Stretching her back, she listened carefully. Unlike in the palace, where there was always the undercurrent of movement even if it couldn’t be heard, the villa lay in silence. If she strained her ears she could hear Toby snoring lightly in his bedroom next door to her makeshift office. After his earlier meltdown she’d worried he would struggle to sleep, but he’d been out for the count within minutes of his head hitting the pillow.
She’d felt so bad for Theseus, who had watched the unfolding scene with something akin to horror. She wished she could ask him what he’d been thinking, but no sooner had their dessert been cleared away than he’d excused himself. Other than his email confirming approval for the earlier chapters she hadn’t heard from him.
She’d bathed Toby and put him to bed alone. Theseus hadn’t even come to give him a goodnight kiss.
Had that been the moment when the reality of parenthood had hit home and he’d decided that keeping his distance was the way forward? Not having to deal with any of the literal or figurative messy stuff?
Inexplicably, hot tears welled up, gushing out of her in a torrent. She didn’t try to hold them back.
She didn’t have a clue what she was crying about.
* * *
When Theseus returned to the villa from the palace the next day, the beaming smile Toby gave him lightened the weight bearing down on his shoulders.
Toby even jumped down from his seat at the garden table where he and Jo were sitting and ran to him.
It was only when he got close that Theseus realised all of Toby’s joy was bound up in Theseus’s companion—Helios’s black Labrador. It didn’t matter. It was good to see him smile after his misery the night before.
‘What’s his name?’ Toby asked, flinging his arms around the dog’s neck.
‘Benedict.’
Luckily Benedict was the softest dog in the world, and happy to have a four-year-old hurtle into him. His only response was to give Toby a great big lick on the cheek. If Benedict had been a human he would have been a slur on the Kalliakis name, but because he was a dog everyone could love him and fuss over him unimpeded.
‘That’s a silly name for a dog.’
‘I’ll be sure to tell my brother that,’ he answered drily, not adding that his brother was in fact Toby’s uncle. He didn’t want to upset him any more, and had no idea what the triggers might be.
‘Can we take him for a walk on the beach?’
‘Sure. Give me five minutes to change and we can go.’
Throughout this exchange Jo didn’t say a word as she leaned over the table, putting in the pieces of what he saw to be a jigsaw.
‘Are you going to join us?’ he called, certain that she’d been listening.
‘I would love to.’
‘Five minutes.’
He strolled inside and headed up to his room, changing out of his trousers and shirt into a pair of his favourite cargo shorts and a white T-shirt. When he got back Jo and Toby were waiting for him, bottles of water in hand.
Jo looked pointedly at his feet. ‘No shoes?’
‘I like to feel the sand on my feet.’
The strangest expression crossed her face. But if she meant to say anything the moment was lost when Toby tugged at her hand.
‘Come on,’ he urged impatiently.
Together they walked out of the garden and down a rocky trail, with Jo holding Toby’s hand tightly until they reached Theseus’s private beach.
As soon as his feet hit the sand Toby pulled his socks and trainers off and went chasing after Benedict.
‘He seems happier now,’ Theseus observed nonchalantly.
His attempt at indifference was met with a wry smile. ‘Don’t beat yourself up about last night. He was tired.’
‘He was also very upset.’
‘Tiredness always affects his mood. Don’t forget he’s in a strange place, with strange people, and a man claiming to be his father...’
‘I am his father.’
She looked at him. ‘He’s only ever had a mother. Stories of his father have been, in his head, the same as stories about the tooth fairy. He’ll be okay. Children accept change and adapt to it far more easily than we do, but it’s unrealistic to expect that to happen immediately. He needs time, that’s all. Be patient. He’ll come to accept you and our new life.’
He wasn’t convinced. Did he really want his son to be just okay? Childhood was a time of innocence and magic. Break the innocence and the magic evaporated.
Even before his parents’ deaths he’d had little innocence left. Having a father who’d made no attempt to disguise his irritation with his second son had had an insidious effect on him. His mother had tried her hardest to make up for it and he’d worshipped her in return. When she’d died it had been as if his whole world had ended. Yet he’d mourned his father too. Loving him and hating him had lived side by side within him. For his mother, though, he had felt only love, and it had been the hole left in his heart by her loss that had cut the most. If not for his grandparents he would have been completely lost. They’d always been there for him.