‘You’re an amazing support to him,’ she said, closing her eyes. ‘He’s lucky to have you. I just pray he doesn’t cause any trouble.’
* * *
At first, Stella didn’t recognise the thin, grey man walking towards her, struggling under the weight of a big green holdall.
Jon used to be solidly built but like her, he’d lost a lot of weight when Harriet died. The last time Stella saw him, she was pleased he seemed to have regained a few pounds. Clearly, it hadn’t lasted though, as he was thinner than ever now and looked much older.
He was wearing smart navy shorts, blue boat shoes and a white polo shirt, which was too big for him but appeared brand new. He was frowning but his face lit up when he spotted Stella and he removed his Panama hat and waved it at her.
‘You made it!’ Stella cried when he was close enough to hear. She held out her arms and he put down the holdall and walked into them, burying his face in her neck. She could feel his bony ribs and vertebrae when she hugged him and her neck felt damp. Was he crying?
His arms wove round her back, too, and he was much taller, but she seemed to be the one holding him up.
‘Hey!’ she said softly. ‘It’s good to see you.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he replied, retreating unsteadily and wiping his eyes with the bottom of his shirt. ‘I… I just felt so emotional, seeing you there, waiting for me.’ His breath came in judders.
‘You don’t need to apologise.’ Stella gave an encouraging smile, hoping he wouldn’t lose it completely. ‘Come on, let’s have coffee or a cold drink before we walk to the villa. I want to hear about your journey – and everything else.’
Bending down, she picked up one of his bag straps and he took the other, wordlessly. They settled in the same café where she and Louise had been the previous day. The waiter, a young man in jeans and a black T-shirt, arrived almost immediately. Before Stella had time to order, however, Jon jumped in.
‘This calls for a celebration! Let’s have a bottle of wine.’
His sudden jollity seemed out of place and she was taken aback. She was also thirsty and hadn’t been planning to drink alcohol; she’d rather have had lemonade or Coke.
Jon’s mind was made up, however, and he asked the waiter which local whites he’d recommend.
‘Vidiano is very popular,’ the young man replied. ‘The grapes are grown in the Heraklion area of Crete. It is quite full-bodied. I think you will like it.’
When he returned with a bottle and two glasses, Jon insisted on doing the pouring himself.
‘Here’s to us,’ he said, clinking glasses with Stella, whose eyes widened in surprise.
‘I mean, here’s to us having a great holiday – to everyone having a good one,’ he added quickly, before taking a sip of wine. ‘Delicious.’
Stella was relieved his mood had picked up so rapidly and she took a sip herself. The pale-yellow wine tasted rich and fruity. She’d better go easy or she’d be drunk in no time.
‘How was your flight?’ she asked, putting down her glass. He held the stem of his in both hands and played with it, twizzling it round a few times before drinking some more.
He told her the travelling was perfectly smooth and he’d had no problem finding a taxi to take him to the ferry.
‘Much more importantly, how are you? Are you managing to unwind?’
They were under a parasol and Stella extended her legs so they’d be in the sun. She was wearing shorts again – white ones this time – and decided they’d look better on her if she had a tan.
She was about to reply when he noticed the bandage with dried blood on one knee and the large, bluish-purple bruise on the other.
‘What on earth have you been doing to yourself?’
‘I fell – twice, on two separate occasions. I’m very clumsy.’ She smiled ruefully. ‘It’s okay, though; they’re getting better.’
‘Stella, that’s terrible!’
Dragging his chair closer to hers, he leaned over to get a better look.
‘Have you seen a doctor? There’s quite a lot of blood.’
His concern made her laugh. Neither of her children was remotely worried on her behalf. Even Louise had forgotten to ask how her cut felt this morning.
