Chapter Twenty-Eight
Twenty-eight
“Can I take this?”
Skye’s voice was hoarse. She reached for the newspaper, covering the image of herself with a splayed hand.
“Of course,” Cora said, seemingly nonplussed. She must not have seen the article yet, though it could only be a matter of time.
Mumbling incoherently that she’d be in touch about the English lessons, Skye grabbed her bags and stumbled from the shop, Joy following a few moments later.
“Are you all right?” she said, running to keep up.
Skye tried to say yes, but she couldn’t force the word past the lump in her throat. Instead she leaned into the wind and continued to walk back toward the main road, toward home.
A horn sounded, and she swung around to see a truck slowing to a crawl. It was Andreas, his elbow resting on the open window, curls blowing around a smile that fell when he saw the look on her face. Skye said nothing; all she could do was stare at him.
“You on your way up the hill?” Joy called, panting slightly as she caught up with them.
“Nai,” he said, not taking his eyes off Skye. “Can I offer you a lift?”
Joy pulled open the back door, but Skye remained where she was.
“I’d better not,” she mumbled, holding up a carrier bag. “There’s an octopus in here and it’s dripping everywhere.”
“Do you think I care about a bit of water in the truck?” he replied, his tone more teasing.
Skye shrugged.
“éla,” he said, cocking his head. “Get in.”
Tigri was stretched out in the sun when they pulled up outside.
From across the hillside came the faint sound of drilling, thin behind the whistling breeze.
Neither matched the thud of Skye’s heart, echoing loud in her ears.
She was still tightly clasping the newspaper, its print leaving dark smudges across her skin.
“Let me help you,” Andreas said, as she struggled to get her key in the lock. Several pages fell to the ground, and she scrambled to reach them before he did, their foreheads colliding hard.
“Shit,” she muttered, hot tears stinging her eyes.
Andreas stepped back, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
“I’ll take this lot in, shall I?” Joy said, giving Skye a curious look as she retrieved the groceries.
“Sorry about your head,” Skye began. Andreas tried for a smile.
“Why are you hiding the newspaper?” he asked.
“I’m not.” Skye shoved the crumpled pages out of sight.
“éla, you are,” he said. “But it does not matter. I have already seen it. There is another copy in the truck. I was bringing it here to show you.”
“Oh.”
“Oh,” he repeated.
“You’ve read it?” she asked.
“Nai.”
“And? What does it say?”
Joy appeared in the open doorway.
“What does what say?” she prompted.
Skye looked imploringly at Andreas.
“There is a story in the paper,” he said. “It is about this house.”
“Really?” Joy pried the pages from Skye’s fingers and began to smooth them out. “Have you read it?”
“No,” Skye snapped. “How could I? I can’t read Greek.”
Joy’s eyes widened.
“éla,” Andreas soothed, “why are you so angry?”
“I’m not angry with you two, I’m just angry that— They’ve used my picture,” she said, jabbing an accusatory finger at the newspaper.
The image was of her and Andreas in the garden, their heads bowed together, both glancing back at whoever had taken the photo.
Adam, she recalled furiously. He’d been the one with a camera.
Andreas held out a hand to Joy.
“Can I?” he said.
Skye wondered if he’d been swimming. His hair and the neck of his T-shirt were damp, and he was in shorts rather than his usual jeans.
“I don’t think it’s fair that they can do that,” she went on. “Use a photo of someone without their permission.”
Andreas scrutinized the picture more closely.
“It is not such a bad photo,” he said. “I do not care.”
“That’s because you don’t—”
Skye fell abruptly silent. She could feel the two of them looking at her, judging her, trying to work her out.
“Shall we go inside?” Joy suggested. “Maybe Andreas could read it out to us?”
The shutters were yet to be hung, and the lounge area was bathed in brilliant light.
Andreas paused to admire a framed photograph Skye had hung earlier that morning—one of the final few she had taken with her dad before he’d died.
They were laughing, her face turned toward his, a cake on the table in front of them aglow with burning candles.
“Your house is beginning to look like a home,” he said as Skye sat down and hugged one of the evil-eye cushions against her chest. Joy perched beside her, but Andreas remained standing, the newspaper taut between his large hands. He cleared his throat, took a breath, and began to read:
Proto Thema, June 29, 2025
Bones Found in Garden of Lottery Winner’s House
Police were called to a house on the island of Folegandros after bones were discovered in the rear garden of a property in Ano Meria.
