His Forbidden Bride (3 page)

rescue you?' Adele asked, deadpan.

One already tried, thought Zoe, but he drives a Metro, and always stays

inside the speed limit. And, anyway, I'm not sure who'd be rescuing whom…

'Not in Bishops Cross,' she returned, also straight-faced. 'White horses can't

cope with the one-way traffic system.'

She finished her tea, and put the mug in the sink. 'I'd better arrange to have

my mother's things taken out and stored in the short term,' she mused

aloud. 'Aunt Megan mentioned a skip,' she added with a touch of grimness.

'And I'd put nothing past her.'

'Not after that picture,' said Adele. 'Pity about that. Nice and bright, I always

thought.'

'It's not terminal y damaged—just needs a new frame. I'l take it in with me

tomorrow.'

'It'l be awkward on the bus. And there's a framing shop a couple of doors

from where Jeff works. Why don't I ask him to drop it off for you on his way

to work? Then you can pop round in your lunch break and choose another

frame. Just tie a bit of paper and string round it, and I'l take it with me now.'

'Oh, Adele, that would be kind.'

Adele had always been a good neighbour, Zoe reflected as she hunted for

the string. And, after Aunt Megan, her cheerful practicality was balm to the

spirit.

'She's made a real mess of it,' Adele commented grimly as Zoe went back

into the sitting room. 'Even the backing's torn away.' She tried to smooth it

back into place, and paused. 'Just a minute. There's something down inside

it. Look.' She delved into the back of the picture, and came up with a bulky

and clearly elderly manil a envelope.

She handed it to Zoe who stood, weighing it in her hands, staring down at it

with an odd feeling of unease.

'Wel , aren't you going to open it?' Adele prompted after a moment. She

laughed. 'If it was me, I couldn't wait.'

'Yes,' Zoe said, slowly. 'I—I suppose so. But the fact is, it has been

waiting—for a pretty long time, by the look of it. And, as my mother must

have put it there, I'm wondering why she didn't tel me about it—if she

wanted me to find it, that is.'

Adele shrugged. 'I expect she forgot about it.'

'How could she? It's been hanging there over the mantelpiece ever since

she moved here—a constant reminder.' Zoe shook her head. 'It's something

she wanted to keep secret, Adele, when I didn't think we had any secrets

between us.' She tried to smile. 'And that's come as a bit of a shock.'

Adele patted her on the shoulder. 'It's been quite a day for them. Why don't I

leave you in peace while you decide what to do? You can bring the picture

round later on, if you stil want it reframing.'

Left to herself, Zoe sank down on the sofa. There was no message on the

envelope, she realised. No 'For my daughter' or 'To be opened in the event

of my death'.

This was something that had remained hidden and private in Gina Lambert's

life. And if Aunt Megan hadn't total y lost it, and thrown the picture on the

floor, it would probably have stayed that way.

Maybe that was how it should be left. Maybe she should respect her

mother's tacit wish, and put it in the bin unopened.

Yet if I do that, Zoe thought, I shal always wonder…

With sudden resolution, she tore open the envelope and extracted the

contents. There was quite an assortment, ranging from a bulky legal-looking

document to some photographs.

She unfolded the document first, her brows snapping together as she

realised it was written in a foreign language. Greek, she thought in

bewilderment as she studied the unfamiliar alphabet. It's in Greek, of al

things. Why on earth would Mother have such a thing?

She put it down, and began to examine the photographs. Most of them

seemed to be local scenes—a vil age street lined with white houses—a

market, its stal s groaning with fruit—an old woman in black, leading a

donkey laden with firewood.

One, however, was completely different A garden guarded by tall cypresses,

and a man, casual y dressed in shorts and a shirt, standing beneath one of

the trees. His face was in shadow, but some instinct told her that he was not

English, and that he was looking back at whoever was holding the camera,

and smiling.

And she knew, without question, that he was smiling at her mother.

She turned her head and studied the framed photograph of her father that

occupied pride of place on the side table beside her mother's chair. But she

knew already that the shadow man was not John Lambert. The shape was

all wrong, she thought. He'd been tal er, for one thing, and thinner, and the

man in the snapshot seemed, in some strange way and even at this

distance in time and place, to exude a kind of raw energy that her father had

not possessed.

Zoe swallowed. I don't understand any of this, she thought. And I'm not sure

I want to.

She felt very much as if she'd opened Pandora's box, and was not

convinced that Hope would be waiting for her at the end.

She turned the snapshot over, hoping to find some clue— a name, perhaps,

scribbled on the back. But there was nothing. Slowly and careful y, she put it

aside with the rest, and turned to the other papers.

