Page 11 of Deep Blue Lies

TEN

I finish my shift at ten, and I’m exhausted by the end.

I grab a take-away souvlaki on the way back, it’s this hot spiced meat with salad in a soft, warm pita bread, and it’s totally, amazingly delicious, if not the heathiest choice.

The arrival at my new home is less wonderful though.

It wasn’t lovely in the warm midday sun, and now it’s dark it’s even worse.

Even though Klaus told me how hard it is to find anywhere to stay at this time of year, all of the other buildings around mine seem empty and dark.

Inside the apartment I throw all the lights on, to try and cheer it up, but the bulbs are the cheapest, low-watt versions you could possibly get.

Probably this is good though, because the place really is filthy.

The bed has sheets, that’s the good news.

The bad news is I don’t think they’ve been washed since last summer.

But it’s late, and I’m too tired to care too much.

The next morning I head straight down to the harbour for a coffee and breakfast. Then on the way back, I stop by at the supermarket. I’m not working today, so I’m going to clean my house.

The same woman who gave me the tip about the job is serving again.

I remember now that Hans called her Maria.

She gives me a friendly smile as I come in, and I smile back.

I still don’t see how this shop does it, but even though it’s tiny, it seems to have everything I need, and somehow it’s all arranged exactly where I expect to find it.

I buy bathroom cleaner, bleach, rubber gloves and a scrubber, and I even find sheets and lightbulbs.

I gather it all and head up to the tills, where Maria is serving an old man.

Serving and chatting, I should say. To my slight surprise, they’re both speaking English.

The man takes a copy from a stack of newspapers.

“So, the old ADR is coming down then?” the man says, glancing at the front page.

“That’s what they say,” Maria replies. “About time, if it’s true.”

I’m only half listening, but then I remember Hans used the term ADR for what he called the Aegean Nightmare Resort. The ADR must be what the locals call it.

“No doubt the Mayor will get his piece,” the man goes on, and I glance up at him, seeing how this seems to annoy him. Maria simply gives him an indulgent smile.

“No doubt.” She seems to be aware of how I have my arms full of products, while the old man looks happy to stand there talking, leaving me waiting with nowhere to put them. “He always does.”

Finally the old guy pays, and Maria starts to scan my shopping. The place does have a real old-fashioned feel, but at least she does have a scanner.

“I hear you were successful with Hans,” she says, looking up suddenly.

“Oh, yes,” I say, then I add, “thank you.”

“A pleasure to help. But do watch out with that one.”

I’m not sure what she means by that. Or maybe I do. Either way, I hold out my hand. She seems kind.

“I’m Ava.”

She stops what she’s doing and takes my hand. “Hello, Ava. I’m Maria.”

“I know,” I say, smiling at the momentary confusion on her face. “Hans told me.”

“Ah.” She continues to scan my shopping. My eye falls on the newspaper. I hadn’t noticed, but there’s a picture of the derelict Aegean Dream Resort on the cover. There’s not much point me buying a copy though: it’s written in the Greek alphabet.

“He told me the story of the old resort,” I say, slightly blurting the words out. “It’s really shocking.”

Her reaction isn’t quite what I expect. She nods, but it’s like she doesn’t fully agree with me.

“Well. It was a long time ago.”

“Yeah,” I reply. I feel like I’ve slightly insulted her, which wasn’t my intention. I’m curious what the newspaper article is about though.

“What’s happening to it now?” I indicate the newspaper.

“Oh.” She brightens at this. “There was a planning meeting, last week. They finally agreed to knock it down and replace it with apartments. I expect they’ll be too small, and too expensive for local people…” She shrugs. “But you know. It’s been a long time,” she repeats.

I stand for a moment, wondering about the horrible thing that happened there.

“Hans said the man there was English.” I’m not sure why I say this, and Maria looks confused too, which makes me try to clarify. “The man who killed those people? And threw the head in the swimming pool.”

“The head in the swimming pool?”

Now I’m confused. “The man killed all those people, and then cut the woman’s head off?”

Maria stops now, looking at me closely. “This is what Hans told you?” She shakes her head. “No, no. Nobody got their head cut off.”

I want to know more, but she does too.

“What exactly did he tell you?”

I reply, giving her the story of the man who rampaged around the resort, killing guests and decapitating one woman. Now I have to repeat it, here in the shop, I feel foolish. Even more so as a disapproving frown rises on Maria’s face.

“No. That’s not what happened. Not what happened at all.” She shakes her head again. “It was long before Hans was here, but he clearly has an appetite for a story.” I think she’s not going to continue, but it seems she’s just organising her thoughts.

“It had nothing to do with the swimming pool. And only two people died. Although that’s more than enough to qualify as a tragedy, don’t you think?”

I don’t know. I wait for her to go on.

“The man who died was English, that part is true. And I suppose he must have gone crazy, in some way. Because he was a nice man. A very nice man. Up until he did what he did.”

I wait again.

“What exactly did he do?”

She watches me a moment, and I’m not sure if she’s going to tell me. But then she shrugs, almost lightly.

“He was the manager of the resort, and one night he killed his girlfriend, apparently. She was a lovely girl who also worked there. She was also the mother of his baby.” She shakes her head now.

“Then I suppose he couldn’t live with the shame of it, so he took his own life right afterwards.

Such a horrible thing. A horrible, horrible thing.

” She falls silent, seemingly lost in thought.

“Apparently?” I ask, because the word snags in my mind. She hesitates still.

“That’s what they said. And I suppose they’d know. But there have been rumours over the years, and it never quite seemed to add up to me. That’s forty-four euros please.”

My hand jerks to my bag, I’d nearly forgotten where I was. I find my purse and hand over the notes. While she gets my change I find myself asking another question.

“What was it that didn’t add up?”

She stops what she’s doing and looks at me. I shouldn’t have asked. I was just in a good mood this morning, because I’m going to tackle my apartment. I’m about to apologise for prying, when she starts to reply.

“I suppose it’s the baby. Normally when you read about these things – these murder-suicides that happen from time to time – the man kills the wife and the children. But this time he left the baby alive. I always thought that was strange.”

I don’t reply to this, and she seems lost in thought again, her hands still holding my change, but doing nothing to hand it over. I see her eyes go to the newspaper, the headline in Greek about how they’re finally knocking it down.

“The actual owner of the resort was an Englishman too.” Maria seems to come back to life.

“He was a nice man as well. He had a house on the island, but his wife refused to stay, after the murder. Then she got ill, back in England, and he wasn’t able to reopen the ADR. He was too busy looking after her.

We all thought it was going to reopen, at some point.

But it never did. Then when he died a few years back, I think there were issues with the will, and it’s taken that long to get permission to knock it down and start again.

” She pulls in a deep breath and finally hands me my change.

“About time. It’s been empty more than twenty years.” She smiles.

I’m about to say something else, when this catches in my mind.

“Twenty years?”

“Mmmm.”

I want to correct her, to tell her that Hans told me it was only ten years since the tragedy, but everything else Hans told me is bullshit. So that makes me pause.

“Are you sure of the date?” I ask instead.

“Oh yes.” She looks at me like I’m the crazy one. “It happened the year my daughter was born. And she’ll be twenty-three next month.”

I open my mouth to reply.

Then I close it again.

My skin prickles. Twenty-three years ago, the manager of the resort murdered his girlfriend and killed himself, leaving their baby behind.

Twenty-two years ago is when my mother was here. Working in the same resort.

And I’m going to be twenty-three next month too.