Chapter Thirty-Eight

‘I really like you, Tanya,’ Marinos told her, holding her tight.

‘I really like you too,’ Tanya said back, breathing in the scent of his skin. Outside, the taxi’s engine kept running, urging her to get a move on or miss her flight.

‘I want to see you again, innit.’

‘I want to see you, too. I can’t believe I’ve got to go back, at the end of the day.’

‘We’ll work something out, I promise.’

Tanya pulled back and looked deep into his eyes. ‘You concentrate on getting yourself fit again. I want to hear about you scoring loads of goals!’

He smiled. ‘I will, you know, and I’ll do every one of them for you.’

She blew him a kiss goodbye, put on her oversized sunglasses, even though the sun was barely up, and headed for the taxi. As they pulled away, Tanya waved sadly. She was leaving the sexiest and most famous man she’d ever met for a party with the likes of Yannakis and Mr Makhtabi. She shivered in disgust when she thought of what she’d gone through with that man. Never again! She resolved to give him the heave-ho that afternoon, and to get a fabulous rock on her finger by Christmas.

But it was because she was going back, Tanya told herself, it was because she was independent and valued her career, that Marinos respected her. And it was because of those things that he’d beg her to live with him and give up her old life. Tanya smiled, satisfied. It had been a good move, talking about his health like that. It showed concern for his career, and therefore for what was best for him. Men liked that.

Yes, so far, everything had gone even better than she’d expected, she thought, leaning back, feeling that tingle between her legs that only Marinos seemed to bring out in her. A rock on her finger by Christmas. Tanya watched the London streets go by. A lavish celebrity-filled wedding next summer. Two children - it was important to look like a devoted mum - each with a name exotic enough to ensure a lifetime in the public eye. For a boy she’d like something short and edgy, like Drake, or Chance. For a girl, something softer and floral. There were already too many Lilys and Roses around, though, Tanya would have to come up with something more imaginative. Geranium wouldn’t work. She tried to picture the flowers on Sheila’s terrace and remember what she’d called them. Fuchsia, was there? That might be problematic. And Jasmine was a bit common these days. What was the bush that was everywhere, then, the one with the vivid pink flowers? Tanya tried to remember. Oleander, wasn’t that it? That could be a pretty name, she decided. Oleander Kiriakos. It sounded particularly actressy she thought, satisfied with her choice.

Tanya watched the London streets come to life. She could just imagine the lovely spread in OK featuring her new baby Oleander, with toddler Drake playfully at her side. When asked to explain her choice of name, Tanya would tell of how it paid respect to Marinos’ background and the beautiful island where they fell in-love. Her sensitivity would bring tears to readers’ eyes and the name Oleander would be copied by mums throughout the nation.

It was such a wonderful fantasy that it saw Tanya right through to check-in, hopelessly unaware that the oleander plant could be fatally poisonous if ingested.

***

‘Happy birthday, darling,’ Anna woke her husband with a kiss.

‘Oh God, is it really? Forty! I mean, how can I be forty?’

‘They say forty’s the new thirty,’ Anna told him. ‘I wouldn’t worry about it.’

‘But forty, God. I mean, what have I been doing all my life?’

‘Oh Richard, don’t start having a mid-life crisis on me now.’

He shook his head in disbelief. ‘Let’s just keep it quiet and discreet, shall we? I could pick up some nice seafood on the way home for supper?’

Anna pulled a mock frown. ‘Perhaps I’ve already got something planned?’ she suggested coquettishly.

‘You have?’ He swung round to face her. ‘You’re full of surprises.’ He leant forward and kissed her. ‘And the other day was the biggest surprise of them all! I still can’t get my head around it. You’re the best present a man could ask for, you know that?’

‘I’m sorry about Nathalie and me,’ she admitted. ‘I don’t know how to explain what happened between us. A form of midsummer madness, perhaps.’

‘And perfectly understandable under the circumstances.’ He kissed her again. ‘But we’re over the worst now, aren’t we? Come on, let’s make love.’

Anna looked at her watch. ‘You’re going to be late for work.’

‘Oh bugger it, who cares if I’m late? I’m forty! That doesn’t happen every day.’ He started caressing her breasts.

