Chapter Thirty-Two
As Elias leaves for the airport first thing, he promises he will be back as soon as possible. I watch sadly as the car he has only just hired reverses from the driveway. I try to smile as I wave goodbye, but, in all honesty, I am on the verge of tears. We were supposed to spend the summer together and now, after the first day, he has rushed off on urgent business. If I hadn’t been to his home and seen how Danny struggles with the situation, I would definitely have trust issues at this point.
I close the door and walk around the villa, looking at the rooms as the morning light beams through the gaps in the shutters on the windows. I open them up and let the light cascade into the rooms, but still, despite the sunshine, I can’t help feeling gloomy. I tell myself that I will finish writing the book by the time Elias returns and that we will have the rest of the summer to enjoy ourselves. What is the rush? But without him, this place feels enormous as my flip-flops echo on the marble floors. The warmth of the villa when I walked in with Elias yesterday appears to have vanished, and I shiver as I turn the air conditioning down.
Eventually, I tell myself not to be so silly. Why on earth am I complaining that I have been left alone in such a beautiful villa? I must make the most of it. So, I throw on my kimono and sit down at the desk. I feel like Barbara Cartland as the creative flow pours out from me. Every now and then, as I type, I look up at the gorgeous views across the sea and smile. I might be here alone, but it is one of the most spectacular places to be by myself. Now that I am starting to get over the shock that Elias had to leave for a short while, I will be fine. In fact, I may even go for a wander around a little later if I can finish my work before it gets too dark.
I type away until the afternoon, when I realise I have been working for hours without a break. I need something to eat, but we only picked up a few bits in the supermarket on the way over here, as we were supposed to be dining out again tonight. I am about to see what I can find in the fridge when I spot an older lady walking up the driveway. It seems odd as I am not expecting anyone, and Elias certainly hadn’t said anything about a visitor. I notice she is carrying a basket, so perhaps she is from the rental company that Elias used and is dropping something off.
‘Bonsoir, madame,’ she says.
‘Bonsoir.’
‘Parlez-vous francais?’
‘No, English. Sorry,’ I say.
‘Ah, no problems. The realtor said one English couple bought the villa.’
‘Oh, no, we haven’t bought it! We’re just using it for a holiday.’
‘Ah, okay. As you like. I’m Renee, your neighbour.’
Neighbour? I decide not to tell her once again that I’m only on holiday.
‘I’m Lucy. So, you live near here, how lovely.’
Renee pulls at my arm and takes me outside as she points to her beautiful pink villa, which contrasts with our cream property. It has similar arched balconies and white balustrades, but lemon trees grow bountifully in the grounds.
‘Gosh, that’s beautiful.’
‘Merci, dear. It’s nice around here. I brought you this,’ she says, handing me the basket.
I look at the woven basket that reminds me of something I used in cookery lessons during secondary school. It’s lined with red and white check linen, and inside is a selection of beautiful pastries.
‘Oh, wow. That’s so kind of you. Won’t you come in? Please, let me make you a coffee.’
‘That would be nice, thank you.’
I lead Renee to the kitchen and pray I can get the posh coffee machine to work in front of her. I used the ground stuff this morning as I couldn’t get my head around how to work it once Elias left. I have never been very good with gadgets, so I ask if Renee would like tea or ground coffee instead. However, she points at the coffee machine and says she’d prefer one of those. I keep my back to her as I fluster around the machine, hoping she doesn’t notice, but it’s futile.
‘Lucy, can I assist you?’ she says.
‘Oh, umm, would you mind? Sorry.’
‘Oui, of course.’ I watch as Renee effortlessly pops a coffee pod in, presses a few buttons and the machine kicks into life.
‘Voilà. Would you like some too?’
‘Oh, yes, please.’ I feel terrible asking a guest to help, but she obviously knows her way around fancy machines better than I do.
We sit down at the kitchen island, which I notice is also marble-topped, like much of the villa, and I attempt to make small talk.
‘So, did the villa sell recently? Maybe we’re lucky to be the first ones to stay here.’
‘Yes, to the English couple. Your husband, no?’
‘No. I’m not married.’
‘Ah, pardon. You are partners then, my mistake.’
Renee doesn’t seem to be listening to a word I am saying. Do I tell her again that I am nothing to do with this villa? I wouldn’t want her to be confused when the real owner shows up, so I tell her once more.
‘I’m afraid I’m only here for a holiday. I don’t live here.’
‘Ah. Where’s your partner? Maybe he knows where the owner is.’
‘Hmm, indeed.’ I think of how Elias booked the villa so quickly and then begin to worry. I am getting those doubts once again. What if it is someone else’s villa, and Elias made an excuse to desert me, and the owner is suddenly going to turn up? After the misunderstanding in Monaco, I am not ready to take that chance.
I can hardly focus on the conversation as I wonder where he even got the keys from. I was tired after the journey and didn’t think about it before but now that I do, we didn’t meet anyone or go anywhere to pick up the keys. What if something fishy is going on?
‘I belong to a bridge club, you’re welcome to join me,’ says Renee.
‘Huh? Oh, yeah. That’s very kind, but I’ve never played bridge before. But, thank you. If I change my mind, I’ll let you know.’
