Page 25 of Villa of Secrets

‘Now, here we go,’ the specialist said. ‘I’m inserting a very fine catheter, with your eggs held at the end, into your uterus . . . there, see?’

Rebecca watched the thin white line with a dot on the end move towards the centre of the screen.

‘I’m about to manoeuvre them into position.’ He squinted at the monitor. ‘There we are, perfect.’

Rebecca glanced at the specialist; his eyes sparkled. She twisted her neck and stared at the monitor again.

‘Now, here’s an amazing fact,’ he said. ‘Let’s zoom in. I want you to watch the screen very carefully. When I let the embryos go, you’ll notice a minute, but very distinct, flash come from the eggs.’ She heard the excitement in his voice. ‘So you see, Rebecca, sparks really do fly when a miracle happens.’

And then she saw it. The tiniest flash.

Chapter 12

Rhodes, Greece.

A noise distracted Naomi. She looked up and saw Heleny scuttling down the street, towards her. Reluctantly, she closed the diary and slipped it behind the pot of basil.

‘Naomi, I hope you don’t mind me interrupting you at this time of night, but I’ve been trying to catch you alone. You know you’re my best friend, and I wondered . . . well . . . I need some advice.’

Surprised to see Heleny wearing full makeup, elegantly coiffured, and dressed in a red shift that revealed her heavy curves with startling frankness, Naomi patted the empty seat next to her. ‘’Course I don’t mind, Heleny. You look glamorous . . . and pleased with yourself. What’s going on?’

Naomi’s friend batted mascaraed eyelashes and grinned. ‘I have a lover,’ she whispered, her smile radiant. ‘He can’t get enough of me and I feel wonderful! It’s that perfume you gave me, I swear.’ She sniffed her wrist. ‘It makes me feel so womanly.’ She did a kind of slow wiggle in which every part of her moved in one direction or another. ‘At first, I just dabbed it on my neck. That’s when he became interested. So, I splashed a little here.’ She stuck her finger between her voluptuous breasts. ‘We went to the pictures, and he had his face in my chest before the end of the film.’

Naomi laughed. ‘You don’t think it might be because he’s attracted to you and your bosom?’

‘No, I can prove it’s the perfume working. I invited him to try my moussaka last night, but before he arrived, only in the name of science of course, I put a few drops in my pants, you know, on my . . . unmentionables.’ Her eyes widened and she pointed, as if Naomi wouldn’t understand. ‘Down there.’

Naomi struggled to keep a straight face. ‘And?’

‘Fannes and I were at it like rabbits all last night.’

Suddenly, Naomi realised how insecure and lonely her neighbour had been, and felt slightly ashamed that she hadn’t been a better friend. She remembered how Rebecca would always come to her whenever she had a problem, asking about boys as if Naomi was an expert. But surely Rebecca’s life was perfect now, with her rich husband and her house in the glamorous city of London.

She took Heleny’s hand and said, ‘Well, let me tell you something about Fannes: he’s a very lucky man.’

Heleny’s face flushed. ‘The thing is I used too much perfume. Now I’ve run out and I’m afraid the magic will fade if I don’t wear it. Only . . . it’s been a difficult month and—’

Naomi clicked. Heleny survived on a part-time cleaning job at the school and never usually indulged herself. She must have spent a fortune on the dress and makeup.

‘Sorry to interrupt but you’ve reminded me, I need some of those delicious melt-in-the-mouth shortbreads you make.’

‘Kourabiéthes?’

‘That’s the ones. With Bubba to care for, and my lotions and potions, I haven’t had a moment to bake. I realise it’s a terrible cheek, Heleny, but if I give you the ingredients, would you do me a huge favour and knock a batch up, in return for a couple of bottles of perfume?’

Heleny’s smile widened. ‘You don’t have to pay me, Naomi. I’m happy to help.’

‘You’re very kind, but I’d hate to take advantage. Would you mind? I understand if you’re too busy with Fannes.’

‘No, no, I love baking. It’ll be a pleasure.’

‘Then sit tight while I get the stuff you need.’

Naomi slipped indoors, grabbed a carrier and threw packets of icing sugar, flour, butter, and the other staples that made the snowy-white sugar-coated biscuits. On top of the ingredients she placed two bottles of perfume. When she returned to the patio, her friend had opened the diary near the end and was reading.

‘Heleny, that’s private.’

‘Sorry, it’d fallen behind the plant pot. What powerful writing,’ she said prodding the page. ‘It’s true then . . . Bubba, and the war?’