‘Richard, you mustn’t. I tell you what, let’s leave it until you get back, eh? You can keep mummy quiet with the sports pages and we can have a pre-lunch session, how about that?’

‘But I want you now!’ he said, burrowing his face into her neck. ‘I don’t care about the bank, I want you now!’

Anna peered at her watch again. Their friends were on the early flight arriving at nine. They’d spend a bit of time sorting out the car hire but wouldn’t get there much later than ten. And she still had to get washed and dressed herself and had her mother to deal with and -

‘Morning, here’s some coffee for you!’ Audrey breezed in holding a tray with a pot and two cups, a birthday card propped up against the milk jug.

Richard leapt off Anna and covered himself with the sheet. ‘Audrey, what a lovely surprise!’ he told her.

‘It’s not every day you’re forty, is it?’ she asked. ‘Now, aren’t you running late?’ She winked at Anna.

‘Yes, I suppose I am,’ Richard said, deflated. ‘So I’ll just have a sip of coffee and then get myself under the shower. And I’d better make it a cold one,’ he added, once Audrey was out of earshot.

***

It was ten past eight and Richard had still not emerged, Barry noticed, peering out of his window. What was going on in there? He made the marinade for his meats and checked his list again, to see what he could work on next. The bulghur wheat salads were done and just needed warming up, the table accessories cluttering up his living room were ready but would have to wait until after Richard was back, and the green and mixed salads wouldn’t need assembling until the evening. He had canapes to do but wasn’t due to start on those until eleven forty-five, the optimum time before they started getting soggy. Now there was the bread to collect, but he wanted to check that Richard had left before he did so.

Finally the front door of number eight opened and Richard emerged, dashing towards the car park. Barry picked up his wallet and keys and made for his own car. Around the same time Ginnie appeared from number three, on her way to fetch the cake.

‘Happy birthday, Richard,’ she called out, before remembering herself and giving a startled cry.

Barry stopped in his tracks.

‘Oh.’ Richard looked confused. ‘Thank you, how good of you to remember.’

‘Is it your birthday, Richard?’ Barry asked, hoping to cover up for her mistake. ‘Many happy returns.’ He shot Ginnie a withering look.

‘It’s not a big deal,’ Richard told him, opening the car door and indicating he was in a rush. When he’d driven safely off, Barry turned to Ginnie.

‘Mistakes like that could ruin the whole operation,’ he told her sternly.

‘I know, Barry, I’m sorry, it’s early and I’ve just got so much going on, I wasn’t thinking.’

Barry humphed and got in his car. Careless talk, he muttered to himself as he crunched into first gear.

He drove to his preferred bakery and bought several different breads - French baguettes, some brown loaves, a few rolls and some flat, Arabic style bread. That should feed everyone. He mustn’t forget to put out the olives and crisps, and the cheesy sticks he’d made the day before. And then there was his rendez-vous with Anna at nine-thirty, once the cleaner had finished going over the place, to fill number two’s bath with cold water and beer cans. Everything was going to plan, he told himself cheerily. There was nothing Barry enjoyed better than organising other people.

Later, he found Anna inside number two with the cleaning woman, Mrs Stylianou, from the village. The floors had been swept and the beds changed, and she had just started on the bathroom. Barry retrieved the beers he’d been storing - 30 six-packs, as if they’d ever get through that much! - and started carrying them between the houses. Anna kept looking at her watch and willing Mrs Stylianou to hurry up.

‘Richard got off all right this morning, did he? Only I noticed he was a bit late.’

Anna ignored him. ‘Where’s Ginnie, is she getting the cake?’

‘Oh yes, I saw her, and she nearly gave the game away, she did.’ Barry explained what had happened.

‘The trouble is,’ Anna mused, ‘that Richard genuinely seems to want a quiet day. No fuss. I hope I’m not making a dreadful mistake.’

‘With all his old friends coming over? No, of course not, he’ll be delighted,’ Barry insisted. But she did look worried, he noticed. Then again, she was fed up with having her mother around, that was what was getting to her. No, they were going to have a super day. And with organisation like this, how could anything go wrong?