena was tall and on the skinny side of slender. Her eyes were grey to Millie’s blue, and her skin much paler than her sister’s peaches and cream complexion.
But the big difference was her hair, almost at the silver end of the spectrum, and totally straight, spilling halfway down her back, even when confined to the thick braid insisted upon by Aunt Nora.
Hair like moonlight...
Oh, God, she thought, as memory stabbed at her suddenly, viciously. Not dead as she’d believed and hoped, but brutally alive.
She sat rigidly, her nails digging into the palms of her hands as she tried to force that particular memory back into the oblivion it deserved.
No one would ever say it to her again. She’d made sure of that long ago, leaving the long silky strands on the floor at the hairdressing salon in Haylesford in exchange for a gamine crop with feathery tendrils framing her face and giving emphasis to her high cheekbones.
Yet another difference between us, she thought, as she made herself think about Millie again.
She looks like Mum, and I take after Dad’s side of the family, she reflected, swallowing past the lump in her throat. He always claimed he had Viking ancestry and that’s where our colouring came from. On the other hand, he tended to wing his way through life like Millie, while my mother was the steady, sober member of the partnership. As I believed I was.
But whatever the reason for Aunt Nora’s reluctance to take them on, it couldn’t be a dislike of children because she ran a private junior school for girls and a very successful one, catering for those needing extra help to pass the examinations for their very expensive senior schools, or, as it was known, a crammer.
Not that she and Millie were ever enrolled at Meade House School, even though they were both under thirteen. Instead, they were both placed very firmly in the state system.
Her long-term plans for them, however, she’d kept to herself, Selena thought drily.
She drank some more coffee, wondering why she was re-treading these well-worn paths all over again. Especially when she’d told herself the best way to survive was to shut the door on the past. Think only of the future.
Or was this simply deliberate prevarication? Delaying the moment when she’d have to deal with Millie’s letter, still in the kitchen, silently demanding her unwilling attention.
Time to get it over with, she decided as she finished her coffee and went indoors.
The single piece of paper inside the envelope looked as if it had been ripped from a small notebook.
‘Lena’ Millie had written. ‘We have to talk. It’s an emergency, so please, please call me.’ She’d added the telephone number, including the code, and signed off ‘M’.
Short, but not too sweet, thought Selena. And it’s almost certainly about money because Rhymnos is bound to be having its share of economic problems.
Or has her life on a small Greek island already palled and could this cry for help involve a one-way ticket back to Britain?
But to do what—and to live where? Well, hardly here, that was for sure, sharing a cramped bedroom with a three-quarter-sized bed, not to mention a shower room not much bigger than a cupboard.
And apart from some undistinguished GCSEs, Millie had no qualifications for any career except bar work or waitressing. And she’d probably had her fill of both by now.
Surely she can’t imagine there’s a remote possibility that Aunt Nora’s been in touch and all is forgiven?
If so, dream on, Millie, she thought. She’s out of our lives for good and all.
And why didn’t you ring me if it’s all so urgent? Especially as I sent you my number along with the address.
She realised she’d crumpled the letter in her hand, and smoothed it out again on the work surface.
The phone number Millie had given clearly demonstrated that she was still living with Kostas at his taverna, named Amelia in her honour. But maybe that was only temporary.
And although it was tempting to take the coward’s way out and pretend the letter had never come, Millie was, in spite of everything, her sister and wanted her help.
She said aloud, ‘I can’t let her down.’
Steeling herself, she picked up the phone. It was answered on the second ring. A man’s voice.
She kept her voice cool and steady. ‘Kostas? It’s Selena.’
‘Ah, sister, you have called.’ Across the miles, she could hear the relief in his tone. ‘How good to hear you. But I knew it would be so. I told my Amelia that she must not disturb herself with worry.’
‘Things have obviously been—difficult for you all,’ she said. And that’s putting it mildly.
‘Po, po, po. Now we look for better times.’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Of course.’ She paused. ‘Is Millie around? Can I speak to her?’
‘At this moment, no, sister. The doctor has ordered she must rest, and she is sleeping.’
‘The doctor,’ Selena repeated, frowning. ‘You mean she’s ill? What’s wrong with her? Is it serious?’
‘I cannot say. It is a woman’s thing, and she feels scared and very much alone.’ He hesitated. ‘My mother is here, of course, but—it is not easy, you understand.’
I bet, thought Selena, remembering Anna Papoulis in her unrelieved widow’s mourning, her headscarf framing her sharp face with its narrow-lipped, bitter mouth set in resentment of her son’s foreign bride.
However, it seemed as if the marriage was surviving, which was some relief.
‘It is you that she wants. Again and again she says it, and she weeps.’ His tone became eager. ‘If you would come here—be with her for a while—she would soon be better. I know it. And there is a room for you here with us. I prepared it in hope.’
She was shocked into silence. And disbelief.
Rhymnos, she thought. He actually thinks I can go back to Rhymnos? After everything that happened? He must be crazy.
‘No,’ she said at last, her voice harsh. ‘That’s impossible. You know it is. I—I’m needed here.’
‘But things are different now,’ he persisted. ‘You have nothing to fear, sister. People have gone,’ he added, his voice heavy with meaning. ‘The island has changed. You will be safe here. Safe with us.’
I thought I was safe before. Believed Millie was the one in danger. Yet I was the one to be betrayed and I still have the scars.
He went on quickly, ‘And my Amelia wants so badly to see you—to be with you. I cannot bear for her to be disappointed.’
No, she thought. That’s how it all began. Because Millie mustn’t be disappointed. Because two of her classmates were having a holiday in Greece, for the first time without their parents, and asked her to go with them. And she cried when Aunt Nora said, ‘At seventeen? Absolutely not.’
