As evening surrenders to night, I sit on my terrace, the table surrounded by twinkling tea lights. In front of me are my fruits of the sea, marinating in lemon juice, garlic and olive oil. I snap a photograph and then flick through the others I took earlier. Theo hauling a net, silver fish suspended in motion as they frantically jumped, leaping for a freedom they wouldn’t find. His arms tense, taking the strain against the mass of water.
Desire registers again in the pit of my stomach. I feel foolish for expecting him to kiss me. It’s better he doesn’t – I seem to abandon all restraint when I’m with him. He’s looking at the camera, his white teeth shining and those mesmerising eyes … I make a collage of the sardines, Theo fishing, and one of the castle, and post on Instagram:
@sophieskitchencatering: #catchoftheday#
I smile to myself. Yes, he is!
Within a second of my pictures going live, my phone rings. It’s Tasha and she doesn’t wait for me to greet her.
‘Excuse me, catch of the day helpline? Yes, I would like to report a very serious offence.’
‘Hello, darling, I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.’ I giggle like a schoolgirl.
‘Catch of the day, my foot. Christ, catch of the century! My hormones are raging and that delicious snack you shared has got me going.’
‘Oh, you mean the sardines?’ I ask with faux innocence.
‘You know exactly what I’m referring to, Sophie Kinlock!’
‘Yes, I suppose he is rather easy on the eye. It’s Theo, in case you hadn’t guessed.’
‘Duh! Now spill … what exactly were you doing on his boat?’
‘I ran into him while I was out and he invited me.’
‘Aaand?’
‘And nothing … we had some food, did some fishing and now I’m back home.’
‘Home is here in London, actually, in case you’d forgotten while gallivanting with Neptune – no, that’s Roman – with Poseidon. And you’re expecting me to believe that’s all that happened?’
Her hormones must be rampant, as she’s being quite snippy. I don’t want to say anything about the almost kiss, as I’m confused. I know he wanted to kiss me, but something stopped him. And I’m trying to contain my lust because I need to remember why I’m here. But he is all I can think about. I catch myself grinning and am thankful this isn’t a video call, as Tasha would suss me straight away.
‘Yes! That’s all I have to say. Although …’
‘What?’ she gasps in anticipation of juicy news.
‘Well, I’m feeling a bit frustrated, to be honest.’
‘I bet you do, being with him all day!’
‘No, not that. It’s just, I went to this gallery in the town to try to find out anything about Mum’s painting and I sort of hoped it would be there – mystery solved and I could relax. I can’t explain it, but it’s like an obsession nagging away at me. If I see it in real life, I think it’ll help me to move on. I was thinking about Arabelle’s suggestion of reuniting all five of the Methoni series in a grand exhibition. It would be an amazing tribute to Mum. But while it’s still out there, it’s like I can’t grieve properly.’
She sighs heavily.
‘I just don’t want you disappointed if you don’t end up finding it. The chances of it being in Methoni, if it exists at all, are so slim. I did try to say this when you set off to Greece. Try not to get your hopes up too much. Soph, you don’t need it to grieve. And if you obsess and it’s nowhere to be found, you’ll be left feeling dreadful, and I don’t want that, because it’s another thing I can’t fix.’
I can hear the pity in her voice and I know what she’s thinking. She thinks finding the picture doesn’t change anything. Factually, it doesn’t, but emotionally, it does, and I won’t be able to make her understand that. As close as she was to my mum, this is where the unique bond between mother and daughter is hard to comprehend from the outside. Especially because she has such a fractured relationship with her own mother. I know she’s trying to guide me and help. Our dynamic has always been such, especially since I’ve been in such a state for so long. Tasha has taken charge of me like a mother would. Good practice for her, I suppose.
‘I know, you’re right, but I can’t let you take responsibility for me forever,’ I concede. ‘It just feels like there’s a part of Mum’s life she kept me away from and it all leads to Methoni. If I find the picture, then I’ve gathered all of her in and I can properly say goodbye. If there are fakes that may surface, I want to protect her memory, and I’m the only person who can do that, because nobody else knows what this picture looks like, apart from Arabelle and me.’
‘Soph, if it’s meant to be, you’ll find it. But if you don’t, then you need to be prepared for that.’
‘I know. Thank God for you keeping me grounded. I also had this call today that freaked me out. I thought it was someone about the painting, or worse, Robert. I was with Theo and was scared if it was Robert, I’d have to explain the history, and I really don’t want to get into any of that. Who ever really wants to open the ex-files? But the call connected and there was just silence. Nothing. It’s put me on edge.’
‘Probably a stupid call centre thing, don’t think too much of it.’
‘I know, but Robert’s still pursuing me, sending emails constantly. I block him and then he finds a way to send another. He’s like a dog with a bone if he doesn’t get what he wants.’
I shudder when I think about his tenacity, the way he’d hunt me down if he didn’t know precisely where I was. Although Tasha knows about his temper and drinking, the shame and embarrassment I felt about not being the super strong woman I thought I was, allowing myself to become a victim of his behaviour, led me to conceal what was going on at first. When she did discover the hidden nature of my relationship, she was on at me to leave, unable to understand why I stayed. Nor do I, upon reflection.
Their tension drove a wedge through our regular foursome. I could only see Tasha and Angus without Robert, as she refused to be in the same room as him. Even though I’m way more emotional than her, somehow my reaction to the years of coercive control at Robert’s hands allows me to talk about it removed from the pain I suffered. As if my agony transformed into detachment, with any anger directed mainly at myself for letting it repeatedly happen. I thought I could make him better, mend him, convince him to change. But I couldn’t.