There were several thin sheets stapled together, and when she unfolded

them she realised, with sudden excitement, that this must be a translation of

the Greek legal document that had so puzzled her.

She read them through eagerly, then paused, and went back to the

beginning again, her brain whirling. Because the stilted, formal language

was tel ing her that this was a deed of gift, assigning to her mother the Vil a

Danaë, near a place cal ed Livassi, on the island of Thania.

Zoe felt stunned, not merely by the discovery, but by its implications.

This was a gift that Gina Lambert had never mentioned, and certainly never

used. And that she'd clearly not wanted known. That she'd hidden in the

back of a picture, which itself suddenly assumed a whole new significance.

Was it the recapturing of a cherished, but secret memory? Certainly that

was how it seemed, particularly when she recalled how it had never been on

show during John Lambert's lifetime.

She read the translation through a third time. The name of the gift's donor

was not mentioned, she noticed, although she guessed it would be in the

original. And there were no restrictions on the villa's ownership either. It was

Gina's to pass on to her heirs, or sel , as she wished.

Yet there was nothing in the few remaining papers, consisting of a few

tourist leaflets, a bil from a Hotel Stavros, and a ferry ticket, to indicate that she'd disposed of the Vil a Danaë.

And she left me everything, thought Zoe, swallowing. So, unlikely as it

seems, I now own a vil a in Greece.

She realised she was shaking uncontrol ably, her heart thudding like a

trip-hammer. She made herself stand and walk over to the cupboard where

her mother's precious bottle of Napoleon brandy still resided, and poured

herself a generous measure. Emergency tactics, she told herself.

When she was calmer, she fetched the atlas, and looked to see where

Thania was. It was a small island in the Ionian sea, and Livassi seemed to

be its capital, and only large town.

Not very revealing, Zoe thought, wrinkling her nose.

But Adele's sister works in a travel agency, she reminded herself. She'd be

able to tel me al about it—and how to get there.

Because she had to go to Thania, there was no question about that. She

had to see the Vil a Danaë for herself—if it was stil standing. After al , it had belonged to an absentee owner for a long time, and might be in a state of

real neglect and disrepair. But I have to know, she thought, taking another

swift swig of her brandy as her pulses began to gallop again. And I have

some money saved, and the whole summer vacation in front of me. There'l

never be a better opportunity.

She wouldn't keep the house, of course. If it was habitable, she'd put it on

the market. If it was fal ing down, she would just have to walk away—as her

mother, apparently, had done before her.

But I'm not just going to see the villa, she thought. I want to find the answers

to some questions as wel . I need the truth, however painful, before I move

on—start my new life.

She picked up the photo of the shadow man, and stood, staring down at

him, wondering, and a little scared at the same time. Asking herself who he

could be, and what his part in this mystery might be.

She sighed abruptly, and hid him back in the envelope with the rest of the

paperwork.

I'l find you, too, she thought. Somewhere. Somehow. And whatever the

cost.

And tried to ignore the involuntary little shiver of misgiving that tingled down

her spine.

The rail of the boat was hot under Zoe's bare arm. Ahead of her, the craggy

outline of Thania rose from the shimmer of the sea.

Even now, with her target in sight, Zoe could stil hardly believe she was

doing this. The tension inside her was like a knot, endlessly being pul ed

more tightly.

She had told no one the real purpose of her visit to the island, not even

Adele. She'd pretended that the envelope had merely contained souvenirs

of what had been, clearly, a holiday her mother had once enjoyed, but

memorable to no one but herself, and consequently not worth mentioning.

'I need a break, so why don't I try and discover what she found so

entrancing?' she'd laughed.

'Wel , don't be too entranced,' Adele warned. 'And don't let any local Adonis

chat you on board his boat,' she added severely. 'We don't want you doing a

Shirley Valentine. You have to come back.'

I'm my mother's daughter, Zoe thought wryly. And she came back, whatever

the incentive to stay.

Aloud, she said lightly, 'No danger.'

She'd told the same story of her mother's favourite island to Adele's sister

Vanessa when she made the booking at the travel agency. Notwithstanding,

Vanessa had tried hard to talk her into going somewhere larger and livelier.

'Thania's never been a typical tourist resort,' she'd protested. 'A number of

rich Athenians have homes there, and they like to keep the hordes at bay.

The hotels are small, and the beaches are mostly private. It's al low-key and

the nightlife barely exists. The ferry runs just twice a day from Kefalonia.'

She brightened. 'Why don't you stay on Kefalonia instead? See all the