One Bed

Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

M en are pigs. All of them.

Bea stomped her way into the cottage and slammed the door behind her. She kicked off her shoes, sending one flip flop flying across the room. It landed on the table against the far wall, nearly knocking a blue-green bohemian vase to the floor.

She touched her lips, still able to taste Gib, still able to feel his hand on her breast. Everything stopped after he touched her boob…

And that wasn’t a surprise. How many arguments did she and Gerry have about her breasts? Or lack thereof. The tool often complained she had ‘boy boobs’ and demanded she get plastic surgery. Even if she’d wanted one, a breast enhancement was never an option when they could barely afford to pay rent and keep themselves fed.

Gib hadn’t expressed his disappointment, he was too much of a gentleman to be that crass, but how could he not be dissatisfied?

Flopping into the chair, she couldn’t get Gerry’s words out of her head – fucking you is like doing it with an ironing board . Bea wrapped her arms around her chest and wished that men weren’t so stupid. If they didn’t like her boobs, they could skirt them and head south. The rest of her was perfectly, as far as she knew, normal.

But what really killed her was her suspicion that Gib was heading into Oia to look for some action. He’d been steel-pipe hard when she sat on his lap and when she left him, his enormous erection still tented his pants.

A guy like him –good looking and successful –could walk into the nearest pub, snap his fingers and have a queue of women begging to go home with him. Or jump onto Tinder and find a hook-up almost instantaneously. Why, just because she’d backed away, should he do without?

They weren’t lovers, they weren’t even friends –she’d only met him, as adults, on Sunday! –but the idea of him having sex with someone else and then coming back to share a bed with her, even if it was platonic and temporary, made bile creep up her throat. Bea closed her eyes and was transported back to when Gerry used to roll in drunk or stoned, smelling of pot, beer and cheap perfume, with another woman’s lipstick on the side of his mouth, or on his neck.

Oblivious to her shouting or screaming, he’d crawl into their bed and pass out, leaving her mentally and psychologically battered. To her shame, it happened way too many times before she finally kicked his entitled, scrawny arse out of her flat.

Gerry had cheated on her, taken her for granted, and treated her like his own personal cash back machine, but she still hadn’t been prepared for the level of hurt he, and her mum, inflicted on her in the weeks and months after their breakup.

But this wasn’t about Gerry. She was over him, and he wasn’t worth any more of her energy. She and Gib weren’t lovers, they were barely friends, and they’d only shared a kiss. A mind-blowing kiss, but still just a kiss.

But sharing a bed with him was not happening. She’d rather sleep on the floor. Or that ugly, broken divan.

After washing off her makeup and brushing her teeth, she changed into sleeping shorts and a T-shirt and ignored the siren call of the super comfortable bed. She cursed quietly and stomped back into the lounge of the cottage, carrying a blanket and a pillow she’d swiped off the bed.

She eyed the dip in the divan, and when she sat down on the edge, it only creaked a little. She lay down, trying not to roll into the hole. She wiggled her butt and folded her arms across her chest. If she lay on her back and stayed still, she might be able to fall asleep.

She’d make do tonight and make another plan in the morning. Actually, Gib could make another plan. He could move out. And she could have the cottage to herself.

From tomorrow on, she’d have as little to do with him as possible. Hopefully, he’d soon be bored with the slow pace of the out-of-season island, and he’d leave to go back to wherever he lived.

And she would never think about him again.

* * *

The next morning, Gib walked into the cottage’s small kitchen, slightly damp and a lot annoyed. And looking so damn sexy her heart hurt.

His sleeveless vest revealed impressive biceps, and the damp circles under his arms and around his neck told her he’d run hard and for a long time. The scruff on his jaw was darker this morning, his lips thinner.

And his eyes were the silver of a light sabre dialled to destroy.

Bea wished she hadn’t stumbled from the couch to the coffee machine. She was still dressed in her old T-shirt, her sleeping shorts had a torn hem and she knew her bedhead was at its best. A glance in the reflective surface of the kettle told her she also had dark rings around her eyes and a crease from her pillow embedded in her cheek.

To say that she hadn’t slept well was an understatement of epic proportions. Sleeping on the divan was the Santorini equivalent of sleeping on the pebbles at Kamari Beach. She’d tumbled, more than once, into the hole and found herself in an uncomfortable V shape.

