‘Sorry,’ stammers Bernard.
‘I think Europol will be in touch,’ Christos says, leaning in the doorway, his presence forcing Bernard to cower.
They see Bernard’s eyes widen in fear and then Christos slams the door.
‘Well done,’ says Dianne to Grazia as the car starts to move down the drive with an expensive hum.
Grazia has tears in her eyes but her face is strong.
‘It had to end,’ she says. ‘There are so many things a marriage can manage but not contempt.’
‘And not such lies,’ Rose adds.
‘Keera,’ calls a voice. ‘I’ve been looking for you! Where’s your wig?’ Bobbi shrieks.
‘I’m up,’ says Keera to India.
‘You can do it,’ says India. ‘The rest of your life, right?’
When Keera has gone, everyone else vanishes until it’s just Rose, Adriana and Christos at the front of Villa Artemis.
‘I thought it was all over for us,’ says Rose, her eyes misty as she looks around at the scene of all their hard work.
The pool Christos loves near the end of the drive, the wild ranks of lavender massed around olive trees.
‘I knew we would come through it,’ says Adriana. ‘No matter what. We have each other, that’s all that matters. If we lost this, we could start again.’
Chapter Forty-Three
Keera’s brought a pot of coffee, some water and fruit, and they sit at the big olive table.
After some water and a little sip of coffee, Bobbi looks better, as if she’s waiting for a mere moment before she launches into telling Keera just what she’s doing wrong.
That’s probably her mother’s plan, Keera thinks.
What was that little saying Rose had about looking for help in the wrong places?
Keera’s the one who has to change.
She leans closer to her mother and says ‘I love you, Mom,’ which surprises Bobbi.
‘What?’
‘Love you, Mom, I know you’ve been there for me for a long time but I can’t have this argument with you.’ The words race out of Keera and she tells herself to slow down. ‘I’m not going back into the music business as a singer. Maybe as a songwriter, yes, but I can’t do the touring or the performing. If I do, I’ll be using meds again or drinking again. I can’t do that.’
‘You’re a singer – that’s what you do!’ her mother says heatedly. ‘That’s the only way to get the money back.’
Keera remains calm.
‘Mom, can you tell me why we’re so broke?’ she asks evenly. ‘How much money have I earned over the years? Where’s it gone?’
It’s like lighting touchpaper.
‘I looked after everything for you,’ screeches Bobbi. ‘You have no idea what I’ve done, what I went without in the early days …’
Keera stops listening to the tirade.
Keera knows her mother hasn’t heard her.
