Chapter 3
AMBER
The boat has barely left the port when Dominic announces he’s going to get drinks. I jump up and offer to help but he pushes me gently back down onto my seat.
‘I can manage. You stay here and get to know Vic and Barney.’
Once he’s gone, Victoria, whose forehead seems to be permanently set in a deep frown, asks half-heartedly about our flight, then cocks her head and assesses me with her clear blue eyes.
‘So, tell me, Amber, where did you meet our golden boy?’
‘Oh, um, it’s a bit of a cliché, I’m afraid. It was at the gym. Dom asked me for a coffee after boot camp one day. I wasn’t sure at first, to be honest, because what if it all went south and we still had to work out together? It would be totally awkward. But you know how persuasive he can be.’
‘Indeed.’
‘Anyway, coffee turned into lunch, and lunch into dinner, and we realised we had loads in common—’
She arches an eyebrow. ‘You do?’
‘Well, the gym, for starters. And we both love cooking, action movies and country music.’
‘Right.’ She pulls a compact from her bag, flips it open and carefully repaints her lipstick. I imagine her drawing two plum-coloured lines across each cheek like war paint, because I have the distinct impression that, despite Dominic’s assurances to the contrary, she does not like me.
I employ a tactic I’ve perfected with tricky customers at the call centre. ‘Killing with kindness’, Nessa calls it. Laying on the charm so thickly that even the grumpiest of customers end up making an order.
‘I’ve been so excited about meeting you all. Dom’s always talking about you guys.’ This is a lie. The first time Dom mentioned any of them was when he asked if I wanted to come to Greece, but it softens Victoria’s sharp features for a second and so is worth it.
‘So you’ve seen photos of Simone?’
‘Of course.’ This is also a lie. The only pictures in Dom’s apartment are bland, modern cityscapes. There are no family portraits on the mantelpiece, no faded snapshots of him and his friends on the corkboard in his office. Which is odd in itself, come to think of it.
‘And you don’t mind?’ Those over-plucked eyebrows are on the move skywards again.
Don’t mind what? I almost say, but once again I bite my tongue, because I don’t want to give her the satisfaction of realising I have no idea what she’s talking about.
I shake my head and my ponytail swings from side to side. ‘Course not.’
‘Well, you’re a better woman than I am. I need to make a call.
’ She takes her phone from her bag. ‘The children are staying with my parents for the week, but I always phone and speak to them before bedtime. It’s my non-negotiable.
’ She dials, then turns away, the phone pressed against her ear.
‘Mummy, it’s me. Signal’s not great. Can you hear me? ’
I turn to Barney and smile brightly. ‘How many children do you have?’
‘What? Oh. Three. James is ten and the twins, Sophie and Amelia, are eight.’
‘Did they not want to come to Greece with you?’
‘They didn’t get the option. We needed a break. Besides, they’re better off with Vic’s parents.’ His phone buzzes and he glances sidelong at his wife, who is checking if the children have brushed their teeth. He stands. ‘I might stretch my legs.’
‘Of course,’ I say, somewhat redundantly.
I watch him shuffle away with a sinking feeling in my stomach.
Victoria and Barney clearly have no interest in me, and I’m not sure I blame them.
We don’t exactly move in the same circles.
Victoria is the chief executive of a homeless charity and Barney is a financial adviser to the rich and famous.
I sell cavity wall insulation. I correct myself.
I used to sell cavity wall insulation. Now I’m not sure I still have a job.
I can just imagine Victoria’s face if I told her I was unemployed.
Dominic finally appears with a tray of drinks. Gin and tonics for Barney and Victoria, a pint of lager for him and a Coke for me. Relief that he’s back makes me giddy, or maybe it’s just the hydrofoil’s occasional lurch as it skims across the sea towards Thalassia.
I take my Coke and Dominic plonks himself beside me, his thigh warm against mine, solid and reassuring.
‘All right, angel?’
I smile at him. ‘I am now.’
I lean back, my head on his shoulder. I need to think of this week in Pelagia as a reset. A chance to put a line under everything that’s happened. A new start.
I must doze off, as I wake sometime later to the sound of the tannoy announcing we’ve reached Thalassia and are about to disembark.
Dom tucks a loose strand of my hair behind my ear. ‘Hey, sleepyhead, we’re here.’
I drag my hands down my face. My brain feels muzzy, pixilated. I look around. Victoria and Barney are gathering up their luggage. Dom has already piled ours into a single neat stack. ‘Do I have time to go to the toilet?’
‘If you’re quick.’
I follow signs to the ladies, pushing through the flow of other passengers like a salmon heading upstream.
In the toilets I splash water onto my face, retie my ponytail and rub at the smudge of mascara under my right eye.
I pat colour into my cheeks and straighten my crumpled top.
My pasty reflection stares back at me, unimpressed.
How do women like Victoria manage to look as though they’ve just stepped out of the pages of a Boden catalogue while I look like I’ve stepped out of a bush?
Some people are just born lucky, I guess.
People like Dom and his friends, so polished you could see your reflection in them if you looked hard enough.
I feel a pang of jealousy, which is not like me.
I’ve learnt to be content with my lot. If I’d spent my life envying everyone else, I’d have driven myself mad.
I tramp back up the stairs to the others. Dominic is on his phone, his face animated.
‘We’ll look out for him. I know, it’s been too long. See you soon, angel.’ He ends the call. ‘Simone,’ he explains and I nod tightly because I thought I was his angel. ‘I was just letting her know we’ve arrived in Thalassia. Looking forward to meeting her?’
‘Of course,’ I say with a smile, because he doesn’t need to know how much I’m dreading it.
Victoria glances up from her suitcase. She’s pushed her Jackie O sunglasses onto the top of her head. Amusement flickers in her eyes. Amusement, and something else. It’s not until we’re on the quay, about to climb into the sea taxi, that I work out what it is.
Spite.