She’d still been awake when Gib walked back into the cottage, after midnight, but she’d kept her eyes shut and her breathing light. She felt his heat as he loomed over her, and heard his low, frustrated ‘for fuck’s sake, seriously?’ remark. Then he’d walked into the bedroom and slammed the door closed, suggesting he knew she was awake.

It took her at least an hour to fall asleep after that. Only to be woken by the bed-from-hell at least three times after that. Her back hurt, her bum hurt, and her neck was a breath away from going into a spasm. She was so tired she couldn’t even be arsed to feel embarrassed about looking like death warmed up.

Besides, he’d probs got lucky the night before, and burned off all his excess testosterone. He wouldn’t find her sexy now.

‘Morning.’

Bea lifted her coffee cup in his direction and sat down at the kitchen table, resisting the urge to lay her head on her arms and go back to sleep. Through the open doors leading onto the deck, she watched a fishing boat heading out to sea. She wished she could spend the day snoozing on the beach, but she had things to do.

Bea cradled her coffee cup in her hand, ignoring Gib as he stomped to the bedroom, chugging water from the bottle he’d snagged out of the fridge. She presumed he’d gone to shower, but he returned a few minutes later in a fresh T-shirt, barefoot and rubbing his wet head with a hand towel.

Sliding his leg over the bench on the opposite side of the table, he spun his water bottle on its rim. ‘Right. What’s up with you?’

A straightforward question, and one she didn’t expect. ‘I’m fine,’ she spluttered.

Gib frowned at her standard, cop out response. ‘Bull shit .’ He drank more water, replaced the cap and pointed the bottle at her. ‘Last night we kissed. You seemed hesitant to take it further, so we stepped back. I said I was going for a walk, maybe to have a drink in a bar, and that pissed you off.’

Bea wanted to look away but couldn’t. It was a pretty accurate summation of the events.

‘I thought I’d give you some space to shower, to get into bed, to avoid feeling awkward after we shared the hottest kiss this side of the sun. But when I came back you were perched on the side of that fucking stupid couch, pretending to be asleep.’

Crap. She had to work on her acting skills. Bea nibbled on the inside of her cheek and thought about a way to get out of this uncomfortable and frankly miserable conversation. ‘I’ll go into Fira today and buy a mattress, or I’ll sleep on a couch in the house.’

Gib reached across the table and held her wrist in a firm grip. ‘Stop it, Bea! Just tell me what happened to change your mind about trusting me.’

‘I never said I trusted you!’

‘You would never have suggested us sharing a bed if you didn’t,’ Gib shot back. OK, damn him, that was true. ‘Tell me the truth, Bea.’

She looked down at his fingers gripping her wrist, long and broad, with neatly clipped nails. His grip was light, as if he was conscious of his strength, and of his size. What should she do? Tell him the truth – that she’d freaked out at the idea of sharing the bed with someone who’d just got lucky? – or brush off his concerns and allow him to walk away?

‘Talk to me, Bea. Help me understand.’

Beas lifted a shoulder to her ear. She was too tired to argue. ‘We kissed, and, as you said, I backed away. I felt a bit overwhelmed and shocked at my response.’ Her embarrassment level was already high, so what would a little extra truth matter? ‘I haven’t dated for a long time, many years rather than many months, and I’m very out of practice.’

He nodded. ‘OK. For the record, you wanting to go slow wasn’t an issue for me.’

She winced and twisted her lips. ‘But you still went into Oia.’

He lifted his hands, obviously confused. ‘Yeah. I went to the bar you recommended for a beer. Walked around the town for a while. Came back.’

Was it possible that he hadn’t got any action? ‘You didn’t meet anyone?’ she asked, her voice higher than normal.

‘I spoke to two older gents from Dublin, and I bought them a beer.’

He was going to make her say it, to spell out her fears. ‘You left here frustrated… Shit! ’ She placed her hands on her face, peering at him through her fingers.

Understanding jumped into his eyes. ‘Are you asking me if I met another woman, if I picked someone up for sex?’

She stared at his water bottle like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. ‘Like I said, you were … frustrated when you left. I thought you’d want to finish what we started. Even if we hadn’t kissed, I still wouldn’t want to sleep next to you after you’d had sex with someone else.’

