A Shameful Consequence (8 page)

Connie stood frozen—not at the news, because she had found out the same already, but that he knew and that Nico would tell her. She was shocked he would share what surely no one else knew, because if that news got out it would make her annulment and pregnancy idle chatter.

‘How?’ It was husky, and the word stuck in her throat. Did he know already that her father was involved? Was that, in fact, why he was here?

‘I remembered.’ He said it so simply. His voice did not betray the pain and the heartache, the jumble of feelings and dreams that made, almost, a memory. ‘I’m wrong apparently. My parents deny …’ His voice trailed off. He was not here to talk about himself and not used to sharing.

‘Tell me,’ Connie offered, because pain had entered the building, and now that he was not looking at her, now that he focussed instead on the television behind her, she could really look at him. Yes, the year had left its mark on him, too. He was a touch thinner perhaps, but that was not it. She tried to fathom what the change was, but couldn’t.

He shook his head, because he had said more than enough already, and Connie did not push again, scared what her tired brain might reveal in an unguarded moment.

‘You’d better go.’

He had better.

He could leave what he had in his wallet, and if she threw it at him, then she could pick it up later. He could send her regular cheques each month and it was up to her if she cashed them. He could go, safe in the knowledge that soon she would be strong, but there was a scent in the kitchen that had him linger, the sweet smell of baby. Then he looked over at her and thought how much better he could make things.

Not forever, he quickly told himself, because there could be no forever, his heart had learnt that long ago.

But he could expedite things, get her back on her feet sooner, help set her up with somewhere decent to live, but for now she needed to rest and get strong and, he admitted, albeit reluctantly, she simply deserved a little looking after. ‘Come with me,’ Nico said, and this time he meant it. ‘Not to the hotel, but back to my home. I will hardly be there, you can rest, get your strength, I have staff …’

‘I’ll be fine.’ She meant it, she absolutely meant it—she just hadn’t quite worked out how.

‘Come with me.’ He said it again. ‘I have a property on Xanos—the south.’

She gave a wry laugh, had this vision of blondes draped over his white loungers, of million-dollar views and champagne cooling, and could not be the ragamuffin guest. ‘I’m not interested,’ Connie said. ‘I’m trying to get away from my family—I hardly want to go back to Xanos.’ It was Connie frowning now. ‘I didn’t know you had property there.’

‘No one knows,’ Nico said. ‘It is very private, extremely
secluded. There is a stretch of beach that is mine and you can walk undisturbed there. There is a pool and a garden where you can get back some colour …’ He looked at her tired pale cheeks and his mind was made up. ‘I have a housekeeper who cooks with local produce.’

‘Your staff will soon talk.’

‘My staff were hand-picked.’ He saw her dismiss that. After all, she knew how the island worked, that the people thrived on gossip—it was a factor he had considered on hiring Despina and Paulo. ‘They are an elderly couple,’ Nico explained. ‘Proud people, who lost their only son a couple of years ago—all their savings had gone into his health. They have nothing. The developer bought their home and was charging them the most ridiculous rent. Now they live in a property to the rear of mine and they tend to the house and garden as if it were there own.’ He looked over at Constantine and would not for a moment let her compare him to Henry. ‘I pay them not just their board but a good wage, too—my staff have dignity, and that brings loyalty. I insist on privacy. No one, not even my family, knows that I am there.’

‘Why?’ Connie blinked. ‘Why the secrecy?’

He had no choice but to tell her. If she came she’d find out anyway, for there were papers everywhere and records that he pored over whenever he got a chance. ‘I am from there,’ Nico said. ‘I am sure of that. I want to find out my past …’ And she felt her blood run cold
as he continued, ‘So for now, in my free time, I base myself in Xanos.’

‘Doing what?’

‘Searching,’ Nico said. ‘I want to find out who and where my parents are.’

‘And then …’ Connie was having great trouble finding her voice. ‘Once you’ve found them, you’ll …’ She struggled, tried to stop herself from asking too many questions, but she wanted to be sure that was all he wanted, wanted to know that her family would be safe. Nico didn’t wait for her to finish her stumbling sentence. He cut straight in and she saw then what she hadn’t been able to place before, recognised then the change in him and it was anger. ‘I don’t just want to find them. I want to find out who facilitated this, and, when I do—’ how black were his eyes as he continued, how badly they bored into her heart ‘—they will pay.’

