‘Needless to say, my grandfather always denied the charge and we’ll never know the truth now.
‘My father was only a child at the time and Katerina was just a babe in arms, but she’s never been able to forgive or forget. Down the years, my father has tried to apologise, to atone, but she’s having none of it.’
Cleo frowned. ‘But you can’t blame the sins of the father on the son, surely? I would’ve thought Katerina would realise that.’
Marina nodded. ‘But there’s more to it. My dad was a terrible philanderer. Katerina was very friendly with my mum, Cora, except she wasn’t my real mum.’
Cleo’s eyes widened. ‘What do you mean?’ This was quite a revelation. And why was Marina choosing to confide inher?
‘Very few people know this,’ Marina went on, as if reading Cleo’s mind, ‘but I trust you. I’d rather it stayed just between us.’
She gave Cleo a meaningful look and Cleo nodded.
‘I won’t tell a soul,’ she promised.
Satisfied with this response, Marina continued her story.
‘Konstantin had an affair with Katerina’s employer, who was a very grand lady, the wife of the local mayor,’ she went on. ‘She got pregnant with me, and when her husband found out, he made her give me up and promise never to speak of me again. The whole thing was covered up and I was secretly given to Konstantin and Cora. No one knew except the parties involved – and Katerina, who facilitated the handover. I never met my real mum but I loved Cora very much and I was devastated when she died. I didn’t find out till I was much older who I really was. Katerina always said my real mother never recovered from losing me.’
‘How sad!’ Cleo commented.
‘Yes. But I saw a great deal of Katerina. She was like another mother to me, or an auntie. She used to bring me books from the big house, as I called it – from Villa Ariadne. She’s the one who taught me English and encouraged me to paint. I take great solace from the fact she gave my real mother regular updates and told her all about me – how I was, who my friends were, what I liked doing and so on. And despite all his faults, my father was a good dad. My real mum knew it and knew I was loved. That must have given her great comfort.’
Cleo hesitated for a moment, absorbing what she’d just heard. ‘That’s such a complicated, moving story,’ she said at last. ‘It must have been a huge shock for you when you found out Cora wasn’t your real mum.’
Marina took a deep breath. ‘It was, but I’ve been able to come to terms with what happened, I think because I had a happy enough childhood. I didn’t miss my real mother because I never knew her. The real problem now is Katerina. I just wish she could find peace. She’s getting old and she deserves it. She’s a good person, yet she harbours this poisonous resentment against my father and the wider family. I hate to think of it eating away at her until the day she dies.’
Cleo frowned. It was a lot to take in.
‘Why are you telling me all this?’ she said quietly. She had an uneasy sense she’d been singled out for a reason. Marina didn’t seem the type to wear her heart on her sleeve.
‘Because there’s something you need to do, to help,’ Marina replied mysteriously. ‘I can’t tell you what – I don’t know myself. All I do know is you have a role to play.’
Cleo gasped. ‘What role?’ Marina sounded so strange it frightened her and she felt a little angry and put upon, too. ‘How can I help if I don’t know what I’m supposed to help with?’
She thought back to that night in the restaurant, when Katerina had announced Cleo, Tash and Maya were going to be ‘tested’.
Who were the old housekeeper and Marina or more to the point, who did they think they were? Prophetesses? Ridiculous! Cleo would dismiss them out of hand if, despite everything, she didn’t like them and they didn’t seem sane in every other way.
She hadn’t noticed she and Marina were walking in step, their movements perfectly synchronised. As soon as she realised, though, she deliberately dragged her feet to break up the rhythm.
‘You will know what you need to do when the time comes,’ Marina said enigmatically. Then she pushed on ahead, leaving Cleo staring after her with a mixture of amazement, confusion, anger and dismay.
As soon as she entered the village, she could hear the sounds of scraping wood and murmuring voices. Maya was at the top of the high street, supervising a group of men clearing the main thoroughfare.
They moved with quiet efficiency, pushing carts of mud and detritus and clearing rocks that had fallen from shattered walls. Tash was there, too, laughing despite herself as she tried to herd a pair of stubborn goats past a pile of rubble.
Cleo picked up a shovel and joined the men. The work was harder than the day before, with deeper mud, heavier debris and waterlogged boards. Her muscles protested but there was something cathartic about it. She felt as if each push, each lift, was a way of fighting back against the destruction, a way of saying, ‘We will survive this’.
Before long, Achilles appeared beside her, carrying a heavy sack of sandbags. The muscles in his arms tensed as he set it down.
‘You’re back again?’ he asked, eyebrows raised.
‘Someone has to keep you lot in line,’ she said, with a faint smile tugging at her lips.
‘I don’t know who’s bossier, you or Maya,’ he said with a laugh. ‘Probably a tie.’
She would have liked to tell him about Marina and the strange things she’d said, but she’d made a promise and wouldn’t break a confidence.