Tears on their own probably wouldn’t have worked, but reinforcements arrived in the shape of Mrs Raymond, mother of Daisy, whose idea the trip had been, and, in her way, as formidable as Aunt Nora.
‘I think one has to allow them some independence at their age,’ she’d pronounced majestically. ‘Demonstrate that we trust them. After all, they’ll all be off to university next year.’
Daisy and Fiona, perhaps, Selena had thought drily. Millie—only if she started doing some work.
‘And Rhymnos is only small and quiet, not crowded with nightclubs, which means fewer opportunities for mischief,’ Mrs Raymond had added. ‘The hotel, too, is family run and has a good reputation. The girls are so keen for Millie to go with them, and she’s bound to be disappointed if she’s left behind. Besides, there’s safety in numbers, you know.’
It all sounded too good to be true, Selena had thought with sudden unease, hoping that Aunt Nora would stick to her guns.
But, albeit reluctantly, she’d eventually agreed, leaving Selena to shrug and decide it was none of her business.
Which only proved how wrong it was possible to be.
Because, suddenly and incredibly, it had become her business, turning her entire life upside down.
Kostas was speaking again. ‘If it is a matter of cost, I shall happily pay the airfare to Mykonos, and the ferry transfer. I ask only that you come to us—for Amelia’s sake. She hopes so much to see you.’
She said crisply, ‘That was hardly the impression she gave when we last spoke.’
He sighed. ‘But in all families, sister, things are said in anger and then regretted. And I am relying on your compassion for a sick girl.’
Selena bit her lip. Put like that, she thought, she could hardly refuse. And yet she was aware again of that odd sense of unease. Although, he’d said things had changed...
But I haven’t changed, she thought. I know that now. And perhaps I never will until I have the courage to face my demons and put them finally to rest. And maybe that time has come.
She took a deep, painful breath. ‘Very well, Kostas, I’ll come as soon as I can get a flight—which I will pay for myself, thanks all the same. I’ll be in touch when I have the details.’ She added, ‘And wish Millie well for me.’
She occupied the rest of her day with some heavy duty housework, trying to ignore the small voice in her head telling her that she’d clearly learned nothing from her past mistakes and was, once again, behaving like an idiot.
Because she knew how doubtful it was that Millie would make the same concessions for her, if their positions were reversed.
But she could probably live with herself, she thought drily. Whereas I couldn’t—especially if this illness of hers turns out to be something really serious.
And, in that case, what kind of medical attention could Millie expect in so small a place?
If she needs to come back to England with me, I’ll deal with it, even if it means finding an even bigger place.
She decided to have an early night, in view of all she had to do the following day, hoping, too, that sleep would silence that little warning voice—at least for a while.
As she undressed, she embarked on a mental list of what she’d need to take with her to Rhymnos, remembering that the high summer temperature could soar to forty degrees plus.
Reaching for her nightdress, she glimpsed herself in the wall mirror and paused, wondering if the events of the past year had altered her in any significant way. But, apart from her severely shorn hair, her critical gaze could see no real change. Her breasts were still high and rounded, her waist small, her stomach flat and her hips gently curved.
I look, she told herself ironically, almost untouched. And found her laugh turning into a sob.
* * *
She spent a wretched, restless night and was sorely tempted, when her radio alarm went into action, simply to silence it, pull the covers over her head and stay where she was.
The coward’s way out, she thought wryly as she swung her feet to the floor and headed to the shower.
Her first visit was to the letting agency, to register her new requirements, followed by a wander round a cheap and cheerful fashion store which still had a few pairs of cotton cut-off pants, tee shirts and even a one-piece swimsuit available in her size and within her limited budget.
Working on the premise that she wasn’t sure how long her stay would last or if she’d be returning alone, she booked a single flight at the travel agency, and bought some euros, knowing she would have to use them carefully because she could afford no more.
But her most difficult task was still ahead of her, she reminded herself as she emerged into the street, subjecting her, no doubt, to more disapproval and more pressure. Except this time, she’d have a positive response to make. An actual workable plan for the future.
She heard her name called and turning saw Janet Forbes coming towards her smiling.
‘I’m glad I’ve seen you,’ she said. ‘I was planning to get in touch anyway and have a chat, over an iced coffee maybe, or are you too busy?’
‘No, that would be great.’
They went to a cafe with a veranda overlooking the river, its banks busy with families sunbathing, eating ice cream and feeding the ducks.
‘I wanted to say how delighted I am that we’ll be working together again next year,’ Mrs Forbes began as they sipped their coffees under the shade of the awning.
‘Megan was a nice girl and very conscientious, but I always felt that she was simply filling in time. Whereas you...’
She paused. ‘I wondered if you’d ever considered getting a BEd and becoming a teacher yourself, because I’d say you were a natural.’ She added swiftly, ‘Not that I want to lose you, of course. Please don’t think that.’
Selena was all set to declare herself perfectly happy with her lot. Instead, to her own astonishment, she heard herself say, ‘I did start training but got no further than the second year.’ She forced a smile. ‘Family problems.’
‘Well, that’s a great shame.’ Mrs Forbes gave her a thoughtful look. ‘You could always go back to it, you know. It’s never too late to start again.’
That, Selena thought, is what I keep telling myself. Maybe it’s time I believed it.
‘One day, perhaps,’ she said. ‘I mean, I’d love to, but right now I have—other priorities.’
‘Well, do bear it in mind for the future.’ Mrs Forbes got to her feet, collecting her bags. ‘I hate to see talent wasted.’ She patted Selena on the shoulder. ‘Maybe when your family problems are behind you.’
Except, thought Selena, watching her go, you don’t know the half of them. And I can never tell you, or anyone else, what happened two years ago.
Or that I’m still struggling with the aftermath.
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