T
HEY
would
pay.

Connie was quite sure of it.

He would ruin her family, of that she had no doubt. The shame she had wreaked on them would be nothing,
nothing
compared to what Nico would do when he found out the truth.

All of the truth, for she knew more.

She had seen the papers, had held them in her hands, and knew there was much more to this than parents giving up their baby.

‘Get your things,’ Nico said, and she was about to say no, but maybe she was too tired to process things properly. Perhaps by being there she could prevent him from finding things out because, Connie knew, the outcome could only be devastating. ‘We leave now.’

‘I can’t,’ Constantine said. ‘I can’t just leave Henry …’

‘He treats you like a slave.’

‘He’s an old man,’ Connie said. ‘And slave labour or not, I signed up for the job.’

‘Then you leave in the morning.’

‘I doubt the agency can get a replacement any time soon.’

‘Oh, they will,’ Nico said darkly.

‘I can’t …’ She wanted to go; there was a part of her that was tempted to just escape, to go home, to hide at his property and heal, and there was part of her too that needed to be there, to stop the train wreck that would surely happen. But there was another reason that she was scared to go.

One reason.

And Nico knew it and he faced it.

‘We need to talk,’ Nico said. ‘There are things we need to discuss.’ He looked at her lank hair, her puffy face, could feel the exhaustion that seeped from her, and his harsh voice softened. ‘But not now,’ he said, ‘not yet—not till you are ready.’ He saw hope flare in her dull eyes as he tossed her the lifeline, and he willed her to take it. ‘You have my word. For now all you have to do is deal with the basics.’

‘The basics?’

‘Be a mother,’ Nico said. ‘And when you’re not being a mother, you rest.’

How sweet those words were, how tempting, how blissful it sounded. She wanted to close her eyes right now, to just sink into them, not think of problems, the hows, the whys, the hell that surely would follow.

She wanted what he offered.

‘Rest,’ Nico said. ‘We’ll leave in the morning. For now you should sleep.’ But Connie shook her head.

‘I have to do the laundry.’ He watched as she heaved
a basket across the kitchen and he saw her jaw tighten as, instead of offering to help, he sat down, and just once as she loaded filthy sheets into the machine did she glance up, but said nothing.

And still she said nothing as she turned the machine on, and then opened the dryer, pulling more of the same out and folding the old man’s bedding, but he could feel her tension at his lack of assistance as he picked up the remote and flicked the television to the news.

‘I don’t do laundry,’ he said.

‘Clearly,’ Connie said as she dragged out the ironing board.

‘You want to be a martyr …’ He shrugged. ‘Go ahead.’

And she didn’t want to be a martyr so, for the first time, rather than ironing them, she put away the board and she just folded them instead.

‘Rebel,’ Nico said, glancing up, and she felt something she hadn’t in a very long time—a move on the edge of her lips that was almost a smile as she left the wretched laundry and sat on the only seat left in the kitchen, the one on the sofa beside him. It was horribly awkward, staring ahead at the news when she wanted to turn and stare at him, wanted to talk, but scared what might come out if she did.

‘Why don’t you go to bed?’ Nico suggested. ‘While he sleeps, shouldn’t you rest?’

‘I shall go to bed as soon as you’ve gone.’

‘Oh, I’m going nowhere,’ Nico said. ‘I’m not giving
you a chance to come up with a million reasons why you can’t leave in the morning. I’m staying right here.’

‘What about your hotel room? What about—?’

But Nico wasn’t going to argue. ‘Go to bed.’

And she sat there.

‘Go on,’ he said, and her face burnt, and she bit back tears. Neither victim nor martyr did she want to be, but dignity was sometimes hard to come by.

‘You’re sitting on it.’

And to his credit he said nothing, did not act appalled, just headed over to the kitchen and prepared the second cup of instant coffee he had ever had in his life, then perched himself on the barstool.