He was quiet for so long that Bea had to look at him, and when she did, she saw the anger in his eyes, his thin lips and the muscle ticking in his jaw. Oh, God, he was properly pissed. But what else was she supposed to think? She’d lived with a man who routinely moved from her bed to someone else’s, who treated sex the same way people treated takeaway coffee. She’d been out of the dating game for a while and, for all she knew, that was acceptable hook-up behaviour these days. The dating world moved fast.

‘I’m going to say this just once… I did not sleep with anyone else last night.’

OK, good. Phew .

‘I would never disrespect someone like that, sharing a bed with one woman – even if it’s only because of a stupid arrangement cooked up by your godmother –and sleeping with another. I am not a disrespectful prick.’

She believed him and the layer of ice surrounding her heart melted. Maybe Gerry was the exception to the rule. That made her feel a little better about the male species. Or maybe Gib was one of a kind.

‘Thanks for that.’ Wanting to move on – conversations like this made her feel she was rolling in poison ivy –she asked him why he thought Golly was up to something.

‘No, you’re not going to squirm out of an explanation.’

Fuckshitdamn.

He lifted his finger and pointed it at her nose. ‘Why would you think that of me? Apart from refusing to leave the cottage I hired, I have been nothing but respectful of you and this situation. So what’s going on in that pretty, but frustrating, head of yours?’

Gerry made her feel inadequate, frequently told her she was a terrible lover, and that she’d never been able to satisfy him in bed. (Or in life.) Last night, tired and overwhelmed, her insecurities had welled up, and she’d assumed Gib was like her ex and that he’d left her to go trawling for some action. But she couldn’t tell him any of that. Not now, or at any time in the future.

She’d endured enough humiliation on that front, thank you very much.

She’d worked through their relationship, and had some therapy to deal with the pain of him and her mother hooking up –a double betrayal. She also now understood that she’d been less than enthusiastic about sex because her life had been demanding. It was hard to work a full day, write at night, juggle the bills and pick up after her man-child partner. It was hard to feel sexy when you were overwhelmed and lacked support, when you were the one who held up the sky so it didn’t collapse on their heads. She’d done that as a child, and had continued to do it with Gerrie.

And also, sex for her, and many women, started in her head; a conversation, a little laughter, and maybe, if she was lucky, some flirting. Gerry hadn’t been fluent in any language but grunt.

Gib’s huge sigh reminded her he was waiting for an answer. An answer she couldn’t give him. He pushed his hand through his wet hair and pushed up from the table. ‘ Jesus. OK, then, I’ll get my stuff together. I should be out of your hair in fifteen minutes, maybe even less.’

He was leaving? What the hell? Standing up so quickly that she pushed the bench over, she grabbed his arm. He stopped, looked down at her and lifted one eyebrow.

Letting him go would be easy, he could walk out of her life, and she could carry on as normal. But normal was very boring, and very safe. Yes, she liked her routine, and her independence, feeling safe. If she didn’t engage with people, she couldn’t disappoint them and she couldn’t be criticised or, worse, hurt.

But Gib had brought colour and a lot of excitement into her life. Something about him made her feel strong and, weirdly, secure. In the short time she’d spent with him, she’d felt more like her authentic self, like the woman she would’ve been if she’d had a normal childhood. She felt that through him, she was meeting herself…

Bottom line, she didn’t want him to go. Not now. Not yet.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, dropping her hand. ‘I’m sorry I thought that.’

‘Why did you?’

So he wasn’t going to let her off easily. Bea bit the inside of her cheek, thinking. OK, she’d cracked open the door to her heart, but there was no chance of her flinging it wide open and allowing him to see the mess inside. ‘Can I just say that I’m used to being disappointed, and am very used to people acting badly, and leave it at that?’

He crossed his big arms, his frown not as deep as it was before. ‘If that’s the case, then you need to start hanging out with better people.’

She couldn’t argue with that. She stared down at her toes, wishing she could sink into the floor. ‘And I’d like you to stay,’ she quietly stated.

Admitting that much was hard and if he said no, it would sting.

‘Where are we on sex?’

She lifted one shoulder and looked at him. ‘Not sure yet.’

‘Fair enough. Sharing the bed?’

