The Daughter-in-Law, page 1
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For Kathryn and Michael With love and huge thanks
A daughter’s a daughter all of her life. A son is a son ’til he takes him a wife.
Anon
1
Travelling to the island had been a trial for all of them. An early start, a taxi that didn’t turn up, the subsequent nail-biting wait for an Uber, Hope’s discovery that there were two WH Smiths at Gatwick’s North Terminal and she was standing by the wrong one, along with two toddlers and three exhausted adults hadn’t made the journey easy.
That had only been the start.
After a six-hour flight to Kapodistrias, they’d boarded the ferry to Paxos, with all the hunger and heat that involved. Everything turned into a combination made in hell, and one that had almost brought all three adults to the point of regretting coming at all. Why were they putting themselves through this?
Then, they’d finally arrived.
A modest, white-washed villa was tucked away off the main road out of Loggos, the small port where they’d arrived. Surrounded by gnarled olive trees, it boasted a glinting blue pool, a terrace dappled with sunlight and a deliciously cool interior.
‘Now, which room shall we put Granny in?’ Edie sounded as if she was balancing on a tight wire. She adjusted six-month-old Hazel on her hip. The baby had barely slept since they’d set off, and tempers were beyond frayed. Hope had tried to help but Hazel had only wanted her mother.
What could a grandmother do?
Betty – the 22-month-old – toddled in and out of the four bedrooms. ‘Gwanny,’ she said firmly, pointing towards the prettiest space.
‘No, darling. I don’t think so.’ Edie had followed her into each room to check. ‘This big bed’s for Mummy and Daddy. Granny Hope can go here.’
‘Here’ was a more modest room containing two simple wooden beds with thin mattresses, each with a single pillow. Basic. A plug-in mosquito killer flashed quietly in a socket on one side of the room. White-and-blue-striped curtains hung limp in the heat at a small window. The walls were uneven and white-washed, decorated only by a couple of large scenic photos: boxy white houses flanking steps leading down to a harbour; a line of crowded tavernas at the edge of a small port lit up at night, with the moon shining out of a starry sky. Quintessential Greece!
‘Does that suit you, Mum?’ Paul came in from the hire car. He carried her suitcase and dumped it at the foot of a bed. He straightened up and pushed the hair off his face, shiny with sweat.
‘Anywhere suits me, darling.’ At that moment, Hope could have lain on a bed of nails and slept.
Already, Edie and the girls had gone off to find their own rooms.
‘No, this one has the cot in!’ Edie sounded at the end of her tether.
The two of them listened, and Paul gave his mum a sympathetic smile. ‘Why don’t you have a rest? It’ll all be shipshape by the time you wake up.’
Hope had never been so grateful. The early start was beginning to take its toll, and she could feel a sharp headache drilling in above her right eye. Once Paul had left, she took a swig from the bottle of water she’d bought at the port in Corfu, now unpleasantly lukewarm, and lay down on the bed nearest the window. High above it, a small green lizard was poised motionless. She gazed at it, charmed. Outside, she could hear Paul and Edie arguing.
‘But I need her to help with Hazel.’
‘Give her a break. Let her rest first.’
‘For God’s sake, Paul! Do I have to do everything?’
‘Shhh!’
Hope closed her eyes. This was going to be a test for all of them. Hearing them talk about her behind her back like that hurt. Nothing she did seemed to narrow the distance between her and Edie. The harder she tried, the worse their relationship got. Perhaps she should have refused their invitation, but she could use ten days in Greece. She’d been working hard and needed a break. And what could be better than holidaying with her son and family? In theory. She breathed deeply and tried to rationalize. What she’d overheard was simply the result of a tiring journey, nothing more. This holiday was a chance to strengthen if not build bridges. She’d hold on to that thought.
When she woke up it was to a scream from Betty, somewhere in the villa. ‘Swimming!’
Hope checked her phone. She’d been asleep for an hour and a half!
