The Accidental Life of Greg Millar by Aimee Alexander Page A

was just once. And a mistake. Still, I’d feel a whole lot better if they didn’t have that history, ancient or otherwise.
    We manage to finish breakfast. We even have sex and shower together. Greg’s more affectionate, gentle and loving than ever, and I want to be fine about this. But when he asks if I’m coming to the villa to work from his office with him, I find myself explaining that I’d make more progress here, that I like to work alone, that the villa’s too warm and that the children need a break from me. He looks disappointed, but says nothing, just that he’ll colle ct me at twelv e thirty for a swim and lunch. That would be lunch prepared by a woman he’s had sex with, eaten in the company of a girl wh o hates me.

    When Greg’s gone, I open up my computer, but concentration escapes me. I pick up the phone, needing to hear a familiar voice.
    ‘Bonjour!’ I say when Fint answers.
    ‘Bonjour, yoursel f ! How’s life in heaven?’
    ‘Oh, you know, just hoovered my cloud.’
    He laughs.
    ‘Any news?’
    ‘Yeah, I’m single again.’
    ‘Aw, Fint.’ There was always one issue in his relationship with Simon. ‘He wouldn’t “come out”, would he?’
    ‘Nope. And that’s not as simple as it sounds.’
    ‘I know. I’m sorry.’
    ‘I’m past all that angst, Lucy. He needs to deal with this himself; I’m not a shrink. So, how are you?’
    ‘Fine. Good. Great.’
    ‘What’s wrong?’
    ‘Nothing.’
    ‘Come on, this is Uncle Fint you’re talking to here.’
    I share the reality of life on my cloud, ending with the Hilary newsflash.
    ‘OK,’ he says. ‘I’m going to ask you one question. Do you trust Greg?’
    If it wasn’t Fint, I’d be indignant. ‘Of course. Absolutely.’
    ‘Well then, you’ve nothing to worry about, have you?’
    He always was a clear thinker. ‘No. I suppose not.’
    ‘What are you going to do about Rachel?’
    ‘I don’t know. Be patient. Try not to take it personally. Get out a bit more with Greg, just the two of us. I was hoping to try to get to know Hilary a bit better, but I don’t know. After what Greg’s sai d . . .’
    ‘Forget about that now. Greg’s marrying you, isn’t he? If he’d wanted Hilary, he’d have asked her a long time ago.’
    He has a point. ‘Thanks, Fint. I needed that. What are you going to do?’
    ‘Work.’
    I laugh. We’re so alike, Fint and I.

    Greg collects me for our swim. As we’re heading for the pool, his phone rings. It’s his agent. He goes inside to take the call, leaving me standing on the terrace, watching Toby, Hilary and Rachel play together in the pool. I take a deep breath and stick to the plan. I dive in and swim the full length, underwater, in complete and blissful silence. I pop up at the shallow end, suck in air and flick back my hair.
    ‘Deadly,’ says a voice beside me.
    In the time it has taken me to swim the length, Toby has extricated himself from the others and is bobbing in the water beside me. The whites of his eyes seem so clear against the brown; his lashes are clumped together by water. I smile.
    ‘You’re a great diver,’ he says.
    ‘Thanks, Toby. And you must be a great swimmer to get over here so fast.’
    ‘Yeah. I am. But I can’t dive.’ He has a dimple on one cheek.
    ‘It’s very easy. All you have to do is relax.’
    ‘I can relax.’ He lowers his goggles, then lies on his back, sticks his tummy in the air and tilts his head so far back that if it weren’t for the goggles, his eyes would be flooded.
    ‘That was very good relaxing, all right,’ I say.
    He stands up, just managing to keep his chin above water. ‘Can you learn me to dive?’
    ‘I don’t know. Maybe we should ask your dad if it’s OK wit h him.’
    ‘He wouldn’t mind.’
    I’m sure he wouldn’t. But Toby isn’t my child. I’m trying to decide what to do.
    ‘Want me to ask him?’
    ‘Not now, he’s on the phone.’
    But Toby’s already gone, slipping up out of the pool like a frisky