London, the Nineties
The following year, the family didn’t return to the island. Neither Artemis nor Clive even mooted the idea as the prospect of another school holiday loomed, as if to even mention the place where the fight had happened, while the repercussions were still being felt, threatened to throw off balance the careful dance that their relationship had become.
For her part, Artemis was simply relieved not to have to make a decision on whether or not to go home to Greece, where the threat of seeing Athena again loomed large. She had expected David to ask when he would be going back to visit his grandparents that year. But as he turned nine, the thrill of spending time with Artemis’ mother and father in the bakery and occasional days out to the beach with Maria – who for all David’s fondness towards her was ultimately still a girl, two years younger than himself – diminished in the face of the prospect of a summer in London, hanging out with friends his own age. The fact was that her son was getting older. One day her boy would be a man. She tried to picture it: David, with his obsession with catching woodworms to keep as pets; the way he subconsciously closed one eye when he tried, unconvincingly, to tell a lie; David who giggled uncontrollably as he showed his friends how he could push almost his whole tongue through the gaps where his teeth had fallen out – as a man. The truth was, he was already changing. The older he got, the more interested he became in hanging out with Clive, and the more Clive rejected him, the more vehemently he seemed to crave his father’s attention.
Inevitably, when his requests were rejected by Clive, she was the one David seemed to blame, moping around the house, rebutting his mother’s attempts to cajole him out of his mood with offers of the cinema or the zoo.
When, at the last minute, Clive suggested they spend the last few weeks of the summer in France that year, scoping out a picturesque village in Provence where he was interested in buying a property, David was enthusiastic in a way that Artemis was certain he wouldn’t have been if she had been the one to suggest it. With the promise of a swimming pool and daily ice creams, David was lured away from days spent playing football on the Heath with his friends, playing Sega into the evening.
The smell of lavender clung to the village that August. It wafted over the wall of the garden, scenting the air as Artemis and David whiled away the hours reading in the shade, dipping in and out of the swimming pool, while Clive looked at houses. In the late afternoons, once the day had slightly cooled, the three of them would stroll to the boulangerie for supplies, the smell of pastries reminding Artemis of her childhood.
Maria would be turning seven that summer. The thought struck Artemis one afternoon, with a tug of sadness. She bought a card from a boutique in town with a kitten on the front and signed it from her and David, with the message We hope you have a wonderful day. Can’t wait to see you again written inside, holding her breath as she wrote it. Would she ever see Maria again? She and Athena hadn’t spoken since their fight. Artemis had considered calling, but what would be the point? Besides, Athena was the one who should be eaten up with remorse. She needed to make the call, not that she would. Athena had no concept of being in the wrong, ever.
Artemis was lazing by the pool, lost in thought, when Clive returned later that afternoon with a triumphant look on his face. ‘I’ve found it,’ he said, leaning down and kissing her hard on the forehead.
‘Really?’
‘Just you wait. It’s an old chateau, in need of plenty of work, hence the price …’ He walked over to the pool where David was practising his diving. David’s face stretched into a smile when he looked up and saw his father pulling off his clothes and jumping in in his boxer shorts.
‘Tomorrow we’ll drive to Nice,’ Clive said, catching his breath after a few laps. His arms crossed over the edge of the pool, he looked playful, childlike, his skin glistening in the afternoon sun, reminding Artemis of those early days in Greece. ‘David, I’ll take you to the casino. Make a man of you. What do you think?’
Something about the sound of her son squealing with excitement as she walked away unnerved her. She hated these flickers of jealousy she felt watching David bask in the sporadic attention of his father. But she felt powerless to stop them.
For so many years – as she watched him suckle milk, his tiny fingers desperately searching for and then clinging to hers, holding his hand while he shuffled along one of the fallen logs on the Heath, listening to him painstakingly sound out letters from an illustrated phonics chart – it had felt like she was the only person David would ever need. Suddenly, she had the feeling he didn’t need her at all.
They took the Côte d’Azur coastal road towards Nice the following day, rolling back the roof of their rented Audi TT, sea stretching out on one side, the sky a hazy blue above their heads.
When she looked at him in profile, it was still there, an impression of the young man she had seen that day on the boat, the ambitious would-be entrepreneur intent on changing the world, but so faintly now that when she blinked it was gone.
Turning, Artemis caught a flash of herself in the wing mirror; her face was less defined than it had been. She was still beautiful, though not in the way that made fools of men. That was partly why Clive’s infatuation, in those early days, had been so peculiar, so meaningful; he had seen something in her that others couldn’t. Had he loved her, then?
It occurred to her that she wasn’t sure she had ever really loved him, or anyone, before David.
She felt a sudden intense ache at the nape of her neck, the sea air chilling the back of her head.
‘So what do you think of the house, from the brochure?’ Clive asked, interrupting her thoughts.
‘I think it’s beautiful,’ she replied, touching her hand to her neck, watching him for a moment longer before tilting her head to look out of the window.
They checked in for the night at the Negresco, Clive pulling out his wallet and handing a card to the receptionist. She rarely thought about the mechanics of the inordinate growth of Clive’s company, how it had gone so quickly from wary start-up to something lucrative enough to enable the purchase of plush second homes. If she had she might have reasoned it was the result of canny self-belief combined with the financial freedom of having inherited a house, and no small sum of cash, shortly before they met.
‘Bit bloody gaudy, but all part of the experience,’ Clive said, indicating around the hotel reception before slipping his card back into his wallet. ‘I suggest we put our bags in the room and then go for lunch.’
‘I’m not hungry, I want to go to the casino like you said,’ David replied sulkily.
Clive gave him a reproving look and Artemis felt a pang of hurt on David’s behalf. ‘I can take him, I’m not that hungry yet either,’ she said quickly.
‘We have a lunch date, we can go to the casino after that,’ Clive repeated firmly.
‘With who?’ Artemis asked, confused. He hadn’t mentioned they would be meeting anyone.
‘Jeff and May. They happened to be staying down the road and Jeff and I have a few things to discuss.’
Artemis felt a scream rise inside her. How dare he? After everything …
‘Sound good, David? Your godparents are looking forward to having you.’
Intentionally, he avoided Artemis’ gaze, holding out his hand to his son, who took it gratefully. ‘Come on then … Let’s not keep them waiting.’
Clive gave the perfect performance of someone having an ordinary lunch with friends. He and Jeff sat at one end of the table, the women at the other. Artemis, whose whole body trembled with obsolete rage beneath linen trousers, a white V-neck T-shirt and espadrilles, beside May in a lurid green summer dress and spiked heels. David sat between them, distracted by the sticker album May had presented him with.
May, either oblivious or indifferent to the air of tension that rang between Clive and Artemis as they approached the dining hall, drilled on as usual, giving an equally impressive show of nothing being off. And it wasn’t, was it? Nothing had changed. As May rattled on about the spa facilities at their hotel (‘honestly, so naff’) Artemis’ attention turned to the restaurant tables, raucous groups and coiffed couples of a certain age sitting in cool silence. She thought of Yannis’ bar on the island, of the rows of dusty old bottles, the impassioned conversation and gentle bickering that rang between the tables.
Her mind slipping back into the room, Artemis’ attention was caught by Clive’s more clipped tones. ‘Francisco’s still going on about it. I’ve told him I’m not interested – and I thought you had done the same.’
‘Well, I—’ Jeff began.
‘You need to rein this in—’ Clive cut him off.
‘I need the toilet,’ David’s voice blotted out his father’s words. Artemis pushed back her chair.
‘Let’s go,’ she said, holding out her hand to him, but he slipped past without looking back. ‘I can go on my own, I don’t need you.’