‘You have to wait till Daddy gets back.’ Edie still sounded as if she was about to snap.
Betty’s scream of protest echoed through the villa.
Hope heaved herself off the bed, hot and sweaty. Her hair stuck to her temple and her headache was still there, but no worse. She opened her door and followed the sound of voices to the large open living room, feeling more sleep-deprived than ever. ‘I’d love a swim. I’ll take Betty.’
‘Would you? Really?’ Edie gave her a grateful smile of relief. She stood at the kitchen end of the room, drinking from a bottle of Orangina. She’d changed out of her jeans into a cool, floaty dress. Betty was sulking on the sofa, naked apart from her nappy, with one leg in her swimming costume, deflated armbands on the floor. Hazel was nowhere to be seen, presumably in bed.
‘Unless you’d like to go. I can look after Hazel.’ This feeling of having to tread on eggshells when dealing with her daughter-in-law was constant. Hope didn’t want to say the wrong thing but seemed to fall into that trap more often than not.
‘She’s asleep at last, so I’d love a few minutes to myself. Thank you.’ Edie put the bottle down with a firm ‘chink’ as it hit the white-tiled work surface.
‘Do. I feel much better for a nap.’ In fact, she didn’t, because now she felt guilty for having had one. Edie looked exhausted. Two kids under two… it was understandable.
Betty ran over, holding out her armbands and her sweet candy-striped swimsuit.
‘Just give me a second to change, sweetheart.’
Shadowed by Betty, Hope went back into her room and hefted her suitcase onto the second bed. Her packing was efficient, including nothing unnecessary or that might crease, so it took just a second to find her bikini. Slipping into the next-door bathroom to change, she couldn’t help wondering whether she was too old to be so underdressed in public. She checked what she could see of herself in the small mirror. Perhaps she had put on a pound or two since she’d last worn it – one of the hazards of her profession. As a professional chef, if she didn’t taste the food she was preparing, how could she guarantee its quality to her clients? Besides that, she loved food and the pleasure she could give through it.
‘Sod it!’ she said to herself. ‘If you’ve still got it, carry on flaunting it. And this is hardly public after all.’
She was less confident when she and a pool-ready Betty emerged from her room and caught Edie’s barely disguised surprise at the modest (by most standards) two piece. That lift of the eyebrow was almost enough to send her running back to change. Deep breath. Instead, she took Betty’s hand. ‘Let’s go, then. Race you!’
‘We don’t do competition. Remember?’ Edie’s words followed them outside.
Bollocks! thought Hope, taking no notice.
The pool was by the wall dividing them from the next-door villa. Warning signs proliferated. No swimming between 3pm and 6pm. No diving. No screaming. Try not to splash. Consider the neighbours. Presumably the ones in Greek echoed the sentiment. They may as well have included one saying: Do not enjoy yourselves on any account.
‘Sit here while I get in, and then I’ll get you.’ Hope inched her way down the metal pool steps. With a sharp intake of breath, she launched herself into the pool, flipping herself on to her back to stare upwards at the cloudless sky. A single vapour trail cut through the blue. The water was divinely refreshing, the sun blinding. She shut her eyes. For a second, she felt herself beginning to relax when she heard a shout from the side. ‘Gwanny! In!’
Immediately Hope upended herself, feet on the bottom of the pool, and put her arms out for her granddaughter, who hurled herself in, went half under, came up and then clung to her. They took a walk round the shallow end.
‘Show Granny how you can swim, Bets.’ Paul appeared, carrying two large plastic bottles of water and some bulging supermarket bags. ‘I’ll just get all this stuff into the kitchen, then I’ll join you. It’s sweltering.’
Hope let her granddaughter go. She stood in the corner of the pool shadowed by an olive tree, encouraging Betty to swim to her. She had an urge to remove the armbands – they weren’t helping at all as Betty floundered in the water – but she didn’t dare.
After a while, Paul appeared with Hazel, who looked adorable in a flamingo-decorated swim nappy and a pink T-shirt and hat.
