Page 64 of Deep Blue Lies

SIXTY-THREE

It takes Sophia less than five minutes to find her.

There are three florists on the high street in Clapham, and when I saw them I even remembered the name of hers, because she must have told me once.

But anyway, it has a website, and it helpfully lists “our people” with a photo and a picture of all the staff. Here’s what it says about Imogen:

Imogen Grant – Senior Florist

In the picture she looks like the smile is an effort, you can see the camera-shyness in her eyes.

“I think I see the benzo-haze,” Sophia says, as she clicks around the site. She stops at the Contact Us page, which also has the opening hours.

“What’s the time difference between Greece and England? ”

It takes me a few moments to remember. “Two hours, I think. Why?”

“It says it closes at seven. It’s only just past nine now here, so she might still be there. If she’s working today. You could call and find out?”

Both of our eyes go towards my phone, resting on the cushion beside us.

I see Imogen in my mind, as if she were already coming to answer my call.

She has a way of moving that’s more drifting than walking, her legs hidden under long flowing dresses.

I let the picture in my mind run on, seeing her reaction when I tell her it’s me.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

I feel my heart rate kicking up. It’s hard to explain.

“If you don’t do it now, are you actually gonna do it?”

I look at her, not sure where she’s going with that.

“If you don’t do it right away, you’ll lose your nerve,” she explains. “Or you’ll do it eventually, but it’ll take you ages, and you’ll beat yourself up for not doing it.” She picks up my phone and holds it out to me. “So you might as well just try now.”

I try to go back to the image in my mind, but now Imogen’s just floating there, surrounded by millions of flowers.

“What am I going to say?”

“What you just told me. Tell her the truth. You’re on Alythos, you’re trying to find out how you came to be born here because nothing makes any sense.

You found your mum’s diary and she doesn’t seem to be your mum.

” Sophia shrugs again, matter of fact. “Ask her what she knows? What’s the worst that can happen? ”

I almost laugh. The way Sophia puts it sounds so simple. And I realise it is simple. I’m only asking a question. And she’s right too, about the other thing. If I don’t do this now, I probably will lose my nerve.

“She’s probably not there anyway,” Sophia’s realism interjects. “But you might as well try.” She holds the phone closer to me.

I’m in a sort of dream state as I take the phone and tap in the number from the laptop screen, like I’m doing this and not doing it at the same time. But I’m jerked back to reality when a woman’s voice answers:

“Lavender and Vine, can I help you?”

“Oh! Um…” There’s nothing to do now but try. “I’m looking for…I was wondering if…Imogen was there? Imogen Grant? I’m a friend of hers.”

The voice changes, instantly less professional and more casual.

“Sure she’s…actually she’s just walking out the door. Hold on and I’ll see if I can catch her.”

I hear noises in the background, a few bangs, voices I can’t make out. Then the same woman is back.

“Yep, she’s still here, just on her way.” Then the line goes quiet again. Then there’s another voice.

“Hello?”

I know it. “Imogen?”

“Yes? Who is this?”

“It’s Ava.” I pause. “Karen’s daughter.”

There’s a silence. Then, just as I start to speak again to give my surname she says my name.

“Ava.”

“Yeah. Um, I don’t know if you remember me…”

“Of course I remember.”

I stop, and this time the pause stretches so long it’s her that speaks next.

“What do you want?”

Oh God. I’m making a mess of this. It’s easier, maybe, to get straight to the point.

“Yeah, so I know this is going to sound weird, but I wanted to ask you some questions, about me.” There’s another silence, but this time I can hear her breathing.

“What kind of questions?”

“Like, about Greece. Alythos. And maybe about Mum too.” Calling Karen that still comes so easily to my mind, but my doubts now make it catch somehow every single time. I realise I’ve fallen silent again, leaving her waiting.

“I’m here now, in Greece. I left med school, I was… I don’t know if you even know I was there…”

“In Sunderland. Yes, I knew.”

“Oh. OK. Well, I…actually I didn’t leave, they kicked me out. Because my grades were shocking, and…I don’t think I was cut out to be a doctor.” Shit, I’m rambling. I catch Sophia’s eye and understand her look. I need to get to the point.

