The Innocent's Shameful Secret Read online

  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.

  CHAPTER TWO

  SHE SUPPOSED SHE ought to move. Go back to the store and buy some of the clothes she’d seen. The absolute minimum would do and was all she could afford anyway.

  But being accustomed to living on not much could stand her in good stead if her life changed in the way she hoped.

  Not ‘if’, she told herself, but ‘when’.

  And in celebration, she recklessly ordered another iced coffee.

  How strange, she thought, when she’d been watching Janet Forbes so closely, admiring her classroom technique, her patience and ability to engage the children, and keep them interested and focussed, that, all the time, Mrs Forbes had been watching her. Deciding to encourage her into teaching.

  Not blackmail her into it.

  She’d been sixteen, quietly delighted with her GCSE results when Aunt Nora had dropped her bombshell. Informed her that all her university expenses would be paid a
s long as she, and eventually Millie, too, agreed to teach at Meade House after graduation.

  Otherwise, Selena could forget the Sixth Form and college, leave her comprehensive school and find a job.

  ‘I had to settle your late parents’ debts as well as bearing the costs of your upbringing,’ her aunt had stated coldly. ‘I expect to be repaid, Selena. And Amelia, of course, will have to do the same.’

  She paused, allowing that to sink in. ‘And kindly stop looking as if your death sentence had just been pronounced. At Meade House, you and your sister will be guaranteed a continuing home, careers and security. A little gratitude would not come amiss.’

  How am I supposed to look, Selena had wondered, when every plan—every dream I had of getting away from Haylesford and being my own person—has been virtually knocked on the head?

  For a moment, she’d been prepared to say To hell with it and take the risk, but she knew that she could not make choices that would also affect the future of fourteen-year-old Millie. That was neither right nor fair.

  And once her agreement had been obtained, however unwilling, there had been a perceptible easing of Aunt Nora’s strict regime, leading eventually, inevitably to Millie being permitted her Greek holiday with her friends.

  Selena had found a vacation job in a cafe, one which turned out to be short-lived because one showery July day her aunt slipped and fell in her garden and ended up in hospital with a broken leg.

  Aunt Nora, ensconced in a comfortable private room, received her sourly. ‘They won’t allow me to go home until I’ve mastered using these crutches.’ She gestured disdainfully to where they stood, propped against the wall. ‘But even with them, I’m going to require help, and Amelia, of course, is leaving for Greece in ten days’ time.’

  Lucky Millie, Selena thought grimly.

  As she’d suspected ‘patient’ was hardly the word to describe her aunt, who kept her on the run from first thing in the morning until last thing at night, with the help of the little handbell she kept beside her at all times.

  In addition, Millie had fussed endlessly over her packing, claiming exclusive access to the washing machine and ironing board, and providing Aunt Nora with another excuse to grumble.

  It was almost a relief when Mrs Raymond arrived with Daisy and Fiona to drive them all to the airport.

  One less problem to handle, Selena thought, as she closed the front door.

  ‘Dr Bishop says I shall need physiotherapy when the plaster is eventually removed,’ her aunt announced the following week. ‘He has given me a list of reliable practitioners who pay private visits.’

  ‘Isn’t it available on the National Health Service?’ asked Selena.

  ‘Not to the extent that I shall require,’ Aunt Nora said coldly. ‘Dr Bishop says it was such a serious fracture that I shall probably have to learn to walk all over again.’

  Selena thought drily that Dr Bishop, rightly nicknamed Old Smoothie by Millie, excelled at telling her aunt exactly what she wanted to hear, and hoped the physio would have more sense.

  And, talking of Millie, apart from an initial text announcing that Rhymnos was great, they’d heard nothing from her.

  Still, she decided, philosophically, the parents of Daisy and Fiona were probably in the same boat, and, anyway, wasn’t no news supposed to be good news?

  She’d been into town the afternoon the girls were due back, taking a list of her aunt’s requests to the public library. She expected Millie to have arrived when she got back, yet there was no clutter of luggage in the hall.

  The flight must have been delayed, she thought, then heard her aunt calling her, her voice high and angry, and found her sitting upright, two bright spots of colour in her cheeks emphasising her unusual pallor.

  She checked, the terrible memory of her parents’ accident striking at her, making her feel sick to her stomach with fright. ‘Has—has something happened?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Her aunt’s voice shook with fury. ‘Your sister, it seems, has involved herself with some local yob on that island and decided to stay there—to set up house with him. Apparently she’d gone from her hotel room this morning with all her things. The other girls had to leave without her.

  ‘Well, I won’t have it. I will not allow her to disgrace me, to make me ridiculous in front of the whole town—a child of her age. However there’s nothing I can do about it, so you’ll have to go over there and bring her back.’ She added ominously, ‘Before too much harm is done.’

  Selena sank down on the nearest chair. Typical, she thought bitterly, that her aunt should see the situation in terms of personal disgrace rather than the danger to Millie and the potential ruin of her future.

