Read Online Dion: His Life and Mine by Sarah Cate Anstey - Free Book Online
Authors: Sarah Cate Anstey
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and beautiful assistance?”
“Yes, the daughter of King Minos gave me some twine so that I could unravel it and use it to guide my way back, through the tunnels.”
“And is the daughter of King Minos with you now?”
“Yes, the daughter of King Minos is with me now,” said Theo carefully.
“So you butchered the beast and made away with the girl - a fitting prize for a hero and a high standard for every young man to live up to! Join me next week when my guests include the rock-grunge god Dion, lead singer of Libertia, who causes a stir wherever he goes. It should be an entertaining evening!” I’d stopped listening. I was thinking about the fact that Theo hadn’t mentioned my name.
Five days on Naxos suited us. At first, Theo and I lived the honeymoon dream, walking hand in hand along the sand, waves lapping at our feet; that was when Theo wasn’t being mobbed by his adoring fans. Still, it gave me good training as the wife of a press-hounded, not to mention savaged, husband. At least the paparazzi on Naxos were a) complimentary and b) not interested in me. Posing for a photograph, flashing a dazzling smile as I stood, dutifully, next to Theo was all I was required to do. Surely such a happy couple would have a happy ending? Tell that to my mother!
We’d picnic at the foot of Mount Za, lying on our backs, looking up at the clear blue sky. Our evenings were spent talking, over candlelit dinners in beachside estiatorias, trying the local specialities, rich icaloyeros or sumptuous icefalopodia . We’d watch the sun set, looking forward to it rising again so we could spend another glorious day together. Yes, I was loved-up. Looking back now, it was sickening. What I was too naïve to realise was that I was having the honeymoon before the wedding, never a good plan. But I was young, emotional and thought I had everything, or was going to get everything, I’d ever wanted.
Theo told me that he intended to leave Naxos, the day after he gave his exclusive. There had been a storm on Naxos, before we arrived, so the phone lines were down, severing all contact with the mainland. The programme wouldn’t air for a week, and on the mainland, not until the following one. So, due to the communication problems, the news of his survival wouldn’t have reached Athens and every second must have been agony for his father. So, after the interview I went to get the white sails from the vendor (who didn’t bother to hide his disappointment that Theo hadn’t collected them personally, but brightened when I gave him Theo’s autograph. I had perfected it by then).
That night I gave the sails to Theo. He had been sent a crate of Eastern drink by an admirer. The symbols on the box reminded me of something, but I couldn’t think what. It wasn’t to my taste, but Theo drank the whole lot. We slept next to each other for the last time, on the beach, under the stars with the sails covering us. The next day I woke up shivering in the early morning chill. The sails were gone and so was Theo.
Although he took the white sails with him, Theo’s hasty abandonment of me on Naxos meant that I couldn’t remind him to change them, and he sailed home with the customary black ones. Fitting his reliable reputation, Aegeus was true to his word and was watching from the cliff top, where he had promised Theo he would be waiting. Looking up at the cliff, Theo saw his father and waved to him excitedly. It was no use. Aegeus’s eyes were filled with the black sails and, believing the ship was carrying the remains of his beloved son, old Aegeus jumped into the sea in grief. Somehow this tragedy was blamed on me, a woman scorned and all that. The truth, for what it’s worth, was that I felt desperately sorry, but what could I have done? I had acquired the sails and Theo had taken them. I didn’t expect Theo to leave me. Instead, I woke on Naxos with no Theo, no ship, no food; the only clothes I had were the ones I’d slept in. The remnants of a
“Yes, the daughter of King Minos gave me some twine so that I could unravel it and use it to guide my way back, through the tunnels.”
“And is the daughter of King Minos with you now?”
“Yes, the daughter of King Minos is with me now,” said Theo carefully.
“So you butchered the beast and made away with the girl - a fitting prize for a hero and a high standard for every young man to live up to! Join me next week when my guests include the rock-grunge god Dion, lead singer of Libertia, who causes a stir wherever he goes. It should be an entertaining evening!” I’d stopped listening. I was thinking about the fact that Theo hadn’t mentioned my name.
Five days on Naxos suited us. At first, Theo and I lived the honeymoon dream, walking hand in hand along the sand, waves lapping at our feet; that was when Theo wasn’t being mobbed by his adoring fans. Still, it gave me good training as the wife of a press-hounded, not to mention savaged, husband. At least the paparazzi on Naxos were a) complimentary and b) not interested in me. Posing for a photograph, flashing a dazzling smile as I stood, dutifully, next to Theo was all I was required to do. Surely such a happy couple would have a happy ending? Tell that to my mother!
We’d picnic at the foot of Mount Za, lying on our backs, looking up at the clear blue sky. Our evenings were spent talking, over candlelit dinners in beachside estiatorias, trying the local specialities, rich icaloyeros or sumptuous icefalopodia . We’d watch the sun set, looking forward to it rising again so we could spend another glorious day together. Yes, I was loved-up. Looking back now, it was sickening. What I was too naïve to realise was that I was having the honeymoon before the wedding, never a good plan. But I was young, emotional and thought I had everything, or was going to get everything, I’d ever wanted.
Theo told me that he intended to leave Naxos, the day after he gave his exclusive. There had been a storm on Naxos, before we arrived, so the phone lines were down, severing all contact with the mainland. The programme wouldn’t air for a week, and on the mainland, not until the following one. So, due to the communication problems, the news of his survival wouldn’t have reached Athens and every second must have been agony for his father. So, after the interview I went to get the white sails from the vendor (who didn’t bother to hide his disappointment that Theo hadn’t collected them personally, but brightened when I gave him Theo’s autograph. I had perfected it by then).
That night I gave the sails to Theo. He had been sent a crate of Eastern drink by an admirer. The symbols on the box reminded me of something, but I couldn’t think what. It wasn’t to my taste, but Theo drank the whole lot. We slept next to each other for the last time, on the beach, under the stars with the sails covering us. The next day I woke up shivering in the early morning chill. The sails were gone and so was Theo.
Although he took the white sails with him, Theo’s hasty abandonment of me on Naxos meant that I couldn’t remind him to change them, and he sailed home with the customary black ones. Fitting his reliable reputation, Aegeus was true to his word and was watching from the cliff top, where he had promised Theo he would be waiting. Looking up at the cliff, Theo saw his father and waved to him excitedly. It was no use. Aegeus’s eyes were filled with the black sails and, believing the ship was carrying the remains of his beloved son, old Aegeus jumped into the sea in grief. Somehow this tragedy was blamed on me, a woman scorned and all that. The truth, for what it’s worth, was that I felt desperately sorry, but what could I have done? I had acquired the sails and Theo had taken them. I didn’t expect Theo to leave me. Instead, I woke on Naxos with no Theo, no ship, no food; the only clothes I had were the ones I’d slept in. The remnants of a
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