“What I mean is. I came to Alythos. I’m here now.”

I stop, but there’s just more silence.

“Imogen? Are you still there?”

“Yes. I’m listening. Do you mean Alythos in Greece?”

I didn’t know there was another one.

“Yeah.”

“Oh.” A pause, then: “Why are you there?”

“That’s what I wanted to speak with you about.

I came to…I don’t know exactly why I came.

But I wanted to find out more about how I came to be born here.

Mum’s never spoken to me about it.” I stop.

“I thought maybe I’d be able to find out who my dad was.

” I shake my head at how ridiculous this sounds.

“You’re really on Alythos?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re there now?”

“Yes,” I tell her again.

“Oh.” I have the phone close enough to Sophia that she can hear what’s being said, and she mouths to me now.

Tell her about the diary.

I nod when I understand her, and then there’s still silence on the line, so I do what she says.

“I found my mum’s diary. From when she was working here.

It says she was sharing a room with you.

And there’s this really weird thing, it shows that she wasn’t pregnant, with me, when she was supposed to be.

So I don’t understand it, and I wondered if you knew something, like maybe she was pregnant later, after the murders and the resort closed down? ”

“The murders?” Imogen cuts in suddenly.

“Yeah, the manager of the Aegean Dream Resort. He killed his girlfriend?” I’m confused. She must know this.

She’s silent again, and I give her space. Or maybe, I just don’t know what more to say. After a very long time she speaks again.

“And you’re on Alythos? In Greece?”

“Yes.”

Another pause. A little shorter this time, but her voice is strange now, I hear an edge to it.

“Is Karen with you?”

“No.”

“Does she know you’re there?”

“Yes. Of course, she’s my…” I don’t finish the sentence.

“Are you going to be there for long?”

I don’t know how to answer this. I think about telling her I have a job and I planned to stay for the summer, but that’s not quite it.

“I was going to stay until I found out the truth,” I say in the end, and it sounds corny. It’s made worse because she doesn’t reply at once, so my words just hang there, in the space between us.

“The truth,” she repeats at last. And then she’s silent again.

“Yeah, so I wondered if it was OK to ask you about it?” I mean, I already have, but she just keeps repeating the questions back to me. But then she surprises me. Big time.

“I can come out there. I can get a flight from Heathrow. Will you let me? Will you wait for me there?”

The idea takes me so much by surprise that I’m unable to answer.

“Will you wait for me?” she asks again. “I’ll look at flights right away, or as soon as I get home.

I’ll buy the first one I find. I can take time off here, that won’t be a problem.

” I hear her calling out to someone in the room with her.

I don’t catch the words exactly but she’s confirming she’s due holiday time. Then she’s back, speaking to me.

“I’ll find a hotel. In Skalio – is that where you are? Are you in Skalio, it’s so pretty there, is it still that pretty?”

“Um, yeah. I’m in Skalio. And yeah, it’s still…” I look around at Sophia and Maria’s little garden, the darkness drawing in close around it. They have a trail of pretty white lanterns that hug the line of the wall, Sophia switched them on when we came out here.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Stay there. Promise me you’ll stay there. I don’t know how long it will take me. There might even be a flight tomorrow. Give me your number, so I can reach you. I’ll tell you what flight I’m on. We can meet. And I’ll tell you.”

“Um, OK.” I feel how wide my eyes are as I glance at Sophia, who’s covering her mouth with her hand.

“Is this your number, on the screen?” Imogen reads my phone number back to me.

“Yeah.”

“I have it. I’ve written it down. Now wait there. And I’ll tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

There’s a pause.

“You said you wanted the truth. It’s awful, but I have it. And you deserve to have it too. You always did. But it can’t be on the phone. I have to look into your eyes. I have to be there with you. For you. Wait for me there and I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you everything.”

“Um. OK.”

“You’ll wait for me?”

“Yeah. I guess….”

“Good. Great. That’s… I…” She doesn’t finish either sentence.

And then, just before she hangs up she goes on, her voice almost too soft to hear. “Oh, Ava. You have no idea. No idea at all.”

The line goes dead.

I lower the phone slowly.

“Oh my God,” Sophia says beside me.