Dion: His Life and Mine by Sarah Cate Anstey

of us and what we could be together.
     
    The next morning, I came to, on the beach, in the same spot where Theo had left me. I couldn’t remember how I had got there and my head, if it could still be called mine, ached. I found the flask I’d prepared the day before, in case of this kind of emergency, and surveyed the scene. The bodies of my fellow partygoers were strewn across the beach. In a couple of hours they would be parting with their money to down my infusion. A solitary figure was picking his way amongst them; I recognised the frayed jeans and the shaggy hair.
    “Your poison, lady,” he said, pointing at my flask.
    “It’s not,” I said, as he downed the rest.
    “I know, your poison is dark, disloyal, devilishly-handsome Athenians,” he said, as he flopped beside me and fell asleep. My reputation had preceded me, but I realized, before I also succumbed to the herb’s power, that my faith had been restored.

Chapter Six   That Wedding Photograph
     
    My wedding photographs couldn’t have been more different from those of my parents. For a start we only had three taken, on an old disposable camera, by Libertia’s drummer, Cal. Whilst my parents had the full package - photos of the entire wedding party, guests, flowers, cake, the works - we had a pre-wedding shot of Nyx (my only bridesmaid) and me. Nyx was wearing the latest Libertia touring t-shirt with the dates and venues for the next four months. The second was of Dion and Cal, in his role of best man. Cal took it himself, his free arm wrapped around Dion in order to get them both in the shot. Dion is doing the thumbs-up sign with both hands, while Cal plants a slobbery kiss on his cheek. The third shot, the one that made it around the world and back again, is of Dion and me. It was taken after we’d said our vows and were officially man and wife. Cal said we should have one for the papers; ‘to keep the paps off your backs.’ You must have come across at least one of the countless articles, written by fifth-rate journalists in order to earn a buck off the back of our lives. Seventy per cent of it is a pack of lies, twenty per cent downright libellous, ten per cent almost accurate, and, thanks to Cal, almost none of it is true.
    On the morning after my first Libertia gig, I awoke, revived from the effects of the infusion and found, to my surprise, Dion still beside me. After Theo, this seemed a huge sign of commitment.
    “Breakfast?” he said, grinning. He took me to his favourite taverna where the owners welcomed him as if he had been their own son. It was clear how much the people of Naxos loved Dion and that this love was reciprocated. 
    “So, what’s your story?” Dion asked.
    “Haven’t you heard? I’m the undutiful, ungrateful daughter who betrayed her family. I helped a handsome guest repay my father’s hospitality. Together we killed my father’s monster and escaped, unpunished. Then, after the said young man had his wicked way with me, I was left here, too ashamed to go home.”
    “I’ve heard that story, now I want yours,” Dion replied and added cheekily, “especially the bit about the young stranger having his wicked way with you!” I threw a piece of toast at him and told him - My Story.
    “And I thought I had the monopoly on dysfunctional families,” Dion said when I’d finished.
    #
    Of course you all know about the beautiful daughters of Kadmus, founder and King of Thebes and his Queen, the exquisite Harmonia. I make no pretence of the fact that it is their story and not mine that you are most interested in. Who could blame you? I was just as intrigued by Dion’s background as the gossip columnists, cheap celebrity biography shows and the people who watched them. For those who have been living under a rock for the past one hundred years, here’s a quick (biased) recap.
     
    For a long time after they were married, my father had teased my mother with his feigned regret for not having had Semele, the youngest of the