The Fury(10)

Kate and I were much more similar creatures; if it hadn’t been for Lana, we might have ended up as friends. That is my only reproach to Lana and all her kindness to me; that she accidentally came between Kate and me. As soon as Lana and I started becoming close, you see, Kate began to view me as a threat. I could see it in her eyes—a new hostility, a competitiveness for Lana’s attention.

Regardless of how she felt about me, I found Kate to be fascinating and obviously talented—but also complicated and volatile. She made me feel uneasy, or perhaps cautious is a better word—the way you feel around an unpredictable, bad-tempered cat, liable to lash out at you with no warning. I don’t believe you can ever truly be friends with someone if they frighten you. How can you be yourself? If you’re afraid, you can’t be authentic.

And, yes—I was afraid of Kate. I had good reason to be, as it transpired.

Ah. Have I revealed that too soon? Possibly.

But there it is, I have said it. I must let it stand.



* * *



We landed at Mykonos Airport—a glorified landing strip, which made it feel even more exotic. Then we took a cab to Mykonos Old Port, to pick up the water taxi to the island.

It was late afternoon when we arrived at the port. It was the stuff of picture postcards: blue-and-white fishing boats, tangled nets like balls of wool; the sound of wood creaking on water; the thin smell of gasoline on the sea breeze. The bustling waterfront cafés were packed; there were the sounds of chatter and laughter; and the strong aromas of sludgy Greek coffee and deep-fried squid. I loved it all—it felt so alive; part of me wanted to linger here forever.

But my destination—or should I say my destiny?—lay elsewhere. So, I clambered into the water taxi after Kate.

We began our trip across the water. The sky was turning violet as we crossed. It was getting blacker by the second.

Soon, the island appeared ahead, a darkening mass of land in the distance. It was almost ominous in the dusk light. Its austere beauty never failed to fill me with something akin to awe.

There she is, I thought. Aura.





7





As Kate and I neared the island, another speedboat was leaving it.

It was being driven by Babis—a short, tanned, bald man in his sixties, smartly dressed. He ran Yialos restaurant in Mykonos—and, subject to a decades-long agreement initiated by Otto, Agathi would phone ahead with a grocery list, which Babis would then deliver; as well as arrange for the house to be aired and cleaned. I was glad to have missed him—he was a bore and a snob, in my opinion.

As he passed us, Babis slowed down his boat. He made a performative show of bowing deeply and ceremoniously to Kate. Three elderly cleaning women were sitting in the back of his boat, next to a pile of empty grocery baskets. As he bowed, the old women exchanged stony looks behind his back.

I bet they hate him, I thought. I was about to comment on this to Kate—but one glance at her told me to keep quiet. She hadn’t even noticed Babis. She was staring ahead, at the island, a deep frown on her face. She had become increasingly morose as the journey went on. Clearly something was on her mind. I wondered what it was.

We arrived on Aura and carried our bags in weary silence up the long driveway.

There, at the end of the path, was the house. It was all lit up, a beacon of light, surrounded by darkness.

Lana and Leo welcomed us warmly. Champagne was opened; and apart from Leo, we all drank a glass. Lana asked if we might like to unpack and freshen up before dinner.

I asked for the same room I always had—in the main house, the room next to Lana’s. Kate requested the summerhouse; where she had slept so well, last summer.

Lana nodded at Leo. “Darling, will you help Kate with her bags?”

Leo, ever gallant, was already on his feet.

But Kate declined. “It’s fine, love. I don’t need any help. I’m a tough old bird. I can manage. I’ll just finish my drink.”

At that moment, Jason wandered in, staring at his phone, scowling deeply. He was about to say something to Lana when he saw Kate and stopped. He didn’t see me.

“Oh, it’s you.” Jason gave Kate a smile that seemed a little forced. “Didn’t know you were coming.”

“Ta-da.”

“Darling, I told you I invited Kate,” said Lana. “You’ve forgotten, that’s all.”

“Who else is here?” Jason sighed. “Jesus, Lana, I told you—I need to work.”

“No one’s going to disturb you, I promise.”

“As long as you didn’t invite that prick Elliot.”

“Hello, Jason,” I said, from behind him. “Lovely to see you, too.”

Jason was startled and had the grace to look embarrassed. Kate roared with laughter. Lana laughed, too. So did Agathi.

We all did—apart from Jason.

And so I come to Jason.

I may as well admit it’s impossible for me to write about him with anything approaching objectivity. I’ll do my best, of course. But it’s difficult. Suffice to say, Jason wasn’t my cup of tea. Which is a very English way of saying I couldn’t stand the man.

Jason was a funny chap. And I don’t mean amusing. He was handsome—well-built, with a strong jaw, clear blue eyes, dark hair. But his personal manner was a constant puzzle to me. I couldn’t tell if he was being deliberately brusque—that’s a polite word—and didn’t give a damn that he was being rude. Or if he just wasn’t conscious how he made other people feel. Sadly, I suspect the former.