The shallow grave emerged following the recent storms, which caused part of an old wall to collapse and expose the cavity beneath.
Proto Thema understands that the site was not marked by a stone, nor were the bones encased in a casket or other covering.
A local police officer confirmed, “We were called at 3:45 p.m. to the report that the homeowner had discovered the bones while inspecting her garden for damage. The discovery was removed and is in the process of being analyzed to determine whether the bones are animal or human.”
A freelance journalist who happened to be in the village at the time told Proto Thema that he spoke with the owner of the house, a Ms. Skye MacKinnon, 34, who claimed, “The most likely scenario is that the bones were someone’s pet dog or cat.”
Ms. MacKinnon, who hails from England, secured the formerly derelict house as part of a €1 lottery scheme run by the municipality of Folegandros in a bid to revive the area.
She has spent the past four weeks renovating the property with the help of local contractor Andreas Vithoulkas (both pictured).
The house is one of six at the heart of the scheme, all of which were abandoned in the final days of the Second World War.
Ms. MacKinnon’s neighbor Victoria Beaumont, 37, admitted that the bones are not the first discovery made by the island’s newest residents, and that her husband, Adam Beaumont, a lawyer and keen photographer, had recently bought a metal detector in order to search the grounds of their own property.
“We believe this is only the beginning,” Victoria told the journalist. “Whatever secrets the village has been hiding, we’re determined to dig them all up.”
Folegandros was occupied during the war, initially predominantly by Italian forces until their surrender in September 1943, when the Germans attempted to seize control of the Cyclades Islands.
Atrocities were commonplace, and in many areas across Greece, entire villages were destroyed, local people executed, and houses burned.
It is not yet known what occurred on this small hillside plot in Ano Meria, but perhaps the discovery of these bones will prove to be the first clue.
Andreas lowered the newspaper, his face impassive.
Skye felt as if she’d been turned to stone. Her name. They had used not only her photograph but her full name, the location of the house, the details about how she’d acquired it.
“Proto Thema,” she said faintly. “Is it a local newspaper or—?”
“óchi,” Andreas said slowly. “It’s one of the most popular Sunday newspapers in all of Greece.”
Skye swallowed.
“Right,” she said. Then more decisively: “Right.”
There was only one thought in her mind, and it was persuasive enough to propel her into motion. She reached the stairs and took them two at a time, her sneakers scuffing the white-painted boards.
“Where are you going?” Joy called.
Skye ignored her. In her bedroom, she yanked down her suitcase from the top of her wardrobe and threw it onto the bed, grabbing shoes, handfuls of underwear, leggings, shorts, and shirts.
Joy and Andreas appeared in the doorway.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Packing,” Skye replied.
“Why? Where are you going?”
“Away.”
“Away to where?”
“Just away.”
“Because of the article?” Joy asked.
Skye swore as the zip of her case snagged on an errant sock.
“I can’t be here,” she told them. “Not anymore.”
Andreas moved aside as she stormed through into the bathroom, shoving shampoo, toothpaste, and tampons into her toiletries bag.
“What’s the big deal?” Joy said as Skye dodged around her. “Why are you running away? The story will be forgotten in a few days.”
Martyn would’ve set up a Google alert for all iterations of her name—of that Skye was certain. It was no longer safe for her to be here.
“Excuse me,” she said to Andreas. He was blocking her path into the bedroom and didn’t budge at her request.
“Where will you go?” he asked. “To another island? The mainland?”
“I don’t know yet,” she said. “I’ll get to the port, then I’ll decide. Will you drive me?”
She looked up at him, but Andreas was unmoved.
“Only,” he said, “if you tell me the real reason why.”
Skye head rocked back with a groan.
“Please,” she begged, close to tears. “I just need to get out of here.”
Andreas moved to comfort her, only for his phone to ring.
As he reached for it, Skye slipped past, hurling the few toiletries she’d collected into the suitcase.
From the landing, his low conversation drifted in, just a few words: “Nai,” “Entáxei.” By the time he returned, Joy at his side, Skye had zipped the case and found her passport.
The confusion on his face had given way to something graver.
“What is it?” she asked. “What’s happened?”
He stared at her, his gaze unwavering.
“That was the police,” he said.
Skye went very still.
“The tests on the bones have been completed.”
“Already?” Joy said. “That was quick.”
“And?” Skye said, taking a step toward him. “Are they animal or human?”
Andreas glanced down at the phone in his hand.
“It is not one or the other,” he said. “The police found traces of both.”