“Right you are.” Louisa moved aside. “If I do get ahold of Andreas, is there anything you want me to tell him? Any message I can pass on for you?”
Tell him I’m sorry. Tell him I didn’t mean to lie. Ask him why he never told me the truth—why I can’t stop thinking about him.
Skye’s finger curled around the strap of her bag. She took a breath, held it.
“No,” she said. “Nothing.”
Fifty
Skye spotted her mother immediately.
She was sitting at one of the indoor tables, a laptop open in front of her and a look of studied concentration on her face.
“Oh, good,” she said, barely glancing up as Skye slid into the seat opposite. “I was hoping you’d roll up at some point this morning.”
“I got held up,” Skye said. She explained briefly about the police. “I thought you might’ve been having a lie-in.”
Her mother blinked at her.
“When have you ever known me to have one of those?”
“Well, not often, but—”
“There’s far too much to do to waste time sleeping. I’ve been here since six. Luckily, Pantelis was here. He very kindly let me in and made me coffee. In fact, I’ve had rather a lot. They make it strong here, don’t they?”
At the mention of his name, the taverna owner materialized beside the table. Solidly built with large, wide-set eyes, full lips,and thick, straight hair, Pantelis had the easy charm of a Labrador. Skye was sure that if he’d had a tail, it would be perpetually wagging.
“Kaliméra,” he said, propping a menu in front of her. “Frappé?”
“Please. I mean,parakaló.” She smiled up at him. “Milk and sugar.”
“Entáxei.”
He turned toward her mother, pencil tapping against his small notepad.
“I’m fine for now,” she trilled. “We’ve been chatting at length,” she told Skye as Pantelis strode briskly away. “Did you know, for instance, that Folegandros began as an asylum for those banished from Crete? It started life as a place for runaways and miscreants.”
“I guess that’s appropriate.”
“I rather thought so,” her mum said cheerfully. “Now, we had better discuss this situation with Martyn.”
She had sluiced seamlessly into professional mode, and looked the part, too. Her blond bob neatly straightened, the blouse and slacks immaculately pressed. In her crumpled shorts and ratty sneakers, Skye felt teenaged by comparison.
“What he said,” she said hesitantly, “last night, about me hating you, it’s not true.”
A flicker of pain passed across her mother’s face, gone almost before it surfaced.
“I mean it,” Skye went on. “I know we’ve had ups and downs, that things have been strained between us, but I don’t hate you, categorically not.”
Her mother nodded, though her eyes darted away, fixed on something beyond the boundaries of the taverna. Silence hovered for a moment, only to be shattered by a returning Pantelis. He put down Skye’s frappé along with bowls of fresh fruit topped with yogurt and honey.
“On the house,” he said. “To welcome your mother to the island.”
Cassandra began to flap her hands in protest.
“There’s no point arguing,” Skye said. “The first thing I learned when I moved here was that real Greeks like to eat. The wisest thing you can do is enjoy it.”
“Bravo!” Pantelis agreed.