She couldn’t spend another minute on that divan. ‘That I can do.’

A few beats later, the corners of his mouth lifted, just a little, and his eyes lightened. He pushed his hands through his hair and sighed. ‘You’re going to be trouble, aren’t you?’

‘Probably. I am, after all, Golly’s goddaughter,’ she reminded him, and the rumble of his laughter melted the remaining ice between them.

He thought she was trouble? Man, he was confusion, complication and chaos –and craving –in one six-foot-plus package.

* * *

An hour later, Bea and Gib walked into the kitchen of the villa and found Golly and Reena sitting at the vast wooden table, looking like they’d been dragged through the bougainvillaea backwards. Golly was wrapped in an oversized men’s bathrobe that skimmed the floor and Reena was dressed in leggings and a long white, slightly grubby T-shirt.

Both had massive cups of black coffee in front of them and Golly was tucking into the contents of the pot she cradled in her elbow, eating like she’d just ended a month-long hunger strike. Reena’s eyes looked a little glassy, and she swayed to music only she could hear.

Having lived with Gerry, Bea instantly recognised two people as high as kites. Her eyes swung round to Cass, who looked on the verge of tears.

‘What’s going on?’ she asked, though she was pretty sure she knew.

Cass wrung her hands together. ‘We messed up.’

At her nod, Bea turned to see Nadia standing in the door to the pantry. She tipped a rectangular cake tin and Bea saw what looked to be a thin, mangled, half-eaten layer of chocolate cake. Wait, were those chocolate brownies? Yum. Cass walked over and wrapped her arm around her wife, who looked like she wanted to walk into a wall and disappear. Nadia was a brilliant cook but tended to keep her distance from her employer and her guests. There seemed to be a lot of that going around.

And what did they mean they’d messed up? And how badly? Did they forget to order the lobster for the seafood platters? Had they double-booked and were going off back to the UK? Had they inadvertently poisoned the wrinklies?

‘What’s the problem?’ Bea demanded, her voice and panic rising.

Bea felt Gib’s hand on her back, his touch grounding her. Her heart rate dropped from 1,000 to 990, and she asked Cass to explain.

‘Is there any more of this?’ Golly interrupted, holding out her pot to Cass. Her dressing gown was only loosely tied, and Bea caught a flash of a naked, wrinkly boob. Too much, too early.

Walking over to stand in front of her, Bea pulled the dressing gown together and tightened the belt. She looked into the pot and frowned. The contents were yellow and gooey; it wasn’t porridge.

Golly slapped her hand away and tapped the pot’s rim with the back of her spoon. ‘More?’

‘I can make you some, Golly,’ Nadia softly replied. ‘But cheese sauce takes a little time. What about some oatmeal?’

Golly’s bottom lip pushed out. ‘I want cheese sauce, not oatmeal.’

Reena waved a hand in front of her face. ‘I can feel the colours, Gols. And the back of my head is prickling.’

‘I want to feel the colours, too! I want another brownie, Nadia. Why did you take them away from me?’

Bea looked at Gib, who was standing by the big free-range stove, his hand over his mouth and his shoulders shaking. Yeah, yeah, the old people were Burj Khalifa high. This wasn’t their first drug rodeo, but she didn’t expect them to be stoned at – she squinted at the dial on Gib’s fancy watch, he’d swapped his Rolex for something high tech – 8.17 a.m.

She looked at Cass. ‘Want to explain?’ she asked, heading towards the coffee machine and pushing a cup under its spout. Staying with the drug theme, she knew she’d be mainlining espressos today.

Cass took Nadia’s hand. ‘Nadia suffers from lupus, and she takes micro-doses of cannabis to keep the inflammation down.’

‘I came down early this morning and made a batch of dope cookies.’ Nadia’s voice was so low Bea had to strain to hear her. ‘I left the slab cooling in the cake tin and went back upstairs to get dressed.’

Cass bit her lip. ‘I asked Nadia if she wanted to come for a walk with me, so we headed into town.’ She lifted her chin, looking a little defiant. ‘Knowing how crazy the rest of the weekend would be, we decided to take some time out.’

And why shouldn’t they? They’d worked their butts off to pull off a last-minute event last night.

‘I came back, intending to cut up the brownies into bite-sized portions,’ Nadia said, lifting the cake tin. ‘And I found this.’

