‘This was before Georgia became free of the Soviet Union?’
‘Yes. I love my country very much but I do not want to live there any more.’
‘What do you want?’
‘I want your advice,’ says Grazia firmly.
‘Fire ahead,’ says Rose.
‘This behaviour with Bernard and these clubs, this is not normal, no?’ asks Grazia.
‘Normal is a very elastic concept,’ says Rose slowly. ‘As is sexual desire. I’m sorry to use this phrase again but it’s a spectrum. Where you are on the spectrum and where Bernard is are two different places. Perhaps the only way Bernard can get sexual release is from no longer being in charge.’
‘That is not the case,’ says Grazia. ‘He does not need a girl with a whip.’
‘Well then that makes things a little different. Was he doing this when you met and married?’
Grazia nods. ‘I didn’t find out for years. After the children, it was another straw that has broken the camel’s back. I want to ask you, Rose, should I stay with him or divorce him? I am not with Bernard for money but he knows that if I divorce him, I will become a rich woman in my own right.’
‘Only you can answer that question, Grazia. If Bernard is not willing to give up seeing other women outside your marriage then the question is whether that’s a dealbreaker for you or not.’
Rose risks a final question: ‘Forgive me for asking this, Grazia, but Bernard says he will make me sorry for helping you. Do you think he’s serious?’
Grazia is silent. ‘Very serious. I am sorry I have brought this trouble to you.’
‘Well,’ Rose sighs, ‘I’ve brought a certain amount of trouble on myself. My past is not what everyone thinks it is.’
Grazia laughs. ‘That’s all?’ she says. ‘You are a strong woman to come out of that fire and forge a new life. If life is a book, we all have chapters we keep to ourselves. It’s our business. Who has a right to know?’
Rose is listening in fascination.
‘In my previous career, people wanted to know where I came from and what shaped me,’ Rose remarks.
‘Who says you have to tell them?’ demands Grazia. ‘I have parts of my life nobody can know. That is my business. Who we become in spite of everything:thatis who we are. The rest of our past is just gossip.’
Chapter Thirty-Four
Keera sits in the front of the taxi with Marceline on the way home and listens to the music: Fleetwood Mac are harmonising along to ‘Dreams’.
‘I love Fleetwood Mac,’ explains Marceline. ‘When I was younger, my friends all said I looked like Stevie Nicks,’ she adds happily, navigating the roads out of Corfu Town and speeding into the darkness on the way to Xanthe. ‘My hair was blonde and I loved a long, tiered skirt for sure – but I can’t sing a note!’ She laughs throatily at her own joke.
The sea glitters to the right of the car and Keera stares out into the silky darkness as Marceline drives towards Dassia and Ipsos. She likes to come into Xanthe from the mountains, she says because she was born in the village of Lafki so loves to be close to the island’s mountain ranges.
Bernard hasn’t spoken a single word, which no longer worries Keera.
If he wants to be a horrible person, then that’s his prerogative. He’s clearly spent his life doing just that.
It’s late and they’re her last drive of the evening, so Marceline is happy to listen to music now and not talk.
Keera sits quietly and listens to the guitars and drums soaring into the opening verse of ‘Dreams’. When Stevie’s exquisite contralto with its hints of vibrato starts, Keera feels an overwhelming sense of shame that she achieved so little in her music career.
She had so many chances and she blew them.
Tonight’s meeting has also made her think back to rehab.
Talking about the worst stuff she’d done while drinking and using. The sheer shame of that too.
She’s proud of what she’s achieved, kicking the drugs and booze. But it’s hard to look back at what might have been …