‘There is a bedroom.’ She felt the need to explain. ‘It’s just Henry moans if …’ she hesitated a moment ‘ … the baby starts crying. He can’t hear so much if we are down here.’

And there was the longest pause so he was determined not ask, but more than that, he wanted to know. ‘What’s his name?’

‘Leo,’ Connie said, and swallowed, because by tradition he should be Vasos after Nico’s father, and though she had ached to name him Nico, it would have been too much of a constant reminder, so instead she had named him Leo, for it was in August that he had been made.

‘Sleep,’ he ordered, and she unravelled a blanket.

And she tried to sleep.

Turned her back on him and faced the faded pattern
of the sofa, tried not to think about the man in the room and that tomorrow she would leave here with him.

Tried not to fathom her scary future.

Because, even with Nico’s offer, the future was scary. Scarier, in fact, than going it alone, because the truth would out—deep down she knew that.

She was just in no position to run from it.

S
URPRISINGLY
, she slept.

Despite his presence, despite her anxiety about the next day, with Nico in the room, a strong, quiet presence, somehow her exhausted mind stilled. Somehow she fell asleep to the whir of the tumble dryer and washing machine and did not think about what the next day would bring.

Even in the night, when her baby awoke, Constantine hardly did. Nico watched in silence as, surely more asleep than awake, she dragged herself from the sofa at Leo’s first murmur, crossed the dark room and changed her child then went back to the sofa with him. She curled on her side, hardly a word spoken, just a hush to her baby and then the sound of him feeding, and after a while, when the room was silent, he watched her sleepwalk her baby back to his crib. It happened again early in the morning, but this time the feed was interrupted by the incessant demands of the old man.

‘I could go up for you?’ Nico offered, the third time she dashed to the stairs.

‘And scare the life out of him.’

He was more tempted than she could know, but he held onto his temper. Nico even sat quietly while Constantine rang the employment agency, watching her fingers rake through her long hair as she explained that today she would be leaving.

‘Next week?’ Connie said, and Nico’s jaw tightened and she knew, just knew, he was about to take the phone from her, but she was determined to handle this. ‘I want someone here today.’ But the agency knew Connie was a responsible woman who would not leave the old man alone, and took full advantage of that fact. For, really, they could find someone at their leisure without her walking out. Defeated, she handed him the phone.

‘Nico Eliades speaking.’ His voice was one she had heard before, that morning she had rung him from her father’s study.

For mal.

Brutal.

‘You have one hour to send someone or, failing that, to get here yourself.’ And he said a little more than that, as Connie sat cringing, that he was considering reporting them. First he would check with his lawyers about minimum wage and work hours, and most certainly he would do that at ten a.m., ‘if no one is here’.

The owner was there within half an hour.

She told Henry, who must have been used to staff leaving, because he didn’t seem remotely bothered. He knew full well there would be plenty of others who were desperate to take her place.

Connie packed her things into her suitcase, which bulged a little more now that it had to hold Leo’s things.

‘What about the crib?’

‘It was already here.’

‘Then let’s go.’

He took the case she had been struggling with and held it as easily as if it were an empty carrier bag and then handed it to a driver who was coming to the door.

‘Are we going back to the hotel?’ she asked as she climbed into the car. He had thought of everything, Connie realised, because there was even a baby seat. Or rather he had informed his driver, because Connie really couldn’t imagine him fitting it, and certainly he offered no help as for the first time she wrestled with straps and the buckle and fitted Leo into the seat.

‘I don’t know how it goes.’ She was embarrassed after a couple of attempts and he sat in the seat beside her, clearly wanting to get going and unused to this type of delay.

‘Don’t look at me,’ Nico said, and drummed his fingers on the car door as he sat impatiently waiting for the click that told them Leo was safely secured.

It was only as they drove off, as her life changed forever again, that Connie realised not once had he so much as looked at their baby.

‘I
T’S
beautiful.’ It was her first glimpse of Xanos in almost a year and, even if she had never seen the south, it looked like home. Certainly it was a relief to almost be there.

