Page 44 of The Greek Villa

Seated at her kitchen table, drinking a cup of lemon tea and resisting a slice of baklava, I listen as she begins her story.

‘It was ten years ago at my sixtieth birthday party,’ she tells me, her expression hardening. ‘That was when I find out.’ She sips her tea slowly.

‘Find out?’

‘Yes. That she was sleeping with my husband.’

My cup freezes halfway to my mouth. There was no way I was expecting Phoebe to say that.

‘Oh my goodness,’ is all I manage to say.

‘It was a warm evening,’ she says, recounting the event. ‘The party was at the bar in the village. Many people were in and out,some sitting drinking and smoking at the outside tables. It was late and most people had left.’ She stops and takes a sip of her tea. ‘We were ready to leave, but I could not find my husband.’ She takes a deep breath. ‘And so I went outside and there they were.’ She shakes her head.

‘Go on,’ I say gently.

‘Wrapped in each other’s arms.’

‘Kissing?’ I ask, knowing that a hug can often be misinterpreted for something very different.

‘Yes, kissing.’ She pours more tea from a jug. ‘On my birthday too.’

‘Oh, Phoebe, I am so sorry to hear that. Did they have too much to drink?’

She fixes me with her dark eyes then. ‘Do you make the excuse for them?’

‘No, no, of course not. So you say they were having an affair? Maybe I was wondering if it was just something they would later regret.’

‘They have the affair, God forgive her.’ She crosses herself.

It rankles me that she never asked for forgiveness for both her friend and her husband.

‘Do you know long it had been going on?’ I ask gently, taking a nibble of a delicious home-baked biscuit.

‘No. My husband deny everything. But I know. The instinct of the woman.’

‘Did you ever ask her about it?’ I ask, wondering if they stopped speaking that very day.

‘No. Never since the day of the party when I see them kissing,’ she says, confirming my thoughts. ‘She try to talk to me, but I say no. I told my husband to stay away from her, and I believe that he did.’

‘So you stayed together?’

‘Yes, for six more years before he died.’

‘So you forgave him but not your friend?’ I can’t help asking.

‘I took the vows, yes. I forgive him. Besides, he told me she was always interested in him, she started it.’ She almost spits the words out.

‘Well, he would say that, wouldn’t he?’ The words tumble from my mouth.

‘What do you mean?’ She places her cup down and frowns at me.

‘I just wonder why the woman always gets the blame? They are usually the ones who are branded a homewrecker, even though the man is more than happy to go along with it. I mean, you can’t force someone to have an affair, can you?’

The memory of my cheating ex rises to the surface, including the vile messages I received from his fiancée, yet she forgave him and even went on to marry him, instead of showing the cheating rat the door.

I’m expecting Phoebe to ask me to leave, especially when I think about it. She was Phoebe’s friend after all, and she knew he was married. At least I had no idea about the bloke I met online who was supposedly single. Phoebe says nothing and it feels like an eternity before she finally speaks again.

‘I did not want him to leave.’ She sighs. ‘I could never bear the thought of him living with my friend, just across the road, torturing me every time I see them together. I prayed every night for him to stay with me. To you, a young, modern woman, that probably sounds sad. But it is how I felt. The marriage vow I take, until death us do part.’

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