Enough. That had been then. Before the horror of the divorce. Before Eloise’s departure. Before his father’s ‘toughen Stefan up and make him a prince’ notions. Before the anger and the blame in his brother’s eyes. Before the emotions he couldn’t forget, followed by his brother’s utter lack of support through his father’s ‘make Stefan a prince’ regime.
Hell, he was trying, but each meeting with Frederick was so damned awkward—there was a vibe of anger, of strain, that neither of them seemed able to circumvent. Not that it mattered. As long as they continued to pull off a public pretence of civility that was all that was needed. All that he’d signed up to.
The Captain steered the boat to a small harbour and Stefan followed Holly onto the wooden jetty, hauling the picnic basket with him, and soon they were crossing golden sands.
‘It’s magic,’ Holly said as they came to a halt. ‘It feels like it’s a million miles from anywhere.’
The sea seemed impossibly blue and the waves lapped gently against the sands. Flecks of sunlight dotted the green fronds of the palm trees that dotted the beach.
‘I think that’s why my mother loved it here: the seclusion gave her peace. I remember the last time we came here...’
The scene was vivid. The present faded and Eloise seemed to shimmer in front of him, kneeling in the sand, making a reluctant Frederick apply sun lotion, helping build a sandcastle.
‘Frederick ran off to explore the caves and I had a monster tantrum because my mother wouldn’t let me go with him—said it was too dangerous. I lost it, but she didn’t—she didn’t even raise her voice.’
She never had... It had almost been as if she’d known their time together was limited.
‘Instead she hugged me, told me that when I was older we’d explore the caves together. It never happened.’ It was a promise she hadn’t been able to keep. ‘This is the first time I’ve been back since then.’
‘Then let’s go and explore now.’
‘You sure?’
Holly raised her eyebrows. ‘I’m twenty-four years old, and I was brought up on a lemon grove where I roamed wild. I’m pretty sure I can rock-climb.’
‘Then let’s go.’
As they clambered over rocks, discovered trickles of water and debated the difference between stalactites and stalagmites, he watched Holly, saw the lithe, sure grace with which she moved, the impatient pushing away of tendrils of blonde hair as they escaped her ponytail so that vibrant corn-coloured curls bounced off her shoulder.
As if she sensed his scrutiny, she smiled at him. ‘You OK?’
‘Yes.’
Somehow Holly had taken a bittersweet memory and created a new, happy one to blend with it. And he hoped that somewhere, somehow, his mother could see this, would know that he’d finally explored the caves.
For heaven’s sake, Petrelli. Get a grip.
‘Let’s go eat—I’ve gone from ravenous to desperate!’
Once back on the beach, they unpacked the food: mini-quiches, tabbouleh salad, pork pies, tiny sandwiches, cheese straws and succulent Lycandrian olives, black and green and glistening in oil. They heaped their plates, sat back in the warmth of the sun and ate.
She shifted closer to him, turned to face him. Almost as if she had read his mind, she said, ‘If Eloise could see you she’d be proud of you.’
The words cut him, threatened to destroy the warmth of the day, and as if on cue the sun hid behind a passing cloud.
Stefan shook his head. ‘I don’t think so.’ If he’d been stronger, toughened up faster, jumped through the hoops his father had set, he could have saved her. That would have been something to be proud of.
‘Well, I do.’
‘Even if she would it wouldn’t change anything.’
Not a single one of his achievements could change his mother’s life and how it had panned out.
‘The misery of her marriage, the horror of the custody battle, the fact that her love for me meant she suffered whatever my father meted out, her exile from Lycander...’
‘That wasn’t your fault. None of it.’
‘If she hadn’t loved me her life would have been a whole lot easier. Without me her life would have been immeasurably better.’