Though luxurious, the journey had been long, especially with a fretful baby and milk that just wasn’t flowing.

Connie had been tempted to ask if they could stop at a chemist when they hit the mainland so she could buy some provisions in case her milk ran out, but was too embarrassed to have such a discussion with Nico. Instead, she stayed quiet as they transferred to a small seaplane. As Xanos came into view, her tiredness lifted a little at the sight before her, great sweeps of beach that broke up the bright blue ocean and then gave way to lush, green hills. Though it was her island, Connie had never visited this side, let alone from a seaplane. From the air it was completely stunning.

She knew there had been many grumbles as to the size of the development but she had never really
comprehended just how big it was. Now, as they drew closer, Connie could see the lavish houses with their infinity pools. There was a large hotel that Nico pointed out, called Ravels, and her throat tightened with the thought of living amongst all the finery.

Her family was considered wealthy by old Xanos standards, but their wealth was nothing,
nothing
compared to this, and frankly it was all rather intimidating.

‘This,’ Nico said as the plane made a perfect landing and glided smoothly to a small jetty, ‘is where sometimes you will get wet. Depending on the tide,’ he explained, but the tide was behaving today. The pilot unloaded both her and Nico’s luggage, Connie’s a rather sad-looking affair beside his smart black cases. There was one tricky moment: the pilot had placed a small ramp for her to walk on and she wanted to turn, to ask for Nico to take her baby while she negotiated it and then for him to pass Leo to her, but even as she turned her head to ask, she changed her mind. Nico made his feelings perfectly clear on that subject with his choice of words.

‘Pass him to the pilot. Then he can take your hand and help you.’

The pilot did help, handed her back Leo, then went ahead with their cases as Connie walked at a rather slower pace along the jetty and then onto the sandy beach, revelling in the feel of the Xanos sun on her skin again, and scents she hadn’t known she’d missed but which turned out to be blissfully familiar. The salty smell of the ocean filled her hungry lungs, and even if
it wasn’t to her parents’, she felt a little as if she were coming home, bringing Leo for the first time to a place where he belonged.

‘It used to be considered the poor side,’ Connie said. ‘But not now.’ She looked as luxury cars sped along the narrow road. She looked at the hotel and a large balcony where she could just make out diners enjoying the early evening sun. They walked just a little further, little Leo growing heavy in her arms, and as they stepped off the beach she decided she was getting rather too used to Nico’s lavish ways because she was sure a driver would appear to take them the rather long walk to the development. Quite sure, in fact, that the pilot would have their bags already loaded in an undoubtedly luxurious car.

Except there was no car, just an empty stretch of street, the pilot walking out through a stone arch on the other side of the road and nodding to Nico.

‘All inside for you, sir.’

Nico thanked him and, to her surprise Nico led her through the stone archway and into a garden that was a real one. The noise of low water fountains greeted her, as did a full, glittering stone pool and there was nothing intimidating about it. It was nothing like she had imagined Nico owning, for this was no glittering modern property. Instead, it was a glorious old whitewashed home with an elderly couple waiting at the doorway to greet them. The only sign that it was Nico’s home was a low sports car parked to the side of the house, and as
Nico saw her look at it he offered her the use of it any time he was at work.

Connie was quite sure she wouldn’t drive it!

‘Despina.’ Nico introduced an elderly lady who, unlike Connie’s mother, was dressed in black for real reasons. She practically fell on Leo, asking if it was okay for her to have a hold. It was a relief to hand him over, to let Despina take him, as her husband, Paulo, shook Nico’s hand and then pointed out the changes that he had made to the garden in the week or two that Nico had been away. It wasn’t just the weight of the baby in her arms that lifted, but a vast weight from her shoulders as she was ushered inside by Despina, leaving Paulo to work in the garden. It was how it should have been for Leo with her parents, Connie thought. This the welcome home that he deserved.

‘Go and wash and change,’ Despina said, ‘and then I have ready your dinner.’ She showed her to a room that was simple. Despina was still holding Leo as Connie looked around. There was a wooden bed, with crisp Greek linen and lace, and shutters on the window, and, amazingly, there was already a cot put up. Even if it was being silly, Connie felt a little uncomfortable, wondering if it was Despina’s dead son’s crib. There were many superstitions on the island that she’d grown up with, but Despina soon put her at ease. ‘My niece just moved—they are away for a year with her husband and children. She is happy for you to use her things.’

