One Summer Night. Carol Marinelli
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as a child.
‘We will,’ Charlotte said. ‘We could feed the seagulls, maybe?’ And she saw her mother smile, saw her eyes and face light up, and even if they would never get to the beach again, would never feed the seagulls together again, her mother’s smile was worth the fib.
And it was worth it, Charlotte told herself as she dragged herself through another week. Worth putting her life on hold to take care of her mother, although deep down she knew it couldn’t go on much longer.
That she couldn’t go on much longer.
But, then, like a lifeline came the call.
Mid-afternoon, and not at all his usual time, her heart leapt when she saw that it was Zander. She answered with a smile, anticipating the summer of his words, except his tone was brusque, businesslike.
‘Could you pass on a message to Nico?’
‘Of course.’ She glanced at the clock and tried to work out the times. It must be four in the morning where Zander was.
‘I am going to be in Xanos next week. I fly in late Sunday and my schedule is very full, but if you can arrange a meeting with your boss, I have a small window at eight a.m. on Monday. We are moving into the next stage of the development in the coming weeks. I want to discuss with him, before the purchase goes ahead, our plans for that area. He might not be so keen and I don’t want him wasting my time later with petitions.’
‘I’ll let him know.’ She waited, waited for the conversation to change as it always did, to slip back to where they spoke about them—but it didn’t. Zander rang off and Charlotte rang Nico and relayed the message, but as she hung up, she felt like crying. Knew that once Zander met with Nico, her part in this would be over—that the brief escape his calls had bought would finally come to an end. When Nico rang a few moments later she had to force herself back into business mode.
‘How good are you with Greek planning permission laws?’
‘Are there such things?’ She smiled into the phone, but it faded as Nico spoke on.
‘Exactly. Anyway, I’ve got Paulo onto it, but I’m going to need you in Xanos next week.’
‘Me?’ Charlotte blinked and then wished she hadn’t for in that instant her mother wandered out to the hall; Charlotte walked briskly, catching Amanda as she fiddled with the catch on the front door.
‘Do you really need me there?’ It wasn’t a no, but it was as close as she dared.
‘I wouldn’t ask otherwise. I’d like you to visit a couple of homes for me, go through some records …’ Since Nico had found out he was adopted, Charlotte had been helping him to find his birth mother, but it had all been through telephone calls and online. She had chosen not to tell him about her problems with her own mother: PAs dealt with their boss’s problems, not the other way around. He’d asked her to join him in Xanos a couple of months ago, but that had just been for a day. The carer she had hired had informed her on her return that her mother required too high a level of care. For any future trips Amanda would need to be cared for in a home. ‘Is there a problem?’ She knew he was frowning. Nico was not a man used to hearing the word ‘no’, and certainly not from his PA.
‘Of course not.’ Charlotte swallowed. ‘I just need to sort out a few things at this end, but I’ll do my best to be there on Monday.’
‘Actually …’ Nico sounded distracted. ‘If you can get in earlier, perhaps the weekend, we can go over a few things. Book in at Ravels and ring me when you get here.’
‘Sure,’ Charlotte said to thin air, for Nico had already rung off. She had to speak to him when she saw him, had to somehow tell her formidable boss that travel was practically impossible. But what if he insisted? Charlotte closed her eyes at the prospect. She needed this job, needed the wage, needed the flexibility working from home provided—maybe she would have to factor in an occasional trip.
She already had a list of nursing homes drawn up. Charlotte had visited several, riddled with guilt each and every time, for her mother had, on her diagnosis, pleaded with Charlotte to never put her in a home. Now she rang them, asking if there were any respite beds available, her anxiety increasing as she worked her way through the list and each time the response was the same. Far more notice was required.
Finally she found one. A resident had died overnight, and there was a spot available. It felt wrong to be relieved, wrong to be packing up her mother’s things, wrong to be driving a distressed Amanda to the place she dreaded most in the world.
‘It’s just for a few days, Mum.’
‘Please …’ Amanda sobbed. ‘Please don’t leave me. Please.’
‘I have to go to work, Mum.’ Charlotte was crying too. ‘I promise, it’s just for a little while.’
All it felt was wrong—to sit in the chair at the beauty parlour and be waxed and manicured, to have foils put in her thick blonde hair. Wrong to think of her mother sobbing in a home as she transformed herself back into the glamorous flight attendant Nico had hired.
But there was a flutter of excitement there too as she pulled out her old wardrobe and packed in her efficient way.
And there was that pit-in-the-stomach thrill as she drove the familiar route to Heathrow airport, saw the jets coming in and heard the high-pitched roar as they took off.
And then, as she sat in her seat, as the plane lifted off the ground and up to the sky, as she looked at the flight attendant facing her and wished she could be her, there was that moment at take-off she would forever adore, the surreal moment where the plane seemed to quiet and you gathered your thoughts. And only then did it actually dawn on her.
She was going to meet Zander.
ATHENS had been as grey as London, but flying towards Xanos it was as if the clocks had been rewound to autumn. Certainly it would not be as warm as the summer, but the sky was as blue, as was the ocean, and Xanos lay stretched out in the distance, a vivid tapestry of greens and browns. The vineyards laced the mountains and the stunning hotel development stood on the foreshore, gorgeous buildings carved into the cliff side, glittering blue infinity pools that matched the blue jewel of the ocean. She could not wait to land, to sink her feet in the golden sands and to drink in Xanos.
The seaplane came in, not beside the small jetty her boss craved to own but to the newly built, rather more sophisticated one. A ramp made disembarking far easier than it had been the last time Charlotte had visited Xanos, and because anyone who stayed at Ravels must be someone, though she would have loved to, she was not expected to make the short walk from the jetty to the hotel. Instead, she was swallowed by a huge car and driven the short distance into the development, escorted to check in and told that her bags would be taken straight to her room.
Usually she was not intimated by grand surroundings. She had worked long enough with the airline and later with Nico to sample fine hotels and luxury travel, but, though she did her best not to show it, Charlotte found this hotel somewhat overwhelming. Some of the guests who moved through the foyer she recognised from the magazines she devoured. A huge elevator was situated beside a grand staircase, separated by a fountain. There were lavish floral displays at every turn, wealth and opulence in every view; it was hard to believe the hotel had just been in operation for a few short months.
Checking in went smoothly; there was a message from Paulo, Nico’s lawyer in Greece, asking her to contact him, and Charlotte declined the receptionist’s offer of a booking in the restaurant. She would rather eat alone in her room. Swipe card in hand, she wandered through the hotel, not quite brave enough to have a drink at the bar; instead, she headed for her room, bouncing on the huge king-sized bed and revelling for a guilty moment in the feeling that tonight she would not have to sleep with one ear open in case her mother awoke, that she had a little time to herself.