As lovely and welcoming as Renee is, I can’t wait to be alone so that I can call Elias and ask who owns this place. He will probably have landed back in Manchester by now, and I pray I can get hold of him right away. I am not staying here a minute longer with the ambiguity of whose villa it is. How can this happen to me twice in the same country? Maybe it is because both times I have let others make the holiday plans. Perhaps it was better when I was in control after all.
‘So, it was very nice to meet you. I must go now for a yoga class. Do you like yoga?’ says Renee finally.
‘No, I’m not that bendy really. I’m a bit stiff.’
‘Then you must join yoga. It’ll help with this stiffness.’
‘I’m afraid I’m more of a Zumba person. I couldn’t possibly relax and do something that slow. I’d rather jump about. But thanks for the offer, anyway.’
I get up and lead Renee towards the door. I promise I will make up for being curt to her another time, but, right now, I have to speak to Elias. Every car that drives past and every noise I hear outside makes me jump as I consider that I could get thrown out of here at any moment. This time, if they think I’m trespassing, they may even call the police. I could get myself a record for breaking and entering posh homes at this rate.
As soon as I close the door on Renee, I rush over to my phone. The line makes a funny bleep, and then I hear the recording asking me to leave a message.
I throw down the phone in frustration. I need to get hold of Elias right away. I look out of the window as if I am a fugitive and become quite paranoid. I am not going to be able to relax until I speak to Elias.
I walk back and forth in the kitchen so many times that I fear I’ll wear out the onyx marble. I tell myself to give Elias the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps this place belongs to a friend of his. That must be what it is. Rich people always have rich friends; look at Soraya. I bet Elias does, too, even though he insists he prefers hanging around with working-class folk.
By the time my phone rings and I see Elias’s name come up on the screen, I am super relieved.
‘Hi, how was your flight?’ I ask.
‘All fine. Sorry, once again. I should only be a couple of days.’
Since I am fighting with my intuition that something isn’t quite right, I decide not to tell Elias about the next-door neighbour and what she said, as I don’t want to put words in his mouth.
‘It’s okay. Don’t worry. Like you say, you’ll be back soon. I just wanted to ask something, though.’
‘Yeah, what’s up?’
‘Well, I was curious. I was wondering whose house this is. I mean, I’m just here alone, and if anyone turned up, I wouldn’t know what to say. Especially after what happened with Gianni’s apartment and all that. Or, if there’s a problem with, say, the electrics, who would I contact? So, yeah, I just wondered whose place it was.’
‘The villa?’
‘Yes, the villa.’
‘It’s just a rental. I don’t know the owner. Someone French, I guess.’
‘Well, how did you get the keys?’
‘The keys?’
‘Yes! The keys. We never met anyone to give them to us.’
Elias is quiet for a moment, and then, as if it has taken him time to think of an answer, he finally replies.
‘Oh, they posted the keys to me.’
‘They?’
‘Yeah, the agent.’
‘Okay, and who is the agent?’
‘Um, I don’t remember the exact name now, Lucy. I’ll get back to you. I’m going to have to go. Danny’s picking me up from the airport.’
‘Yes, of course. Could you message me the name of the agent later, so I know who to call if there is an emergency.’
‘There shouldn’t be any emergencies.’
‘No, I know, but just in case. Since I’m here all alone.’
‘Sure. I’ll speak to you a bit later. Okay.’
Before I can say goodbye, Elias has put the phone down, and I stand looking around the villa in disbelief that this has happened to me. I decide if Elias won’t tell me then I will hunt for clues. I look at the kitchen appliances again. I remember that old TV show, Through the Keyhole , and in the voice of Loyd Grossman, the presenter, I start talking to myself as I walk around, trying to turn this potential nightmare into a game.
‘This house belongs to a person who likes their gadgets.’
I look at the bright blue velvet chaise longue again. Someone likes blue.
‘This house belongs to a person who likes comfort as well as luxury.’
Then I go outside by the pool. Apart from a lion fountain that spouts water into the pool, it doesn’t give much away.
I go back inside and rummage through the kitchen drawers. Surely there must be some kind of post, a letter for someone in one of them. All I find is a canteen of designer cutlery and an electric tin opener. However, in another drawer, I find a few scrunched-up flyers for local bars and supermarkets. Why didn’t the cleaners throw them out? I’m guessing whoever owns this house can be a bit untidy at times. I add that to my mental list of qualities for the owner.
Moving to the living room, I look at the white sofa, white rugs and white vases.
‘This is a person who doesn’t have young children.’
None of this stuff would last a day.
I gather all the visual evidence and think that this is someone who is either single or with grown-up kids. This points me in the only direction I can think of. And what I have suspected since I met Renee.
‘Elias,’ I say out loud.
Has he lied to me about this being a rental property? Has he bought this as a home, and he doesn’t want me to know?
I rumble about in a bedside drawer, knowing that I shouldn’t snoop, but also desperate for confirmation. There I find a utility bill with Elias’s name clearly printed. It’s the last bit of evidence I need; I am utterly devastated that Elias has lied to me once again. But why? The only answer I can think of is that he still doesn’t trust me. Does he truly think that I am after his money, just as Danny does? I slump down on the kitchen bar stool as I realise that we don’t have much of a future if we have continuous trust issues between us.