  She said, ‘Who is the man? Do Daisy and Fiona know?’

  ‘It seems he’s the barman at the Hotel Olympia where they were staying. His name is Kostas.’ Aunt Nora pronounced the name with acute distaste then held out a piece of paper that had been crumpled in her hand. ‘She left this note.’ She shuddered. ‘Mrs Raymond could hardly look me in the eye. I blame her entirely for allowing this trip in the first place and then badgering me to let Amelia be part of it.

  ‘But that, of course, won’t stop her telling the entire town what’s happened. She’s probably already started.’

  Selena read the note frowningly. Millie said simply that she was not coming back to England because she loved Kostas and was staying with him.

  So, not much room for negotiation there, she thought.

  ‘As you can see, there’s no time to lose.’ Aunt Nora was regaining some of her old briskness. ‘So, you go there, you find her and you bring her back. That’s all there is to be said.’

  She added decisively, ‘I will not have my plans for the future of the school wrecked by some childish infatuation. Men like this barman should be locked up.’

  Selena tried to reason with her, pointing out that Millie was not a child and it might be better to let her realise her mistake and return of her own accord.

  And how, she asked, would her aunt manage without her, only to discover that Aunt Nora had already booked a live-in carer.

  ‘Terribly expensive,’ she’d said sourly. ‘I hope Amelia realises the inconvenience she’s causing.’

  But nothing Selena said made the slightest difference, which was why, only two days later she found herself on board the ferry from Mykonos with the harbour at Rhymnos already in sight.

  She was in no mood to appreciate the attractive scene it presented, with its tangle of caiques and motor cruisers, and beyond them the row of tavernas and shops fronting the waterside.

  And above them, on the hillside and not nearly as impressive as its name, picked out in large blue letters on the white walls, stood the Hotel Olympia.

  Enemy in sight, thought Selena grimly as she picked up the big canvas satchel that served as her luggage and slung it over her shoulder.

  As she came ashore she was assailed by a chorus of whistles and other bids to attract her attention by the young men mending fishing nets or waiting on tables at the tavernas.

  No wonder Millie, released from the kind of purdah existing at Meade House Cottage, had been such easy game for an unscrupulous local, she thought.

  Daisy and Fiona, with obvious reluctance, had volunteered a few details—his full name, Kostas Papoulis, young, good-looking, full of himself, and—with a shrug—sexy.

  Besides, Daisy had added with faint malice, she hadn’t thought that he was that interested in Millie. Just—playing around.

  Selena wanted to slap her. Hard.

  On the other hand, if this had also occurred to Millie by now, it might make her own task much easier.

  The short walk up to the hotel was blisteringly hot, and she began to think longingly of iced water.

  From the road, a path led up through borders bright with flowers to a terrace running the length of the frontage, and a pair of glass doors.

  The foyer was light and airy, with a marble floor and a polished reception desk, currentl
y unattended.

  But Selena headed straight for the door labelled ‘Bar’, immediately opposite, and, drawing a deep breath, she walked in.

  Once again, it seemed entirely deserted. Where was everyone? she wondered, as she looked about her. It was as if the entire establishment had been abducted by aliens.

  Which the aliens could have done with her good wishes, she thought, just as long as they hadn’t taken Millie.

  But as she hesitated, she heard above the hiss and bubble of the coffee machine on the end of the counter, an unmistakable chink of bottles coming from behind a curtained doorway at the rear of the bar itself.

  She walked to the counter, sliding her bag from her shoulder to the floor, and coughed loudly. When there was no immediate response, she followed it up with an imperative, ‘Hello.’

  The curtain was swept back, and a man appeared, clipboard in hand, his frowning gaze scanning her impatiently.

  Selena found she was staring back, hoping she didn’t look as shocked as she felt because he bore little resemblance to the arrogant young stud described by Daisy, or any of the grinning lads she’d encountered at the harbour.

  For one thing he was clearly older, probably in his late twenties, tall, swarthy, and in need of both a haircut and a shave, with a lean muscular body clad in jeans and a faded red polo shirt that emphasised the easy strength of his chest and shoulders.

  Not conventionally handsome, she thought, aware her throat had suddenly tightened, his dark eyes brilliant, the nose and chin strongly marked, the mouth cool and sculpted with a firmness that suggested he was very much in charge of himself and his surroundings. Someone with—presence. And more.

  She thought, Oh, God, Millie, you stupid, stupid girl. He’s miles out of your league. What have you done?

  He broke the silence, his voice deep and resonant as he addressed her in what was apparently German.

  She said, ‘I don’t understand,’ and saw his scrutiny sharpen and become more searching.

  If you’re thinking I could be trouble, you’ve got it in one, she informed him silently.

  His English was excellent, with only a faint trace of an accent. ‘I apologise for my mistake, thespinis. I was misled by your hair.’ His gaze rested on the gleaming pale blonde mass tumbling over her shoulders, and for a startling moment, it was as if he’d touched it. Run his fingers through the length of it.