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.
Agathi in particular resented the way Jason spoke to her. He used such a condescending tone with her, as if addressing a servant, when it was clear she was so much more than that. She would glare at him: I was here before you, her eyes screamed, and I’ll be here after you.
But Agathi never spoke out of turn. She never criticized Jason to Lana—who remained blind to all of his faults. Lana had a stubborn habit of always seeing the best in everyone—even the worst of people.
“Okay,” Kate said. “I’m going to unpack. See you lot at dinner.”
She downed the rest of her champagne. Then she slung her bag over her shoulder. She left the kitchen.
* * *
Weighed down by her bags, Kate descended the narrow flight of stone steps to the lower level.
The summerhouse was at the end of the swimming pool. The pool was made of green marble, surrounded by cypress trees. Otto had it designed to blend in with the original architecture of the main house.
Kate liked staying down here—away from the main house, it offered her privacy, somewhere removed, where she could retreat.
She let herself into the summerhouse and dropped her bags on the floor. She considered unpacking but it was too much effort. She caught her breath.
Kate felt like crying, suddenly. She’d been feeling emotional all day; and just now, the sight of Lana and Leo together—so happy in each other’s company, such easy, intimate affection—made her feel a pang of sorrow, mingled with envy—and strangely tearful.
Why was that? Why, when Leo took his mother’s hand, or touched her shoulder, or sweetly kissed her cheek, did Kate want to cry? Because she felt so desperately lonely, herself?
No, that was bullshit. It was more than that, and she knew it.
It was being here, on the island—that’s what bothered her. Being here, knowing what she had come to do. Was it a mistake? A wrong idea? Possibly … Probably.