Chapter Seven #2
Winnie relayed the unusual pay arrangements, and a look of pure admiration flickered through Stella’s green eyes.
‘Well, at that price, I vote she stays,’ she said. ‘We could use the help when we get going. Besides, I don’t know the Greek for “You’re fired.”’
‘You’re not Alan Sugar,’ Winnie said.
Hero watched the quick conversation with her dark, interested eyes, nodding along oblivious, then held up four fingers again just to make sure the arrangement was clear.
‘Seems like the gin is the most important part of the deal,’ Frankie said.
Winnie nodded, clicking the pen. ‘The whole island is crazy for the stuff. We need to think about making our first batch, because if we run out they’re going to lynch us.’
The others nodded. ‘I’ll take Hero through to the kitchen and show her the new cleaning cupboard, shall I?
’ Frankie said, smiling at their newest member of staff and nodding for her to follow.
Hero looked over her shoulder to make sure Frankie wasn’t speaking to anyone else, and then disappeared off in Frankie’s wake.
Having straightened the ledger and moved the pen from one side to the other for the millionth time, Winnie smoothed her hands down her red linen dress.
They’d all dressed differently this morning: Winnie in the flippy dress she’d bought for her cousin’s wedding the previous summer, Stella all in black from her off-the-shoulder Bardot top to her cropped jeans, Frankie in her flowing safari dress.
Cut-off shorts and vest tops just didn’t say professional, and they all wanted their inaugural guest to think he’d checked into the best damn B Stella had bent down on one side of the desk to plug the fan in, and Winnie had her backside in the air towards the said fan on the other side when it burst violently into life, blowing her skirt clean over her head.
‘You really should get some cream on that sunburn.’
Balls. Jesse.
Winnie shot to her feet, fighting with her tangled dress.
‘Jesse,’ she said, flustered and aware that her face was probably the same colour as her dress.
‘Do you flash your knickers at everyone or should I feel honoured?’
‘Ha ha,’ she said, sarcastic. ‘What can we do for you?’
He stepped outside the door. ‘I thought you might like this.’
Winnie looked at Stella, and they both trailed out onto the terrace to see what it was.
‘Oh my God!’ Stella said. ‘It’s gorgeous.’
Winnie looked at the hand-carved wooden sign Jesse had propped against the wall. ‘I don’t really work with wood, but I’ve had that piece lying around for a while looking for a home.’
On a natural slice of tree trunk he’d carved ‘Villa Valentina’ in perfect script, and beneath in smaller lettering he’d inscribed each of their names as proprietors.
‘Thank you,’ Stella said, her eyes sliding speculatively from Winnie to Jesse.
‘I’ll just go and hunt that pen down, Win.
’ She slipped past them, her long hair swinging in the sunshine, leaving Winnie still smoothing down her dress and standing on one high-heeled foot and then the other.
She’d been attempting to channel Corinna with her leather sandal choice that morning, but was regretting it now that she was stood here with Jesse in washed-out jeans and T-shirt.
He looked like a beach bum and she looked like a wedding guest; a wedding guest who’d just shown him her knickers.
‘I’d have had you down as a plain white girl. Hot pink lace was a shock.’
Winnie closed her eyes momentarily. The tiny pink knickers were the only ones that didn’t give her VPL with the dress. She took the only available option and ignored his comment, clearing her throat and gesturing at the sign. ‘It’s very nice. You didn’t have to.’
‘I know that. Call it a welcome gift.’
She nodded, running her hand quickly over her hair to make sure the plait was still wrapped securely around her head.
‘Can I have my donkey back soon?’ she asked. ‘Only I think you might need to bring him. He doesn’t seem very keen on me.’
Jesse curled his lip. ‘What do you think he is, a holiday romance? You need to put the hours in with The Fonz.’
‘I’m starting to think he’s moody.’
Jesse laughed softly. ‘You know what he likes?’
Winnie shook her head.
‘Picnics.’
‘Picnics,’ she said.
‘You’re doing that repetition thing again. Come for a picnic with the donkey.’
‘Is that an invitation?’
Jesse inclined his head. ‘I’m just the messenger. Come at seven.’ He paused and tipped his head to the side. ‘He likes red, too, so you should probably keep that dress on.’
‘Should I bring him anything?’
‘A carrot?’ Jesse shrugged. ‘He likes island gin too.’
‘Does he now,’ Winnie said. ‘Like every other man, woman and beast on Skelidos then.’
‘We just know what’s good for us.’
Winnie studied the cerise bougainvillea growing at the side of the terrace, unsure if she knew what was good for her.
‘Sundown,’ she said, with the smallest of hesitant nods.
Jesse shoved his hands in his pockets. ‘I’ll let him know.’ As he sauntered away, he turned back. ‘I wasn’t kidding about that sun cream.’
Winnie shot him in the back with an imaginary gun and then headed inside the villa in search of the after sun.