‘Anyway,’ I continue, ‘enough about my woes. Tell me your news – how are you feeling?’
‘Bloated, cross, horny – and that’s just the last thirty seconds. But since you mentioned Robert, I have something to tell you. And please don’t freak out.’
I cradle the phone to my ear and carry the fish dish back inside ready to start cooking.
I begin to panic.
‘Is everything OK?’
‘Yes, we’re fine, it’s just that there was a bit of an incident with Angus.’
‘What do you mean? Get on with it, Tash, you’re scaring me.’
I feel a rising dread, snagging in my throat.
‘Well, Robert turned up at our house the night before last and intercepted Angus after his late shift. He was, of course, drunk.’
‘What?! Is Angus OK?’
I step back outside and slump heavily into a chair. Why is he still a feature in my thoughts, even now?
‘Angus is fine and managed to calm him down with the help of several black coffees. It’s not the first pisshead he’s dealt with and they were close friends before we knew what a monster Robert is. I was fast asleep, happily oblivious to the drama, which is lucky for him, as I’d have called the police. Robert was ranting and raving, bawling like a baby. The usual: he can’t live without you … why did you leave him … he misses you … blah-blah. He was fishing for clues, trying to find out where you are. No pun intended.’
I’m so embarrassed and feel a sense of responsibility among my disgust and rage, even though he isn’t my problem any more. He must have some inbuilt radar that picks up inklings of me being happy, taking steps to wreck it.
‘Please apologise to Angus for me. I’m so sorry he’s dragged you into his drama with everything else you’re going through.’
‘Don’t you dare. It’s not your apology to make. He’s just a bitter, miserable drunk who needs to get the message and move on. I’m livid at him!’
‘Angus didn’t tell him where I was …?’
‘Of course not, he’s not bloody stupid!’
I’ve accidentally poked the proverbial hormonal bear and I wince at the sharpness of her tone.
‘Sorry, I’m just tired and grumpy. Angus woke me afterwards, so I’ve been fuming most of yesterday and today and wondering whether to tell you or not. Or report him, anyway.’
‘I’m glad you told me, honestly. It changes nothing. I don’t want him in my life. He’s been emailing, but I only read one. And this isn’t good for your eggs, Tash, please stay calm.’ She’s the opposite of calm.
‘Do not read any messages! Just block him as many times as it takes. He actually got Angus by the scruff of the neck, screaming in his face “Where is she?!”’
‘Honestly, I’m done with him, believe me. It was a bloody lucky escape.’
‘Sophie, that’s twice you’ve said “honestly” in the space of twenty seconds, so now I’m less inclined to believe you.’
Although I truly don’t want Robert in my life, I’m furious he’s compromised my friendship with Angus. We used to do so much together, before Tasha withdrew from double dates when she knew what went on behind our closed doors. Standard drunk Robert behaviour. All that nonsense in his email about having changed is just manipulative tripe. I’m better off without him; despite the teeniest nag of sympathy I’m trying to ignore. I wish I didn’t feel responsible – I need to learn to shake that off.
I hear an alarm going off in the background at Tasha’s.
‘Oh, bugger, it’s injection time. Sorry, honey, I’ve got to go and stab myself. Just promise me you’re all right and please be good and if you can’t be good then …’ She bursts into tears suddenly.
‘Tasha, what is it?’ I feel the miles of distance between us. I wish I could be there with her. I hate to hear her cry.
‘I miss you, that’s all, and I worry about you so much. You’ve been through the mill and I don’t want you hurt any more. By Robert or anything. I couldn’t protect you from him. You deserve to be happy.’
‘I’m fine, I promise, and I miss you, too. Nobody could have stopped Robert, not even you. It was my fault for staying so long.’
Am I letting her down? Am I being a dreadful friend and utterly selfish by coming here? I didn’t think so until now. I deserved this break, didn’t I? In Methoni, gazing out to sea in the sunshine, on the boat for hours, it’s as if the rest of the world doesn’t exist. But the guilt trip I’m having hearing my oldest friend weep is too painful and makes me consider rushing back to London. But if I go back now, I may miss my chance to find this painting and I have to try, otherwise I’ll regret it, I know I will.
‘Nothing about that relationship was your fault. Call me tomorrow and I love you. Ignore my madness – it’s just the drugs.’
‘Love you, too. I’m here – call me any time, day or night.’
‘Thanks, Soph. Chat soon and big kisses to Theo!’ And just like that, she’s back to naughtiness.
I hang up, simmering with fury at Robert. I’m not even hungry any more. Despite my sudden loss of appetite, I heat up the grill and make a salad. As I cut the vegetables, the sardines sizzling, my thoughts flit between the amazing afternoon and what transpired at Tasha and Angus’ house. It’s as if I can still feel the imprint of Theo’s lips on my skin, the exquisite moment of pause just before his mouth connected with my cheek. Then a flash of drunk Robert appears, shunting any joy aside.
I’m well aware what Robert is capable of and how volatile he can be when he’s riled. I’ve been successful on compartmentalising my trauma – it remains within me solely as disgust. But no matter how hard I try to bury it, the thought of him still frightens me. He’s dangerous. And I hate myself for feeling like this.
Dangerous … I was told Theo was dangerous by Christina and warned by Mary about someone dangerous around me. I just can’t believe that of Theo. I’m too familiar with what real danger looks like.
I should know – I almost married it.