‘That’s so kind of you.’ Connie was touched at the thought that had gone into all this, and then, just as she
was about to go, Leo started crying and Connie had to feed him. ‘It’s every two hours …’ She closed her eyes in exhaustion. ‘I don’t think he’s getting enough.’

How nice it was that Despina was patient, that she sat with Connie as she attempted to feed, but Leo kept crying and Connie was getting more agitated. ‘I think it might be the travel and everything,’ Connie admitted. It was such bliss to have someone wise to talk to, to confide in, another woman who had been there before and done it.

‘I bought some formula and bottles when Nico said you were bringing a baby. It’s all there in the kitchen.’

‘I still want to feed him.’

‘Maybe now you can rest, things will get better, but if he is waking so much at night …’ She gave a shrug. ‘It’s there just in case. For now have your shower.’ Despina said. ‘I will watch him.’

It was bliss to have a shower and for the first time not have to listen out for Leo, knowing he was safe in Despina’s arms. She washed her hair, too, felt the last of London slide down the plughole, and then she combed it through and washed out the clothes she had been wearing for tomorrow. Then she went to her bedroom where Despina had placed a now sleeping Leo in his cot and Connie opened her case—the decision what to wear was not a difficult one. Certainly she wished she had more choice, but she settled for leggings and a long swing top that had seen her through most of her pregnancy and the weeks after the birth.

She wasn’t particularly nervous to go for dinner,
Despina had made her so welcome, but as Connie stepped into the living area, she saw the small kitchen was empty. The table was laid and Nico was sitting on the lounge, talking on the phone, and she realised they were alone.

‘Where’s Despina?’ she asked when the phone had clicked off.

‘Home,’ Nico said. ‘There is a smaller house to the rear of the property. I think I mentioned it before. Despina takes care of the cleaning and meals if I require them. Paulo keeps an eye on the garden.’

‘Oh.’

‘It’s all a bit basic …’ His hand swept around the simply furnished home. ‘Though not for much longer. There are some designs in progress. I am trying to purchase the land to the side of the property, once that is in place the rebuild will start.’

‘It’s lovely as it is,’ Connie said, because absolutely it was, certainly better than the palatial penthouse she had been nervously anticipating, but Nico just shrugged, clearly less than impressed with the place.

‘I have asked Despina to come over more while you are here, to help with the baby …’

‘I don’t need help with Leo.’ Her response was immediate, because as gorgeous as it had been to have ten minutes to herself, she did not need help taking care of her son.

‘She can make your bed, then.’ He dismissed her protests. ‘Prepare your meals.’

‘I can cook!’ Connie said, ‘I’m not an invalid, I don’t
need someone cooking and cleaning for me. In fact …’ she had an idea that would perhaps make her feel less beholden to him ‘ … why don’t I take care of the house while I’m here?’

‘To save me the money I pay Despina?’

His voice dripped sarcasm, and also Connie realised quickly just how stupid that idea was. She hardly wanted to do the woman out of a job. ‘I mean, to give her a break, perhaps …’

‘Fine,’ Nico said. ‘I’ll cancel her.’ He shrugged. ‘There is a small boat that leaves at eight each morning, it takes you to the market. Might be a bit tricky with Leo and all those bags, I saw the trouble you had at the jetty.’ She thought for a moment as she stood there, blushing at her own stupidity. Despina wasn’t just nice, she was a necessity, but Nico hadn’t finished teasing her yet. ‘But if you can’t manage the boat, perhaps you can eat at the taverna,’ he suggested, his tongue firmly in cheek. ‘It would be a bit too far to walk to Ravels with Leo.’

‘I doubt they welcome babies.’ She could be as sarcastic as Nico when she chose to be.

