Chapter 69
WILLOW
Mum’s finally here. I walk down to the jetty to meet her, and when she gives me a hug and I breathe in her familiar Chanel perfume, I’m not gonna lie, I burst into tears.
‘Oh, sweetheart. I’m so sorry about your dad. How are you doing?’
It’s the question everyone’s been asking me. Usually, it sets my teeth on edge. My dad’s been murdered. How d’you think I’m doing? But it’s different coming from Mum.
‘It’s been awful,’ I weep. ‘I wish you’d been here.’
‘I came as soon as I could, darling.’ She fishes around in her handbag, pulls out a packet of tissues and hands them to me.
I blow my nose. ‘I know.’
‘How far’s the villa?’ she asks, looking around.
I’d forgotten she’s never been here before. Dad bought the land a couple of years after their divorce. He’d have let her use the place if she’d asked, but she never did. She’s too independent.
‘Ten minutes?’ I pick up her carry-on and she threads her arm through mine.
She keeps up a stream of chat on the way to the villa, telling me about the perfume she found in duty-free, the screaming toddler on the flight and the surprise upgrade at her hotel in Corfu Town.
Listening to her is like a salve. Before long I can feel some of the tension in my shoulders easing.
As we pass the hoardings for Villa Olympus she stops and points.
‘Is that where it happened?’
‘No, but it’s where he was found. The murder weapon, too.’
‘The marble bust of Athena?’ Mum rolls her eyes. ‘Knowing what a womaniser your father was, it should have been Aphrodite.’
I give a small smile in spite of myself. My parents’ spiky relationship is part of the fabric of my childhood. I’d be far more worried if Mum started extolling Dad’s virtues.
We reach the villa and she follows me past the officer stationed outside the front door and onto the terrace.
‘No expense spared, I see,’ she comments, taking in the infinity pool, the fancy rattan furniture and the enormous Ali Baba pots brimming with trailing pink geraniums. ‘Where is everyone?’
‘Must be inside. No one’s allowed to leave except me.’ Inspector Demetriou confirmed yesterday that as I’d given my statement and wasn’t a person of interest in his investigation, I was free to go. Mum and I are booked on a flight to Gatwick in the morning.
‘I suppose I should say hello to Simone and offer my commiserations, though frankly she’s probably better off without him.’
‘Mum!’ I cry.
‘Sorry, sweetheart, that was uncalled for. No one deserves to be bludgeoned to death with a bust of Athena, not even your father. I know you probably won’t believe it, but I’ll miss the old bastard.
’ Her eyes fill with tears, and I know if I stay, I’ll start blubbing too, so I make her a coffee and go in search of Simone.
It’s only as I head through the hallway, averting my gaze from the empty plinth where Athena should be, that it strikes me how quiet the villa is.
You can always hear something, whether it’s people talking, music playing or Maria clattering pots and pans in the kitchen. But it’s as quiet as a grave.
I swallow. Wrong word choice. Why is it that absolutely everything reminds me of death? I shake my head and pull myself together. Mum’s here, and by this evening I’ll be back in Corfu ready to fly home in the morning.
I can’t wait.
‘Simone!’ I yell up the stairs, sighing loudly when there’s no answer.
I head up, one hand on the rail, my feet dragging and my skin crawling the way it always does at the thought of Mum and Simone in the same room together.
Perhaps they’ll make a heroic effort to put the barbed comments and backhanded compliments to one side and call a truce, given the circumstances. Pigs might fly.
I knock on Dad and Simone’s bedroom door, and when there’s no answer I let myself in.
The curtains are drawn and the room is a mess, clothes strewn over the unmade bed, a wet towel on the floor of the en suite and what seems like the entire contents of Simone’s capacious make-up bag trailed across the dressing table.
Resentment rises in me. She has the cheek to say I’m the messy one.
I’d take her to task but she’s clearly not here, which is odd, because if she’s not here, where is she? Deciding to ask Dom and Amber if they’ve seen her, I make my way back onto the landing, almost walking slap bang into Victoria.
‘Sorry,’ I mutter.
‘Don’t be.’ Victoria cocks her head, her eyes narrowed. ‘I was coming to find you, actually. There’s something I wanted to ask you.’
‘Er, sure,’ I say, hoping she doesn’t notice the flush that’s creeping up my neck and threatening to stain my cheeks a deep red. ‘What is it?’
Just at that moment, Maria’s voice carries up the stairs. ‘Mrs Wyndham, your mother is on the telephone. She’s been trying your mobile but says it’s switched off.’
Victoria gives me a long, appraising look, one that says she hasn’t finished with me yet, and calls back, reluctantly, ‘I’m coming.’
I bow my head and scurry towards Dom and Amber’s room, feeling like I’ve dodged a bullet. I knock. No answer. I push open the door. The bedroom and en suite are both empty.
I’m turning to leave when I see a note in Simone’s distinctive loopy handwriting, half hidden by a fold in the bedsheets. I grab it and quickly scan it. My stomach drops.
I can help you prove your innocence. Meet me at the lighthouse. Come alone.