Bea winced at the ripped apart cake. Golly and Reena hadn’t used a knife, choosing to pull the brownie mixture apart with their fingers. Damn, it did look yum, and Bea could do with a hit of sugar and chocolate.

‘Don’t even think about it, Bea-darling ,’ Gib murmured, laughter in his voice.

Bea-darling ? Was him using her nickname supposed to mean something? No, they’d only recently met up again –it felt like they’d known each other for weeks, not days! –so it couldn’t. Mean anything, that is. Reena and Golly called her Bea-darling, and he’d just picked it up from them.

She stepped away from the plate and clasped her hands behind her back because, damn, the brownies looked fabulous .

‘I take it that they ate far more than they should’ve?’ she asked Nadia, resigned to the idea of Golly and Reena going back to bed for the morning. Possibly for most of the day.

‘A lot more,’ Cass stated. ‘Nadia only takes a half-inch square, and she’s used to the stuff. If I ate what she does, I would float off the ceiling.’

And the Terrible Twosome ate half the tray. Shit.

‘I’m really sorry, Bea. I didn’t think they’d be down so early, they never are usually,’ Cass gabbled.

‘They chose to eat the cake, Cassie,’ Gib quietly reminded her.

Cass tossed him a grateful glance. ‘Do you think we should take them to a doctor or something?’

Bea shook her head. ‘They’re just high, Cass, they aren’t dying. And, honestly, I’m pretty sure they’ve tried worse.’

‘I once ate magic mushrooms at Burning Man, and I loved Molly when I was younger,’ Golly grandly declared. ‘I’ve always been able to handle drugs.’

Since she was dipping her fingers into her coffee mug and trying to suck the liquid off her fingers, Bea wasn’t convinced. And Reena, head on the table, was out like a light. Bea pushed her fingertips into her forehead. ‘Jesus, Golly,’ she muttered. ‘You don’t need to brag about it!’

‘If I don’t blow my own trumpet, who will?’ Golly demanded. Her eyes, sort of, focused on Bea’s face. ‘Oh, you look so very pretty this morning, Bea-darling.’

Since she was dressed in another pair of shorts, and a sleeveless cotton shirt, this was definitely the drugs talking. OK, it was time to get her godma horizontal. ‘Let’s get you up to bed, Gols.’

Cassie bit her bottom lip. ‘Um, Bea…’

‘Yes?’

‘Does that mean that we’re not fired?’ Cass tentatively asked, her eyes reflecting her worry.

Horror made Bea’s throat constrict. ‘God, no ! If anything, I’m terrified you’re going to resign,’ she admitted. ‘Please don’t resign,’ she begged them.

They both laughed and Bea knew that one crisis was over. With Golly, it wouldn’t be long before another arrived. ‘Can someone wake Reena up and get her onto her feet?’ Bea asked Cass and Nadia.

Cass nodded and Nadia turned away to put the plate in the pantry, on the highest shelf and behind a big bag of flour. Good plan. She wouldn’t put it past the two of them to go looking for more when they sobered up.

Bea walked over to Golly, put her hand under her arm and told her to stand up. Golly swayed and Bea locked her knees and wrapped her arm around her waist. She met Gib’s eyes. ‘Are you sure you want to stay here? This is a madhouse, and I can’t guarantee it will get any better.’

His eyes softened and his mouth quirked up into that smile potent enough to melt hearts and pantie elastic. ‘Are you kidding? This is the most fun I’ve had for years.’

He strode over to them, bent his knees and scooped Golly into his arms. Golly, being Golly, ran her hand over his biceps, and murmured a low hum of approval.

‘Behave yourself, Godma,’ Bea told her. ‘Up the stairs, turn left and her room is at the end of the corridor on your right, Gib. Just dump her on the bed. Slap her hand if she gets fresh.’

He nodded and looked over at Reena. Cass was shaking her shoulder, but the older woman was dead to the world. ‘Leave her, Cass,’ he said. ‘I’ll dump Golly and I’ll come back for her,’

‘She’s heavy, Gib,’ Bea told him, wincing. Reena was tall and more muscly than Golly.

‘Then I’ll toss her over my shoulder,’ Gib replied, unfazed. ‘It’s not like she’s going to know, is she?’

