Chapter Sixteen
Sixteen
It was Joy’s suggestion that they decamp to her house for an impromptu party of sorts. She was “bloody proud” of the grill she’d built out back and wanted an excuse to use it.
“You fellas go and get some chicken for souvlaki,” she told Andreas and Adam. “Me and the girls will throw together some salad, not that there’s room to throw much of anything in my kitchen.”
Mia followed Skye, Victoria, and Joy next door, while Louisa and Dusty stayed behind to wash off the day’s dirt.
“How did you get out of the excavating?” Joy asked Mia, who threw her a mischievous grin.
“I promised I’d muck in after walking Bruno, but once we’d got all the way down to the beach, neither of us felt much like moving again, did we, Brunes?”
The dog, who had dutifully accompanied his mistress across to Joy’s and was now splayed out on her kitchen floor, wagged his tail by way of reply.
“He’s a regular little shadow of yours, isn’t he?” Victoria observed, tossing her hair over one shoulder. The galley kitchen was so narrow that the tip of her ponytail hit Skye in the eye. “Adam thinks we should adopt one, but I don’t know.”
“Oh, you should,” Mia enthused. “As a vet, I’m not supposed to have favorites when it comes to animals, but dogs really are in a different league—and you go off on hikes a lot, don’t you? A dog would be great company.”
“Who says I want company?” Victoria said mildly. “Hiking is when I do my thinking—it’s my time-out from reality.”
Skye took three red peppers from the fridge and cast around for a chopping board.
“I’m terrible at spending time by myself,” Mia went on. “Dusty’s always been a bit of a loner, and Louisa goes along with what everyone else wants, but I prefer company. Human or animal, it doesn’t much matter. Shall I go and see if Theo and George want to join us?”
“Good idea,” Joy said, shooing her from the room before turning back to the others. “She reminds me of a bee, that one. Always buzzing from place to place, person to person.”
Victoria mopped her eyes.
“Jeez,” she said, “these onions are savage.”
“I can do them,” Skye offered. “You take over the peppers.”
They switched places, Victoria almost sending a bowl of lemons flying as she squeezed past the table.
“I’m starting to think Andreas might have a point about doing an extension,” Joy mused as she reached around them to open a drawer. “If I let the builders in, though, I’ll never get any bloody peace and quiet.”
Skye swept the chopped onion on top of the pepper, then tore open a slab of feta. The cheese was slick with moisture, its aroma ripe and salty.
“Do you have any oregano for these tomatoes?” Victoria asked. Joy went outside, returning with a fresh sprig just as Mia burst back into the kitchen, followed by Adam and Andreas. Both were weighed down with an assortment of meats, beers, and bags of chips.
“If you can allow me a space,” Andreas said, extracting a pot of yogurt from one of the bags, “then I will prepare my special tzatziki.”
Joy, who’d just pried open a bottle of Mythos on the edge of the sink, moved aside only to trip over a still-slumbering Bruno.
“Bloody hell,” she cried as beer sprayed up the wall.
Skye caught Andreas’s eye.
“No Theo?” Victoria said as Mia began to spear chunks of raw chicken breast onto a skewer.
“Sadly not,” she said. “He can’t leave George on his own but sent his apologies.”
“Once the smell from the grill drifts over the wall, I bet they’ll change their minds,” Adam said.
He’d swapped his shirt and tie for a plain tee and seemed far more relaxed.
Victoria, by contrast, had grown quieter, more reserved.
Her earlier remark about not wanting company had stuck with Skye, though the reasons behind it remained unclear.
It didn’t seem to be about Adam, whose arms were wrapped around his wife, his voice low in her ear, but something else lingered beneath the surface.
Skye wondered if the comment had been a subtle invitation to talk.
Had her own guardedness caused her to miss an opening?
She attempted to catch the other woman’s eye, but Victoria’s attention was solely on her husband.
“Finally,” Mia chorused as Dusty and Louisa appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Took you long enough.”
“Cinderella here made me wait while she did her makeup,” Dusty said, accepting a beer from Adam. Louisa cringed with mortification.
“I told you to go ahead without me,” she protested.
“Well, you look lovely,” Joy said. “Doesn’t she, Andreas?”
“Eh?” He paused in the process of grating cucumber and turned around. “Nai. Very nice. All you ladies are very beautiful.”
“Kiss ass,” Joy said with a smirk before heading into the garden.
Skye went after her, clutching the bowl of Greek salad.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been at a gathering like this—three years ago, maybe four?
Her dad had loved hosting, but every party he’d thrown had been of the laid-back kind: friends turning up with a bottle, pizzas ordered and shared, lanterns lit in the garden, and laughter filling the air.
Her mother had continued to invite those same acquaintances to the house after he’d died, but the setup was more formal.