‘So,’ Nico said, ‘Despina stays. And you will not offend my housekeeper dragging a mop around yourself or folding sheets. You are to rest, to relax, recover from the birth and then …’ Black eyes met hers but thankfully he did not complete what he was saying, stuck to his promise that for now any difficult topics were on hold, but it was all there in his eyes, and it was there, too, in the knot deep in her stomach. She was terrified of his
reaction, not just to fatherhood but when he found out what her father had done. ‘For now,’ Nico said, ‘we eat.’

It was the dinner she had dreamed of.

Every night as she’d made Henry’s stew and mashed potato and then sat down much later to the same meal for herself, she had wished for this.

Slivers of lamb tossed in tzatziki, and a salad of thick slices of tomato drizzled in Xanos’s olive oil, and surely there were no better olives? Connie closed her eyes as she bit into one, could taste the lemon and garlic they had been marinated in. It was a simple dinner, but completely the tastes she had grown up on and Nico watched as she relished each bite.

‘What?’ She blushed as she caught him watching her.

‘It’s good to see you enjoying it.’ He poured himself a glass of wine, but when he offered, Connie shook her head.

‘No, thanks.’ She took a drink of water and relished it. ‘The water is so much fresher and softer here. I am enjoying my dinner,’ she admitted, and then she admitted a little more. ‘It’s not what I thought it would be. I mean, even as we flew in, I assumed we’d be going to the newer homes, or perhaps to the hotel.’

A year ago, they would have been.

Even a few months ago, that would have been the case.

But after employing the elderly couple to sort out the chaos of the neglected old house, on each trip back to Xanos, when he needed to go through papers, to
make calls and go through records, though initially he had stayed at Ravels, each time he had visited he had stopped by at the house. He stayed for dinner when Despina suggested it, then dinner had stretched to staying a night now and then, and now it had been weeks since he had graced Ravels.

‘It is more private here,’ Nico said, but did not offer more. Did not tell her the unexpected pleasure in choosing wine for this dinner tonight, rather than ringing down. The pleasure of books still placed where he had left them, and a lounge by the French windows that looked out to a view that was now familiar in its detail.

‘Here I get to think,’ Nico admitted, ‘and there is a lot to think about.’ He was hesitant, not used to wanting to speak about things, and he had shared this with no one. But somehow here with her and away from it all, Nico did relent and told her about his searching. ‘I don’t know where to look next.’ He stabbed his fork into his dinner. ‘How can I look for a birth record, when I don’t even know my name?’

‘You can’t,’ she said slowly, trying to hide the fear as to her family’s part in this, trying to pretend that she didn’t already know.

‘After the wedding I walked around,’ Nico said. ‘I knew the streets … but I could not know them …’ The bewildered frown on his face was completely out of place because even his forehead seemed to struggle to create the lines. Nico Eliades was a man who always knew the answers, always had things worked out. This, though, he still had not. ‘Of course I can get nothing out
of my parents. I have stopped asking for now. I figure if we are at least talking, maybe one day they will tell me.’

For the first time she saw it from his side. She’d seen it from her family’s, had seen it from her own view-point—his wrath aimed at her when he found out the truth. But now she sat and saw it from his—the agony of knowing, and not having it confirmed.

‘Nico …’ She opened her mouth, but she did not know to broach it, how to say it.

‘Leave it,’ he said, because he was tired from it all. ‘I’m going for a walk.’

He did. He walked the beach and back, and then he did it again, did not want to go to a bed that was empty and to the dream of what was waiting for him. He thought of her there in the house, and didn’t like the comfort it brought, for he knew it could not last for long. He could hear the baby crying as he returned much later, saw her standing in the kitchen in a skimpy nightdress, waiting for a bottle to warm.

She turned and said nothing, guilt in her soul and trouble in her heart, because she could see the wretchedness inside him.

‘I thought you …’ He stopped then, because it should not merit conversation, it was no business of his how she fed her babe. ‘Goodnight, then.’

She felt quite sure she was being dismissed. She headed to the bedroom and held tight to her baby, guilty tears coming as finally she put the teat of the bottle in Leo’s mouth and he suckled eagerly. His dark eyes
looking so lovingly up at her, not realising her guilt, unwitting of her failures.