Page 13 of Villa of Secrets

Rebecca gasped. Ten possibilities of fertilisation in the Petri dish. Ten chances of a perfect child. Ten chances of her dreams finally coming true.

*

Rebecca woke in the night, squinted at the bedside clock, 3 a.m. She turned, slid her hand between the sheets and found a cold empty space where she hoped to find the man she loved. Her other hand lay flat on her belly, another cold empty place where she longed to nurture a tiny life that she would also love. She stared towards the ceiling and allowed tears to spring free and slide into her hair.

*

The next morning, Fritz phoned. ‘Sorry, darling. It turned into a late night so I booked into the hotel rather than disturb you. How was your day?’

‘Good, yes, very good actually,’ she said. ‘I went to the clinic. I’ve to go back in four days.’

Somebody was speaking to Fritz. ‘Sorry, darling, I missed that,’ he said to Rebecca, and then, ‘Can you please give me a minute?’ to somebody who was vying for his attention. He came back to her. ‘Sweetheart, it’s manic here. I’ll speak to you this evening, okay?’

Rebecca found it hard to think of anything but the clinic.

How many of the ten eggs were successfully fertilised? Fritz’s sperm, ‘harvested’ and banked a month back, had saved Rebecca having to go through the fertility injections all over again because Fritz hadn’t been able to keep their appointment.

‘Just in case,’ they’d told Fritz as they handed him the plastic beaker and ushered him into The Men’s Room. ‘Always best to freeze a quantity of sperm.’

The clinic told Rebecca they’d phone with the result the moment they had news. The day ticked by. Rebecca’s hopes descended a little further with each minute, until she resigned herself to failure.

She thought of Naomi. Her sister only had to look at Costa to get pregnant, even before they were married. Her first, Angelos, was born six months after the wedding. Her next, Konstantinos, had made an appearance almost exactly a year after Angelos. Rebecca was jealous. She recalled her nephews when they were toddlers: Angelos and Konstantinos were adorable.

Through the kitchen window, she gazed at her garden of empty dreams and decided to get some fresh air. Plant some bulbs, bring new life to the borders.

Her phone rang as she settled on the kneeler. She dropped the trowel and snatched her mobile from the trug of mixed bulbs.

‘Mrs Neumanner?’ Quentin Alsop, the specialist.

Rebecca’s heart hammered. ‘Yes, that’s me, Rebecca Neumanner.’

Chapter 7

Rhodes, Greece.

Papas Yiannis had rushed to church the moment Naomi arrived home, but that evening he looked in again while she slipped to the supermarket.

‘Bubba’s taking a nap,’ he said when Naomi returned. ‘She’s had a glass of milk with her pills and settled down to sleep.’ He folded his arms across his wide chest and dropped his head to one side. ‘The past week’s been a great strain, Naomi, but now that you’ve agreed to her wishes, I’m sure you’ll see an improvement in her health.’

‘Thanks for this morning. I appreciated the break,’ Naomi said as she loaded cheese and eggs into the fridge. Turning to face him, she took in the dark grey cassock that he still wore, although officially retired. As usual, the priest had unbuttoned the skirt and tucked the corners into his leather belt. His long grey beard was gathered into an elastic, and his shoulder-length frizzy hair caught-up and tied in a neat knot on the nape of his neck.

Naomi realised everything about Papas Yiannis was grey, yet he was the most colourful character she had ever come across. A modern-day icon of the traditional Orthodox priest. Picture-postcard perfect.

‘Apologies for dashing off this morning,’ he said. ‘The last rights, a dear old friend.’

‘Sorry for your loss. It must have been difficult.’

‘Did you post the parcel, Naomi?’

She nodded.

‘Any problems?’ Naomi shook her head. ‘Good. I didn’t think so. Encourage Bubba to talk. It will help relieve the burden of her past.’

Burden of her past? What burden? What past? She nodded again but he recognised her puzzled look.

‘Don’t worry. You’ll understand when you read the diaries.’

‘Thank goodness for that,’ Naomi said before she found herself bewildered again. ‘Just a moment . . . what diaries?’