this is Manalena,’ Xan was saying as the woman relinquished her hold at last. ‘Who has been with the family for a very long time.’
‘Kalispera!’ beamed Manalena, mimicking a rocking movement with her arms. ‘I have known Kyrios Xan since he was a baby.’
It was difficult to imagine this towering man as a baby, thought Tamsyn. To picture him small and helpless and vulnerable. ‘And was he a good baby?’ she asked, with a smile.
Manalena gave a shake of her greying head. ‘He never sleep and when he was a little boy, he never sit still. He is still like that now, and I am very happy he find a wife at last.’
Tamsyn remembered Xan telling her that his engagement to Sofia had been a private matter and for that she was grateful. Imagine if his staff regarded her as some kind of usurper and resented her, making her sense of isolation even more pronounced. She wondered how the housekeeper would feel if she knew the truth behind their whirlwind wedding and that Tamsyn was not the genuine and loving bride she must have hoped for. A flicker of discomfort washed over her as she glanced up at Xan while Manalena spoke to him in a torrent of rapid and babbled Greek.
‘Manalena has just been explaining that a special wedding breakfast has been prepared for us,’ he translated. ‘She is also complaining that this morning a member of my staff arrived from Athens and is getting under her feet.’
As if on cue, a sleek brunette emerged from the house, talking excitedly into a cellphone, before quickly terminating the call. Slim and sophisticated, it was impossible to know exactly how old she was, though Tamsyn would have guessed mid to late thirties. Shiny shoulder-length hair swung in a raven arc around her chin and her linen trousers and pristine cream blouse made her appear the very definition of cool. In her too-short wedding dress with the flowers beginning to wilt in her windswept curls, Tamsyn felt inferior in comparison, even though the woman was smiling at her in a friendly manner.
‘Hello! You must be Tamsyn,’ she said, her perfect English tinged with a fetching Greek accent. ‘I’m Elena and I’m very pleased to meet you and to offer my congratulations.’
‘Elena is my personal assistant from the Athens office,’ explained Xan. ‘She’s been overseeing all the wedding party preparations.’
‘I hope everything will be to your satisfaction,’ said Elena quickly. ‘Xan gave me carte blanche to make decisions about food and drink and decorations, so I did. I would have communicated with you directly except—’
‘I told Elena you were busy winding up your life in England,’ said Xan, meeting Tamsyn’s eyes with a bland look.
Tamsyn forced a smile because what could she say? That packing up her few miserable possessions had taken about five minutes and she might have welcomed having a little input into her own wedding party, rather than sitting around in the unfamiliar luxury of the Granchester Hotel, wondering what on earth she had let herself in for. Xan had given her a credit card and told her to buy an entire new wardrobe, one befitting the wife of a Greek tycoon. And although Tamsyn had half-heartedly done as he’d asked, she’d bought only what was strictly necessary, obsessively keeping all the receipts so that they could be included in a final tally when the divorce settlement came through.
Perhaps Xan had drafted Elena because he was afraid his new wife might prove incapable of choosing a sophisticated menu for their wedding party, despite holding her own that night they’d dined together at the Granchester. Or maybe he was worried she might let slip the true nature of their whirlwind romance—although he didn’t seem to be doing anything to bolster the false fairytale himself. He wasn’t exactly acting like a man who’d been swept away by passion, was he? She doubted whether that brief hand-holding exhibition would have convinced his housekeeper—or anyone else—that this marriage was for real.
‘I’m very grateful for your help,’ she told Elena brightly. ‘For a start, I don’t speak any Greek.’
‘Well no, not yet,’ said Elena with a friendly grin. ‘But you will. Like your new husband, it isn’t easy—but it’s certainly possible to master.’
‘I think you should kiss goodbye to your bonus, Elena,’ said Xan mildly, propelling Tamsyn forward with the brief caress of his fingers. ‘Come and meet the rest of the staff.’
The rest of the staff? Exactly how many people did he have working for him? Suddenly Tamsyn felt daunted by the line of workers who were waiting to meet her. Silently, she repeated their names before saying them out loud, terrified she would forget them before wondering why she was so anxious to please. There was Rhea the cook and pretty young Gia, who was in charge of the cleaning. A part-time driver named Panos, and Orestes the gardener, whose wife Karme helped Gia in the house when the need arose.
Tamsyn said hello to them all, using the few words of Greek she’d managed to learn before leaving England, but once again she felt faintly uneasy about deceiving these people who obviously adored her Greek husband and wanted the best for him.
Once again Manalena said something in Greek and Xan nodded, before glancing briefly at his watch.
‘The meal is almost ready, but there are a couple of phone calls I need to make first,’ he said. ‘Manalena will show you where to freshen up and I’ll meet you downstairs in the dining room in ten minutes.’
Feeling as if she’d been dismissed, Tamsyn followed the housekeeper up a sweeping staircase to the first floor, wondering how Xan was expecting to maintain the image of doting bridegroom if he couldn’t even be bother to show her to the bathroom himself! Yet she couldn’t deny a feeling of relief, that she would be spared the intimate reality of their shared marital space for at least a little while longer.
She walked down a wide and airy corridor, past walls covered with dramatic seascapes, until at last Manalena halted in front of a set of double doors. ‘This is your room,’ said Manalena, a note of pride creeping into her voice as she pushed open one of the doors.
Tamsyn walked into a room of breathtaking splendour with views right over the water, so that sunlight danced in an ever-moving lightshow over the pale walls. On the dressing table she could see the a pair of gold cufflinks set with sapphires which perfectly matched her new husband’s eyes. Xan’s room, she thought. And now hers, too. Her throat constricted. If it had belonged to anyone else she would have walked straight over to the window and feasted her eyes on the dark swell of the sea, but her attention was caught by something else. By the vast bed, on whose snowy covers someone had scattered pink rose petals—dozens of them—their scented splendour seeming to mock her. Another reminder of a romance which wasn’t real, she reminded herself, trying to erase the stupid sense of wistfulness which was clenching at her heart. Yet what could she do other than smile at the faithful housekeeper who stood anxiously in front of her, obviously awaiting her verdict on the honeymoon suite.
‘It looks very beautiful, Manalena,’ she said softly. ‘Efkaristo.’
Looking gratified, Manalena beamed and nodded. ‘I wait for you outside.’
Alone at last, Tamsyn kicked off her high-heeled shoes and wiggled her newly liberated toes. And even though she could have happily thrown herself onto the bed and tried to blot out what was coming next, she freshened up in the lavish bathroom, helping herself from a selection of costly bath products which had obviously been acquired for the new bride. Pulling the wilting flowers from her hair, she raked a brush through her hair, gradually removing the tangles until it fell in a thick and vibrant curtain all the way down to her waist. She eyed the spindly wedding shoes doubtfully and decided against putting them back on. With
