The Girl Below(87)

“It’s the fish, Mum, it’s rotten,” said Caleb, spitting out a mouthful.

“Nonsense, darling, we don’t let good food go to waste in this house.” Pippa looked at her husband. “Do we, Ari?”

At the sound of his name, Ari looked up, but he had missed Pippa’s question. Since arriving in Greece, he had been even less present than he had been in London.

“Tell them we don’t waste good food,” repeated Pippa.

Ari looked down at the untouched fish on his plate. “It’s revolting, Pip, and the last thing we need on top of everything else is food poisoning.”

“On top of my mother dying, you mean?” said Pippa.

Ari didn’t reply, but Caleb banged his fist on the table. “Mum, I told you it doesn’t matter about the stupid fish!”

Pippa turned to her son, blinking furiously. “Darling, it was awfully thoughtful of you to buy it for me. I just don’t know if I can eat it.” She pushed her chair away from the table and stood up, looking at Ari. “As for you . . . ” she said, starting to cry and covering her mouth with a napkin before heading in the direction of her room.

“You know I didn’t mean it like that, Pip,” Ari said to her retreating figure.

The rest of us were quiet after she left, except for Elena, who continued to chew and slurp as though nothing had happened. When she had mopped her plate clean with a piece of bread, she smacked her chops in delight and squeezed Caleb’s hand, saying something in Greek I couldn’t understand.

“You’re welcome, Grandma,” replied Caleb, with an imitation smile. “At least someone enjoyed the fish,” he said to us.

Immediately after supper, Caleb took off to his friend Yanni’s house, and Ari said we probably wouldn’t see him from now on. “They’ve been best friends since before they could walk; he practically lives over there.”

“Why didn’t he want to come if his best friend lives here?” I asked.

“He was testing us,” said Ari. “Seeing if we would bend to his will.”

I told myself that not seeing so much of Caleb would be a good thing, though inwardly I had lurched with dismay. When the meal ended, I excused myself and went to the sarcophagus to try and sleep. I was half strung out with exhaustion, but Elena had been into the room since the afternoon to light a few candles, turn on the halos, and generally fill the place with a toxic cloud of frankincense and myrrh. Out of desperation, I tried covering my head with a pillow, but couldn’t breathe at all, and I was still wide awake when Pippa came in later and called out to me. By the time I’d put on a T-shirt and pulled back the curtain, she was already halfway up the ladder.

“Golly,” she said. “You wouldn’t want to climb up here after a few drinks.” She was rueful about the scene at dinner, and ashamed that I’d had to witness the hostility between her and Harold. “I can control myself at first, but the tension builds up so quickly—then, when he comes out with one of his ludicrous allegations, I just go ballistic at him.”

“That’s family,” I said, too afraid to ask what he’d accused anyone of. “They know how to push your buttons.”

“Yes, but he’s also a stirrer,” she said. “He says things just to get a reaction.”

She trusted me too much. “Pippa,” I began. “I know you think I’m a good influence on Caleb but—”

“Oh you are,” she said. “He’s already changed. That thing with the fish was so sweet, so considerate. He hasn’t done anything like that for years.” She climbed onto the sleeping platform and made herself comfortable. “Only it made me feel terrible.”

“Because you had to eat it?” My comment barely registered, and I noticed that Pippa was distracted, struggling over the right words. “Have I done something wrong?” I said.

“I wanted to tell you before we left, and it’s been on my mind ever since we got here,” she said, finally.

“I can explain—” I began, but was cut off.

“I was very young,” said Pippa. “And I thought it was all just harmless fun—we all did back then.” She looked down at her lap and rubbed at an imaginary mark on her shorts. “We even called it bonking, like sex was just some kind of party game.”

She paused to gauge my reaction, while I tried to keep up with the change of direction the conversation was taking. Was she about to confess to sleeping with my father in the bathroom that night at the party? “It’s okay,” I said. “I really don’t want to know.”