That was a solid-gold truth. And if Reena didn’t want to be lugged around in a fireman’s hold, then she should’ve just said no!

Bea smiled at Gib. ‘Thanks. I knew your muscles would come in handy at some point.’

His eyes heated, she blushed, and knew he was thinking about that kiss they’d shared, the way she’d run her hands up and down his thick arms, over his chest, down his back. She’d made the most of the little time she’d had to explore his body, and running her hands over his was the sexual equivalent of riding a lightning bolt. Why had they stopped? She couldn’t remember…

Gib turned away and dammit, his back view, in another pair of board shorts and a simple sky-blue T-shirt, looked as good as his front. She sighed, and when she finally, years later, remembered where she was and what they were doing, she turned to see Nadia and Cass looking a little mesmerised, too.

‘He’s such a hottie,’ Nadia said with a sigh, surprising the hell out of Bea.

‘He really is,’ Cass agreed. ‘If I was into men, I’d fight you for him, Bea.’

Bea shook her head so hard she heard her spine creak. ‘No, I – we … um?—’

‘No … I … we … um?’ Cass mimicked her. ‘Have you lost your power to speak?’

‘I haven’t seen him since I was six years old, he’s little more than a stranger, Cass!’ Bea said, holding onto the back of a chair, her knuckles white.

‘Me and Cass slept together the night we met, got engaged two weeks later and were married two weeks after that,’ Nadia told her. ‘Time is irrelevant when the heart wants what it wants.’

Her heart wasn’t allowed to want anything, its only job was to pump blood around her body. And when did Nadia turn into Miss Chatty? She’d barely said anything since they first met, now she was commenting on Bea’s love life. Bea didn’t mind, though, and was glad Nadia felt more at ease. Anyway, she didn’t have a love life. She and Gib had merely shared a bed and a kiss. That was it. They were all being ridiculous, her life was ridiculous…

And as an exclamation to that thought, Reena released a loud and noxious fart.

‘Good God!’ Bea waved her hand in front of her face, grabbed her shirt and pulled it up and over her nose.

Cass pushed the kitchen door and windows open as wide as they could go, and Bea welcomed the gust of fresh air. Cass looked at Reena. ‘We’re sorry about this, Bea.’

It wasn’t their fault. How were they to know that Golly and Reena together were, at heart, precocious teenagers with access to far too much money? That they both lacked sense and even the smallest measure of self-preservation? ‘I don’t blame you, at all . They are wild at the best of times, and this weekend is an excuse for them to misbehave. I am dreading Saturday.’

‘You’ve nixed all her bad ideas, Bea.’ Cass reminded her. ‘It’s going to be a perfectly normal party.’

Oh, to be so optimistic and so na?ve! ‘You haven’t spent enough time with my godmother,’ she muttered. ‘Wait until she persuades everyone to a skinny dip at midnight, to a tequila-drinking contest or to do a Coyote Ugly routine on the bar and someone falls off and breaks a hip.’

‘And you think that might happen?’ Nadia asked, pulling ingredients out of the fridge and piling them onto the table. Eggs, ham, cheese, chives … was she about to make an omelette? Bea thought she could eat a couple. Or five.

‘I know something will happen,’ she said, pulling out a chair and sitting down. ‘Golly will do something, start something or nail someone, and will make it memorable.’ She looked at their confused faces and sighed. ‘Golly often seduces the married or committed. Because she’s wildly indiscreet and doesn’t give a flying fig about what people think, the news of the affair invariably gets back to the cheated party and…’ Bea mimicked an explosion. ‘I love her dearly, but she can be impossible.’

Cass leaned back against the counter and her feet. She nodded at Reena. ‘Are they … you know?’

‘Together?’ Bea asked. She looked at her godmother’s best friend, her mouth open and grey hair sticking up. ‘To be honest, I don’t know. Golly’s had affairs with women before, but I’ve never asked, and they’ve never told me. I just know they’ve been friends for years.’

‘Fifty,’ Reena muttered, ‘and she’s asked me many times. I said no.’ She wiped her hand across her mouth, swiping drool over her chin . Lovely.

Bea’s wide eyes met Cass’s, then Nadia’s. Oh, this was just getting better and better. Reena had turned down Golly? ‘Why?’ she asked, intrigued.

