Chapter 6
AMBER
Dominic and I round another bend in the track to find ourselves staring at a wall of wooden hoardings. It’s just possible to make out a sign in the half-light.
Elysium Construction
The art of luxury living.
‘Is this Simone and Felix’s villa?’ I ask, puzzled.
‘No, theirs is a bit further on. Simone told me some Russian shipping magnate was building a place just down from theirs. This must be it.’
‘Funny name for a building company. Isn’t Elysium like the afterlife or something?’
‘I don’t know about that, but Simone said Felix was apoplectic and I can see why. It’s going to ruin their views of Kalypso Bay.’
We leave the entrance to the building site and continue along the track. Before long we’ve reached a pair of stone pillars topped with glass spheres that give off a moon-like glow.
‘Here we are.’ Dominic waves his phone so the beam sweeps across the entrance.
Villa Paradiso is spelt out in neat turquoise tiles, embedded in a low, whitewashed wall.
Further along, towards a pair of cedar gates, a black intercom is mounted beside a brushed-steel letterbox.
Something whirrs, and I glance up. A discreet camera is pivoting, tracking our approach.
Dom steps up to the wall and presses the buzzer. There’s a crackle, followed by a woman’s voice.
‘Dom, is that you?’
‘You betcha, baby.’
‘Come and find us. We’re having drinks on the terrace.’
The gates begin to hum and slowly swing open, revealing a gravel drive lit by more golden orbs that are strung from the branches of olive trees. The effect is beautiful. Otherworldly.
‘Wow.’ I whistle. ‘It’s like a fairy grotto.’
Dom laughs. ‘Probably best not to tell Simone. I’m not sure that’s quite the look she’s aiming for. This way.’
The drive curves again and I gasp. I can’t help myself.
Dominic said the villa was gorgeous and he wasn’t exaggerating.
Illuminated by spotlights strategically placed in an unnaturally green lawn, Villa Paradiso is the most stunning house I’ve ever seen.
The low-slung, two-storey building is icing-sugar white, with wooden shutters the colour of lapis lazuli and garlands of deep-pink bougainvillea creeping up the walls.
‘Pretty cool, huh?’ Dom says, smiling at my rapt expression.
I grin back. ‘Pretty cool,’ I agree.
The driveway leads to a gravel footpath that threads its way around the side of the villa.
Voices carry on the warm evening breeze and my heart rate quickens.
The spike of anxiety is as familiar and unwelcome as a fever.
I used to feel like this before a visit from my social worker, a softly spoken woman called Lisa, who held my future in her hands.
The knowledge that I was just another name on her already straining caseload was a constant source of worry to nine-year-old me.
I follow Dominic onto a generous terrace beside an infinity pool glowing with underwater lights. It must overlook the ocean, because for the first time since we stepped off the sea taxi, I can taste salt on the breeze.
‘At last!’ a woman cries, and suddenly Dominic is no longer at my side but has crossed the terrace in long strides and swept up a slender, dark-haired woman, spinning her round and round until her skirt and hair are flying and she’s laughing in delight.
They make such a glamorously beautiful couple I might as well be standing on the set of a luxury perfume ad, waiting for the director to yell cut!
They’re friends, I remind myself. Old friends who haven’t caught up in a while. Nothing more. But as I hover awkwardly on the edge of the terrace, fiddling with the strap of my bag, I wonder if Dominic has told me the whole story.