‘No, me neither.’
They actually had something in common. A week ago, Grace would have bet money that that was never going to happen. Maybe there was more to him than met the eye.
Will took a step back.
‘Good to chat. I don’t want to disturb you further. Enjoy your afternoon. Fabulous earrings by the way. But I’d take them out if you’re going swimming.’
Grace’s hands went up to her ears. Damn. She’d forgotten to remove her sparkly gold drop numbers after lessons finished.
‘See you around sometime.’
Not if I see you firstwas what Grace wanted to say. There was still something about him she didn’t quite trust. He always seemed to be on the brink of laughing at her.
‘Yes, maybe.’
Will, whose name she could now never forget, strode off up the beach and onto the path to the houses above the beach, the individual muscles in his back moving in unison.
Grace touched her hand to her head.
Of course. Will was gay. Not that she was bothered either way. But it all fitted together. He was far too attractive to be straight, for one thing. Plus, he lovedWill and Graceand had called it groundbreaking. Phil couldn’t bear the show and she’d usually watched it while he was at the pub and the girls were in bed.
Plus, Will had noticed her earrings. No straight man she knew cared about earrings. If you blindfolded them, they wouldn’t be able to tell you the style or colour of the ones you’d had on all day. And he smelt wonderful. It wasn’t conclusive evidence, but how many more clues did she need?
ChapterSix
Stelios’s little face still had Grace worried. The boy’s solemn dark eyes seemed huge in his head, and he hadn’t put up his hand once during the lesson. When she’d pushed him to answer a direct question, his reply was vague. Even when she’d allowed the others to let off steam with a five-minute race around outside, he’d just sat on a bench and watched everyone else.
During her long career in primary education, she’d seen everything from children losing their parents before they were ten to pupils having to cope when a father went to prison, and, in a couple of cases, full-on abuse. She really didn’t think any of these scenarios applied here, but she knew what an unhappy child looked like.
The bell rang for the end of the class and Grace waited in the playground and ticked off her list as each child went home with a parent or trusted carer. When Stelios’s mother, a smartly dressed but harassed-looking young woman, arrived, she took her opportunity.
‘Can I have a quick word with you in the classroom, please.’
The woman frowned but nodded.
‘Can you take Stelios, and I’ll be in in a minute.’
Grace was unsure how much Stelios could understand, so she didn’t want to take any chances. She settled him with a book in the corridor outside and ushered his mother in.
‘Please call me Grace.’
‘And I am Konstantina. Pleased to meet you.’
Thankfully the woman’s English seemed adequate for the conversation ahead.
‘I won’t keep you, but I’m a little concerned about how quiet Stelios is in class. I don’t want to pry, and be assured that everything that is said here is strictly confidential, but is there anything going on at home that I should know about?’
Konstantina’s eyes immediately filled with tears, and Grace was compelled to put her hand on the woman’s arm.
‘His pappoús, or grandfather… my father’—the woman sat back for a moment—‘is dying. We are very near the end now, and although we haven’t told Stelios everything, I know he feels it.’
Grace’s heart went out to her.
‘They adore each other. Stelios is an only child, and you know how close Greek families are. My husband and I own a couple of restaurants in town, and we work long hours, so his pappoús has been a big figure in his life. He taught him how to swim, how to fish…’
The woman’s tears were streaming down her face now.
Grace got up and put a box of tissues at her side. Konstantina had a good blow before she spoke again.