‘Don’t fancy women, and your godmother is damn hard work. Best friend but very dramatic. Got a fella back home, and he’s very good in the sack. We like a bit of slap and tickle, do Charlie and I.’

OK, who was Charlie and why had she never met him?

Bea spread her hands out wide, shocked. Cass slapped her hand over Nadia’s mouth to muffle her giggle.

‘Thanks for that, Reena,’ Bea said, hearing Gib jogging down the stairs.

He strode into the kitchen and flashed Bea a smile. ‘Golly’s out like a light.’

‘Thanks.’ She leaned over the table and poked Reena’s shoulder. ‘Hey, Reena, it’s time to wake up.’ She looked at Gib. ‘She was talking to us a minute ago. Reena, wake up !’

Reena turned her head away from Bea and buried her face in her armpit. Then she released a low snore, and when Bea shook her shoulder again, she didn’t respond. She placed her hands on her hips and stared down at Reena. ‘I suppose we could leave her there and eat at the other end of the table.’

Nadia waved an expensive-looking kitchen blade in her direction. It was one of her fancy ones that lived in rolled-up material. ‘No, I have too much to do today, and I need her out of my kitchen.’

Gib made a production of stretching his arms and his back, and they laughed.

‘I’ve got this,’ he told her before grimacing. ‘But if I hurt my back, I expect to be waited on hand and foot.’

‘Dream on,’ Cass scoffed, amused. ‘We might toss a piece of bread your way if you’re lucky.’

‘Such a hard woman,’ Gib said, as he pulled Reena’s chair away from the table. As she flopped forward, he boosted her up and over his shoulder, where she lay, like a loose rag doll. ‘Where am I taking her, Bea?’

She followed him to the stairs. ‘Turn right on the landing, she’s in the east wing.’

Bea followed him down the long hallway, the walls covered with art and photographs and even framed finger paintings Bea had done in kindergarten. There was no rhyme or reason to the way Golly assembled her pictures, but somehow it simply worked.

‘Should they both be this out of it?’ Gib asked, shifting Reena higher onto his shoulder.

‘They were both drinking heavily last night, and I know they carried on after the cocktail party ended. Golly posted a picture on Instagram of them laughing at around two-thirty, and they looked like they were still going strong. And they did eat way more dope brownies than they should’ve. I think the combination of drugs and booze knocked them out.’

‘Do you not think that Golly, at some point, should consider her age and start slowing down?’

Bea opened the door to Reena’s bedroom. ‘Oh, I very much do, but Golly doesn’t listen to anything I say. Feel free to suggest that to her, but there’s a chance she’ll rip off your head.’

‘Noted.’ Gib laid Reena down on her large bed and tucked a pillow under her head. He was surprisingly gentle. ‘Are either of them taking any medication that might interact with the drugs and the booze?’

‘No, nothing,’ Bea shook her head. ‘They’re both incredibly healthy. Reena takes nothing, but Golly takes vitamins and cod liver oil.’

Gib grimaced. ‘Ugh.’

Bea agreed, it was vile stuff. ‘Even if she did have a health issue, Golly wouldn’t take the meds. She’s never been a fan of Big Pharma, and if there’s a homoeopathic way to treat an illness, she’ll try that first. I remember having to eat copious amounts of garlic and parsley when I had a summer cold.’

Gib opened the door for her, and they stepped into the hallway. He pulled the door shut behind them. ‘Did it work?’

‘Eventually, but I’m pretty sure conventional medicine would’ve had me sorted in two days rather than six.’ Bea walked over to the window at the far end of the hallway and leaned her shoulder into the wall. This was a good view of groves of olive and almond trees and Profitis Ilias, the highest hill on the island.

Gib stood next to her, relaxed and at ease in his body and skin. He looked nothing like the CEO of one of the biggest and best talent, production and entertainment agencies in the world.

‘Thanks for lugging them up here. I owe you.’

He put his hands on his lower back and faked a wince. ‘I think I pulled a muscle in my back. I might need you to give me a massage.’

Bea nudged him in the ribs with her elbow and rolled her eyes at his over-egged ‘Oof.’ He was absolutely fine. In every way possible.

‘Stop being a drama queen, Caddell. I have enough of those in the house, thank you very much.’