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Familiar blackness filled her as she thought of the man who had taken Ari from her. Remembered the vile things he’d said about Carla, the contempt in his eyes when she’d taken his cheque. His banning her from ever seeing Ari again.
Eyes shadowed, she rounded a display of soft toys, pausing to check the price and flinching when she saw it. Then, across the aisle, she heard a voice that stilled her utterly.
‘Ari, my darling, speak English—remember we are in England now.’
As if in slow motion, Ann’s head turned. A little way away was a huge railway track, laid out with trains whizzing around. Children crowded to see it. Right in her line of sight was a small child, flanked by two women with their backs to Ann.
‘That’s the train Uncle Nikki is buying me!’ came a piping voice.
The younger woman beside him turned to smile. Ann saw her profile and gasped, her hand flying to her throat. Four years might have passed, but Ann recognised instantly the nanny who had taken Ari from her arms. The little boy beside her must be…must be…
She felt faint with shock, staring, transfixed. Even as emotion convulsed her, the nanny’s gaze shifted outwards slightly and caught hers. Ann could see her expression change as she recognised her. Then the older woman saw the nanny’s expression, and turned as well.
It was Ari’s grandmother. It had to be! For a moment the older woman, elegantly beautiful, but with a frail air about her, returned Ann’s stare with mild curiosity, and then her brow puckered questioningly. She murmured something to the nanny, who nodded slowly, assessingly, then walked across to Ann.
‘You will excuse me, please,’ she said in an accented voice, curious and a little hesitant, ‘but…is it possible…? Could you possibly be…? You have a look about you of my grandson.’
Ann swallowed, unable to move, her throat still tight as a leash. Then, into her eyeline came another figure. Much taller, male, clad in a black cashmere overcoat, striding towards the train display from the cash desk. Ann’s breath caught in her throat. Simultaneously the man’s head skewed round, his eyes searching for his mother, absent from his nephew, who was still absorbed in watching the trains scurrying round the track. They lighted on Ann and
he stopped dead.
In a second she made her decision. She took half a step forward.
‘Yes, I am Ann Turner. Ari’s aunt,’ she announced.
After that it became a blur. The expression on Sophia Theakis’ face turned to pleasure, and she reached out her hands to take Ann’s and draw her forward. Immediately Nikos Theakis strode up, his face like thunder. But his attempt to intercept the greeting was too late.
Sophia Theakis held up one small but imperious hand to her son. ‘Nikki, this is quite extraordinary,’ she said, speaking English. ‘Look, this is little Ari’s aunt. I can scarcely believe it!’
Her son’s face might have been carved from stone. ‘Extraordinary indeed,’ he drawled, and the menace in his voice vibrated like a warning.
But Sophia Theakis did not hear it. Instead, she was drawing Ann towards where her grandson was still riveted by the train display. She laid a gentle arm on his shoulder, spoke something low in Greek and turned him around. For the first time in four long years Ann looked into the face of the little boy she had last seen as a tiny baby.
His face blurred as her eyes hazed with tears. She dropped down to a crouch and took his little hands.
‘Hello, Ari,’ she said quietly.
The child frowned slightly. ‘Ya-ya says you are my thia. But I haven’t got a thia, only a thios—Uncle Nikki. Are you married to Uncle Nikki? Then you would be my thia,’ he reasoned, with impeccable logic.
Ann shook her head slightly. His grandmother said something, again in Greek.
‘But I haven’t got a mummy any more. She and my Daddy live in heaven,’ said the little boy.
‘Your mummy had a sister, Ari,’ said Ann, her voice husky as she spoke. ‘That sister is me.’
‘Where have you been?’ demanded Ari. ‘Why have you not been to see me?’ He sounded indignant as well as confused.
‘I live very far away, Ari,’ said Ann, trying to give the child an explanation he could cope with.
‘Ari.’ Nikos Theakis’ deep voice cut curtly across hers. ‘We are keeping Ya-ya waiting and delaying your…aunt. She is a very busy woman. I will accompany her to her taxi.’
His voice was as grim as his face, and as he spoke Ann felt his hand clamp heavily around her forearm. Removing her from the scene of her crime was evidently his first concern. But he had reckoned without treachery from within.
‘Nikos!’ said his mother, surprise and disapproval in her soft voice. She spoke to him rapidly in Greek, with the expressive use of her hands. As she spoke Ann saw his face harden, grow even grimmer. He bit something back to her, and shot a glowering glance in Ann’s direction. His mother raised astonished eyebrows, then said something again in Greek to her son.
Nikos Theakis’ face set, then he gave a brief, curt nod. ‘As you wish,’ he said tightly, in English.
Sophia Theakis smiled, and then turned that smile on Ann. Graciously, she invited Ann to lunch, taking Ann’s hands in hers.
