“What picnic?”
Leo laughed. “Don’t you remember? It was your idea. Mum says hurry up.”
Kate had no idea what he was talking about.
And then, vaguely, hazily, it started coming back to her—a recollection of overexcited drunken plans, hatched last night, to have a picnic on the beach. The thought of food right now made her feel physically sick.
Leo banged again.
Kate lost her temper. “Give me a fucking minute!”
“How many minutes do you need?”
“Five hundred thousand.”
“You can have five. Then we’re going without you.”
“Go, now. Please leave.”
Leo sighed heavily. His footsteps retreated.
Swearing under her breath, Kate sat up, wearily swinging her feet over the side of the bed. Her head was heavy and she felt woozy. Christ, she felt rough. The latter part of the evening was a total blur. Had she said anything she shouldn’t? Done something stupid? It would be just like her to betray herself in a drunken slip. That mustn’t happen. She must keep focused.
Idiot, she thought, be more careful.
She had a quick shower to wake herself up. Her head was aching—but she didn’t have any aspirin. So she took half a Xanax instead. There was nothing to wash it down with, except the dregs of a bottle of champagne from last night. Feeling rather sordid, she popped a cigarette in her mouth. Then she grabbed her sunglasses, and, as a sudden afterthought, the script for Agamemnon.
Thus armed, Kate left the summerhouse.
* * *
As she walked to the beach, Kate passed Nikos’s cottage.
The cottage was very much in harmony with its surroundings. Built from stone and wood, it had a tall green cactus growing outside the front door, partly covering one wall. Huge, thorny cactus leaves spread out along the path. Ivy was growing up another wall, a tangle of leaves and stems. An old rope hammock was suspended between two gnarled, bent olive trees.
Kate slowed down as she walked by and peered at the cottage. Something had attracted her attention. What was it?
The smell, or that sound? What was that noise?
A loud buzzing, like a beehive—but the smell wasn’t honey. It was a disgusting, creeping stench—suddenly so revolting that Kate’s hand flew to cover her nose. It stank of flesh gone bad; rotting meat, putrefying in the sun.
Then she saw the source—both of the sound and the stink.
A black cloud of wasps, buzzing around a stump of wood. On the wood, the remains of a bloodied carcass of a small animal. A rabbit, perhaps. It was crawling with ants and wasps, fighting over it, devouring it.
Kate felt sick to look at it. She was about to walk off when she noticed a figure at the window, staring at her.
Nikos was standing there. He was shirtless. He was looking right at Kate. Expressionless, his blue eyes fixed on her.
Kate felt an involuntary shiver. She kept walking and didn’t look back.
15
Leo advised us to give up waiting for Kate, so we made our way to the beach without her. Lana walked slightly ahead, laden with towels. Leo and I followed, carrying the heavy picnic hamper, each of us holding a handle.
Of the several beaches on Aura, this was my favorite. It was the smallest; Agathi called it to diamandi—“the diamond”—and it was a jewel, a perfect beach in miniature.
The sand was soft, thick, and white, like sugar. Pine trees grew almost all the way to the water’s edge, dropping a fine carpet of green needles on the sand, which crunched under your feet. The sea was crystal clear where it was shallow; farther off, it became green, aquamarine, turquoise; and, finally, a deep, dark blue.
Years ago, Otto had a wooden raft built a little way out—a raised platform, bobbing in the waves, accessible by a rope ladder. I would often swim out to the raft, keeping my head above water, a book clenched between my teeth; climb up, lie in the sun, and read.
That morning, we parked the picnic hamper in the shade of a tree, then Lana and I went for a swim. The water temperature was fairly bracing, but not too chilly for the time of year. Lana swam to the raft, and I followed her.
Alone on the beach, Leo opened the lid of the hamper and investigated its contents.
It was indeed a feast, prepared by Agathi—baked vegetables stuffed with rice and mincemeat, stuffed vine leaves, different kinds of local cheeses, smoked salmon sandwiches, sweet melons, and cherries.
Apart from fruit, there wasn’t much vegan fare for Leo. He searched dispiritedly through the hamper—until, at the bottom, he found it. Wrapped in cling film, labeled L, was a small stack of tomato and cucumber sandwiches on brown bread, with no butter.