Dinner parties with labeled seating plans, an Ottolenghi recipe painstakingly prepared and matched with expensive wine.
Talk at these types of gatherings was muted, dry, political—Skye would sit beside Martyn, say nothing at all while he sermonized about this subject and that, his hand on her thigh, the pressure just hard enough that she knew not to move, not to speak, not to do anything that might draw attention.
Not once on all those occasions did her mother notice that anything was wrong.
“You all right, chook?” Joy asked.
Skye started.
“Fine,” she said. Her new most-used word. “I’m fine.”
Joy transferred the chicken skewers from a tray onto the grill.
“You know, if you ever need to talk,” she said, “about anything, you can talk to me. I know I’ve got a gob on me the size of a croc’s, but I’m not a gossip. You can trust me.”
“Thanks,” Skye said, then, unable to think of anything better to say, she added a “Sorry.”
Joy picked up a set of tongs and made as if to pinch her with them.
“Enough of that,” she said. “I won’t mention it again. I just wanted you to know.”
Skye felt the swell of tears in her throat.
The view was different from Joy’s garden, the Church of Panagía not visible, its soft, pale edges hidden behind the curve of the hillside.
But there was still the sea, shimmering in the distance, and above it, a sky so blue that it barely seemed real.
Not a cloud in sight, only the honeyed yolk of the sun, moving slowly west.
“Where do you want these?”
It was Mia, clutching paper plates and a fistful of cutlery.
“Oh, anywhere,” Joy said, turning a skewer. Adam and Victoria were busy setting up a makeshift bar on the patio table, while Dusty stalked around with a can of mosquito spray, ready to douse any unsuspecting insects. Joy half turned to face Skye.
“Be a darl and go get me another beer, would you?” she said. “There’s Mythos in the fridge.”
Skye went inside and found Andreas where she’d left him, adding a finishing garnish of mint leaves to his dip. Louisa was next to him, damp red hair trailing down her back, head bowed as if the two were sharing a confidence. When she noticed Skye, her cheeks flared.
“éla.” Andreas dug a teaspoon into the tzatziki and beckoned to her. “You can be my tester.”
He made as if to hand-feed her, but Skye ducked away, assailed by a sudden image of herself, curled up and cowering.
“I can do it,” she said, taking the spoon from him. The tzatziki was tangy and fresh tasting, with a satisfactory punch of garlic.
“What is the Greek word for ‘delicious’?” she asked.
Andreas smiled broadly.
“ ‘Ypérocho,’ ” he said, looking down at the cluttered countertop. “The only problem is how much mess it makes.”
“I can clear all this away,” Louisa said. “Honestly, it’s no bother.”
Andreas hesitated.
“You are sure?”
“I’m very sure.”
Louisa, Skye mused as she edged past them to reach the fridge, couldn’t have looked more smitten. Unfortunately for her, Andreas seemed oblivious. He simply wiped his hands on a tea towel, scooped up the bowl of dip, and headed out into the garden without a backward glance.
“Do you want some help?” Skye offered as Louisa turned on the tap.
“No, don’t worry.”
“A beer?”
“Not for me.” Louisa let out a small sigh. “I don’t really drink. My mum, she was…she drank too much. It made her ill, hard to live with.”
Skye cursed inwardly. “I’m sorry,” she said. “That must have been tough.”
“I knew it would catch up with her eventually,” Louisa said, her head down, hands busy. “Dusty’s still angry with her for dying, and I think Mia’s in shock. She refuses to talk about it, even to me.”
“Losing a parent is—” Skye stopped abruptly as something untethered inside her.
“It’s why we came here,” Louisa went on, sponging yogurt off a fork.
“Mum’s dream was always to live on a Greek island.
She told us about Folegandros, said she’d been here a few times during her hippie heyday.
When the news about this lottery appeared the day after her funeral, it felt like she was sending us a message.
I didn’t even tell the other two, I just went ahead and entered, and now, well, here we are. ”
She spoke carefully, her voice strained and movements slow, all at once seeming much older than twenty-five.
Grief had done that to Skye, too, wrenching her inside out.
Even now, years on, it still had the power to dismantle her.
No wonder Louisa was drawn to someone like Andreas—steady, capable, kind.
As dependable as the steel beams he was adamant on installing in each of their homes.
“Is it helping?” Skye asked. “Being here on the island, I mean.”
Louisa turned from the sink.
“It’s funny,” she said. “I thought coming here would make me feel closer to Mum, but if anything, I feel further away from her.”
Skye thought about her own grief, how it would never leave her.
“The people we truly love become part of us,” she said. “It doesn’t matter how far we go from where they last were, because they’re still here, living quietly in the folds of our hearts.”
Louisa’s eyes shone.
“Do you really believe that?”
Skye met her gaze, a small, wistful smile tugging at her lips.
“I have to,” she said.