‘Edie’s gone for a lie down. Can you take Hazel while I blow this up?’ ‘This’ was an inflatable green ring with a seat in its centre.
Hope put Betty on the side before taking her sister. She hugged the chubby baby to her as Hazel looked uncertainly at the water surrounding them. The next thing, she was beaming as her grandmother raised her high then lowered her until her toes touched the water. ‘Wheeee!’ Hazel kicked her legs in delight.
Once Hazel was safely inside the swimseat, Paul towed her roa
‘Daddy! Me!’
Hope grasped her under the arms and swooshed her around so she yelled for more. At that moment, Hope felt a burst of happiness. At last, things were looking up.
* * *
Later that evening, Hope put Betty to bed. The toddler had a cot in her own room that was similar to Hope’s. Exhausted and in her unicorn pyjamas, the little girl listened while Hope read her a Meg and Mog book, snuggling into her grandmother as if she was the last person in the world. Afterwards, they had another hug and a kiss good night before Hope tucked the sheet over her, making sure she had her dummy and her toy lion. Hope stood, quite content, in the dimly lit room with a reassuring hand on Betty as she settled (the method Edie had shown her). She waited until her granddaughter’s breath slowed and she was confident she could leave the room without waking her.
While Edie settled Hazel, a harder task judging from the yells coming from the baby’s room, Hope started supper from the ingredients she had asked Paul to buy at the local supermarket – a simple lentil-based moussaka (Edie had recently decided vegetarian was the healthy way forward) and a Greek salad. She had quickly made herself at home in the kitchen, the place in any home where she always felt relaxed but in charge. For her, the acts of cutting and chopping and mixing were almost meditative, calming. Then came the aromas from what she was cooking, but most of all she loved serving people a plate of delicious food. Seeing their enjoyment gave her huge pleasure. The bottles of retsina and local white wine (less healthy but holiday essential, Hope suspected) were chilling in the fridge.
Edie eventually emerged from Hazel’s room. ‘God! What a nightmare. She can be so stubborn,’ Edie said, opening the fridge door and taking out a bottle. ‘Paul!’ She called to her husband, who was sitting on the terrace with a book, having changed from his swimming togs into navy-blue shorts and a pink T-shirt. ‘Drink?’ When she turned round, she seemed to notice Hope preparing the vegetables for the first time. ‘Oh! You’re not doing supper, are you? That’s so sweet, but I thought Paul and I might go out to one of the tavernas on the harbour tonight. Didn’t he say?’
‘No. He must have forgotten.’ Hope put down the knife. To be relegated to resident babysitter on the first night was a bit hard. She was surprised at Paul.
‘I’m sorry, Mum. I meant to mention it.’ Paul stood up and came into the kitchen. ‘You don’t mind, do you? We can always eat this tomorrow.’
True, although she had imagined them eating together on their first night. But no matter. Holidays were all about being flexible and going with the flow, she reminded herself.
‘Of course. Why don’t you two go and enjoy yourselves? I’ll have my supper here and watch the kids.’
To her surprise, Edie kissed her on the cheek before pouring each of them a glass of retsina. ‘You’re fabulous. Thank you. I know this is going to be a wonderful holiday. I’m so glad you came with us.’ She raised her glass in a toast. ‘To us. And now, I must change.’
Hope tried not to grimace as the retsina – more petrol than grape – scorched her throat. ‘You might have said something, Paul.’
‘It went clean out of my head. I’ve said I’m sorry.’ Paul put his arm around Hope’s shoulder.
It was funny to think how her little boy she had loved so much had turned into this man whose head was often in the clouds. He had married someone who, as a barrister, had twice the ambition he ever had. A barrister and a carpenter. Hope sometimes wondered what it was they found in common.
‘Thanks. Of course, it really doesn’t matter. I’m glad to help. I want you to have a great holiday.’
‘We will, Mum. How could we not?’ He gestured towards the swimming pool and the loungers at one end.
