‘How long do we have before we have to leave?’ he asked. ‘Please tell me exactly what the King said. I must know his precise words.’
‘The recommendation is that you leave by nightfall. The King was emphatic in his desire for you and your daughter to leave before anyone becomes aware that the royal family has gone. It won’t take long for the news to spread, and it may be safer for you to leave Greece, albeit temporarily.’
The messenger nodded and left then, and as she looked up at her father, waiting for him to explain what was going on, she was instead left alone in the room. Her heart was pounding as she sat, in silence, waiting for him to return, but when he never did, she eventually stood and made her way up to her room alone. Her mother would have been the one to explain to her, to soothe her worries and tell her what one should prioritise when leaving in a hurry.
Alexandra thought of her mother’s beautiful horses, left behind and no doubt wondering where their doting mistress was. She thought of the graveside she’d never sit beside again, the smell of her mother’s perfume as she passed by her bedroom. If she’d thought that she had a chance of staying behind before, she most certainly didn’t have one now, not after this sudden turn of events. She was leaving, whether she wanted to or not.
She ran upstairs, light-footed, to her mother’s dressing room and took the bottle of her perfume, still sitting there from when she’d last used it, then hurried to her own bedroom. Thalia would be up soon, she was certain of it, but in the meantime she began to take things from her wardrobe and place them on the bed, in preparation for her cases being brought to her room. She folded dresses and collected some personal items, but when she saw her copy ofPride and Prejudice, still sitting beside her bed from that day she’d last read it, the day that had changed everything, she picked it up and began to rip out the pages. She furiously tore them up, crying before throwing them all to the floor, like white petals fallen from a flower.
She would never read again. That was to be her punishment, for choosing her stupid book over spending one last day with her mother. She could have basked in her smiles and praise; she could have watched as her mother cantered effortlessly over jumps in the arena, making horse riding seem like the most beautiful sport there was. She could have been there when she fell, might have been able to do something to save her life, could have at least held her in her arms. But instead, she’d chosen to stay at home and bury her nose in a book.
Alexandra curled into a ball on her bed, lying on top of the clothes she’d just folded, her cheeks wet with tears as she tightly shut her eyes, as her body heaved and shuddered, her breath almost impossible to catch.
Losing her mother was one thing, but leaving Greece behind too? Everything she’d ever known and loved was being taken from her, her life changing in a way that she could never have imagined. Who was she without her family or her country?
Mama, how could you leave me? Why couldn’t it have been him, instead of you?
5
PRESENT DAY
Ella stood back, her arms crossed as she studied the canvas to make sure the position was perfect. They were showcasing one of their most popular artists from New York, and she wanted everything to be perfect for the Friday-night event. Some of her best customers would be coming into London to see the work, and she was hopeful that there would be sold stickers on every piece by the end of the night.
‘Ella?’
Her assistant, Becky, touched her arm and she smiled, having been lost in her own world. She was always like that when she was studying a piece of art—it was as if nothing else around her even existed.
‘Your mother is here to see you.’
‘My mother?’ Ella nodded but took a moment before turning, still staring at the canvas before giving her art hanger a thumbs up. ‘Thank you. It’s perfect.’ Ella looked at Becky, who was still hovering.
When she turned round, she saw her mother sitting stiffly in one of the oversize leather chairs they had near her desk. Ella walked over to her, her heels clicking and echoing through the gallery. It wasn’t that she minded her calling in, it was just unexpected.
‘Mum! What brings you here?’
‘I was hoping you might be free for coffee. Or I can always sit here until you’re ready to take a lunch break?’
Ella hugged her mum when she stood, making sure to hold on long enough that her mother knew how pleased she was to see her.
‘Is everything okay?’
She studied her face, pleased to see her nod.
‘Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?’
‘You just don’t often pop in like this, that’s all,’ Ella said. ‘But coffee sounds fabulous. Let me get my coat. I certainly won’t have you sitting here until my lunch break!’ What she didn’t tell her mother was that she rarely ever took one—she was more likely to send Becky out to buy something for her, so that she could eat without leaving the gallery.
Ella went to her desk and took her coat from the back of her chair. ‘I’ll be out for half an hour. Call me if you need me.’
‘We can survive without you for thirty minutes, El,’ Becky said with a roll of her eyes.
Ella knew they could, of course she did, but if anything went wrong, if a canvas was hung incorrectly or a client arrived looking for her, that was on her.
‘Let’s just walk down to Everyman Espresso,’ she said. ‘We can get takeout and go for a walk, or—’
Her mum looked at her sky-high heels and Ella laughed.
‘Trust me, I can walk for miles in these.’