Edie reappeared a few minutes later in a pretty sleeveless dress, her dark blonde updo immaculate. ‘Now if either of them wake up, don’t bring them out of their room. That’s not a habit I want to encourage.’ She grimaced at the idea. ‘If desperate, you could give Hazel some milk. There’s a made-up bottle in the fridge but you’ll have to warm it in a pan of water. Betty will probably just need her dummy putting back in. And…’
‘Don’t worry. I’m sure everything will be fine,’ Hope tried to reassure her, without pointing out that she had in fact babysat for them many times and knew the rules. ‘And if I really have a problem then I can always call you. But I’m sure it won’t come to that.’
At last, Edie and Paul drove off through the olive grove, leaving Hope feeling isolated and taken for granted. She scrambled herself some eggs and sat on the terrace to eat them, baby monitor at her side. The surrounding olive trees whispered in the gentle breeze that had sprung up. Otherwise, all she could hear was the constant chirrup of crickets, and perhaps a frog. Somewhere in the distance, a donkey brayed. The silence from the next-door villa suggested it was empty. She sighed. This was balm for the soul, not so bad after all.
After checking on the children, she settled down with the thriller she’d begun on the plane. A skinny ginger cat wandered silently out of the trees and straight up to the house. She shooed it away, but it seemed to expect a welcome as it threw itself on the ground, offering its tummy to be tickled. Hope obliged. ‘My new friend. I should put Bloater on your diet.’ Her own rescue cat was probably about twice the size of this one.
As the evening wore on, Hope realized that she was enjoying her enforced solitude. The tension of the day dropped away and she was free to enjoy where she was without having to watch what she was saying or doing. Betty slept contentedly, and although Hazel had woken about an hour after Edie and Paul had left, she had gone straight back to sleep after half a bottle of milk.
They arrived back late, delighted with the charm of the harbour and the freshly grilled fish they’d eaten, bursting with news about the friends they’d made: Jim and Bernie from Cambridgeshire who had a two-year-old daughter and a baby. What a coincidence! How lucky was that? But no grandmother in tow, Hope noted before she announced she was turning in.
* * *
The following morning, Hope was first awake. The early sun flared through her curtains inviting her out to explore. The previous day’s exhaustion had left her and she felt refreshed and ready to go. If she was going to be on babysitting duty for the rest of the day, she might as well make the most of her time alone.
Up and dressed, she tiptoed through the villa, but there wasn’t a sound from the other rooms. She slipped through the gate, closing it behind her. Walking through the olive grove, she enjoyed this moment of freedom. The two modern houses she passed were quiet. Metal rods stuck up from the top floor, the buildings unfinished. A couple of dogs were snoozing in a fenced run, raising their heads to watch her passing, while hens scratched about in the dust. A couple of bicycles were propped by the closed front door.
As she reached the end of the grove, the olive trees gave way to pines, and pine needles carpeted the path that led towards the cliff and the crystal-clear aquamarine sea glittering in the sun immediately below. To her left, a road leading towards a small car park. To her right, a path that meandered down to a small cove, with white sand and a single rowing boat. Hope glanced about her. There was no one around. She couldn’t resist the siren call of the water, so set off down the path as a couple of tiny blue butterflies danced past her. On the horizon, a single yacht was heading towards the island, white sail bright against the deep blue. She held her arms out, enjoying the sun’s warmth on her skin. The heat would be ferocious later, but this felt perfect.
The path was getting steeper, stonier and more precarious. Maybe this had been a mistake. Then, as she turned a sharp bend, she felt her left foot slip from beneath her. She reached out, but there was nothing to grab on to. As she fell to one side, her right ankle turned over with a distinctive and agonising ‘pop’. Winded, she lay where she was for a few moments, then carefully sat on the path. At least she hadn’t fallen over the edge. Small mercies. Her right ankle was throbbing. Looking down, she saw that it was already so swollen the bone was starting to disappear.
‘You idiot, Hope,’ she said aloud.
