Chapter Thirty-Five
Thirty-five
It was four days before Andreas returned.
From her spot high on the ridge, Skye caught sight of his truck winding along the road, a flicker of relief sparking before uncertainty took over. It was still early, not yet nine, but she’d been awake for hours, roused from sleep by the insistent clang of church bells.
Sunday again. No ferries. No Martyn.
Dust rose as the truck crunched over the hillside, pulling up not at her house but at the sisters’.
Andreas climbed out, his dark hair catching the light.
Skye watched him throw a quick glance over his shoulder before heading for the door.
She didn’t think he’d spotted her up on the mountainside.
There had been no wave, no nod of greeting, no signal whatsoever.
The warmth of the morning seemed to slip away as he disappeared inside. Skye lowered her gaze and traced a crack in the earth with the toe of her shoe. Not far from where she sat, rockroses had opened their delicate pink faces to the sun, small bursts of color against the wide, arid gold landscape.
A rustle in the near silence made Skye turn in time to see a lone goat making its way across the loose stones toward her.
“Geiá sou,” she murmured.
The goat fixed her with its pale marble-like eyes. One of its long ears was black and the other brown, though its flanks were predominantly white. As it lowered its head to nibble half-heartedly at a tuft of dry grass, the bell around its neck gave a soft jingle.
“I hope you’re not lost,” Skye said, though she doubted it. There were enough trails of goat dung around the village to convince her that the animals went wherever they pleased, and on more than one occasion, they had followed her back from the shop, muzzles pushing into her bags in search of food.
“I don’t have anything for you,” she said now as the goat began to nudge at her side. “The only thing in my fridge is leftover octopus, and I don’t think even you would want that.”
She and Joy had finally attempted to prepare the matsata dish the previous evening, but it had ended in disaster.
The octopus had turned chewy once defrosted, the pasta had adhered itself to the bottom of the pan, while Joy’s decision to add “a decent glug of voddy” had rendered the sauce inedible.
In the end, they’d opened a bag of Lay’s chips and dunked them into eggplant dip.
The goat nudged her for a second time, hard enough that she toppled to one side.
“You’re right,” Skye said, reaching over to stroke its neck. “I should get up.”
From somewhere below came the waspy buzz of a moped engine. No wind today, only heat, the sea a glittering carpet of fallen stars.
She had not planned on a route that would take her past the sisters’ house, but her legs carried her there regardless. She wanted to see Andreas even if he did not want to see or speak to her.
The front door was ajar. Skye stepped inside and was about to call out a tentative “hello” when she heard raised voices.
“You must do as I say.”
A man—probably Andreas.
“Oh, I must, must I?”
A woman—almost certainly Dusty.
Skye moved across the living area, with its mess of mattresses, tangled sheets, and piles of discarded clothing, and cut through the minuscule kitchen into the garden beyond.
Mia was there, sunbathing in a deck chair, while Louisa stood rigidly in the shade, a panting Bruno by her feet.
Dusty and Andreas were a short distance away, postures set, Dusty’s hands on her hips as Andreas gestured past her toward the extension.
“What’s going on?” Skye asked.
Louisa yelped in fright and spun around, a hand pressed to her chest. The green sundress she wore complemented the richness of her fox-red hair, though the worry etched on her face dulled its shine. Mia, by contrast, did little more than open one eye.
“Oh, hi,” she said, readjusting her bikini bottoms.
“You scared the life out of me,” Louisa added in her musical Bristolian accent.
Skye flashed her a sheepish grin. “I would’ve knocked, but the door was open.”
“It does that,” Mia said through a yawn. “Dusty keeps promising to fix the latch, then forgetting. She’s so obsessed with the extension, although it appears our resident builder has taken issue with it.”
“I thought as much,” Skye said, casting a glance in Andreas’s direction. “Don’t tell me, it’s to do with a lack of steel supports?”
“That’s only part of it,” Louisa replied wearily. “Today it’s something about permits or restrictions. I’m not sure, to be honest. It’s all gobbledygook to me.”
Andreas had unfolded a document of some kind and was tapping it with an insistent finger as Dusty looked on, radiating insolence.
“Should we do something?” Skye said.
Mia stretched her arms above her head.
“Nah,” she said. “I’m enjoying being a spectator.”
“I’ll go and make some cold drinks,” Louisa said. “Cool everyone off a bit.”
Mia slid deeper into the deck chair and closed her eyes.
“If there are any of those mojito Popsicles Joy made for us, can I have one of those instead?”
Louisa paused at the door.
“Remind me what your last slave died of?” she muttered.
“Exhaustion,” Mia replied sweetly.
Skye suppressed a smile as she watched the easy way the sisters teased each other.
She hadn’t been lonely as a child, not exactly, just aware of how much she would’ve loved an ally, someone to stand with her when the atmosphere at home became tense.
However, the absence of a sibling had left her skilled at diplomacy, and she felt confident enough in herself to approach the warring duo farther down the garden.
Andreas was facing away, but Dusty saw her coming and waved.
“Thank God you’re here,” she said to Skye. “You can help me talk some sense into this oaf.”
Andreas blinked irritably.
“Oaf? What is ‘oaf’?”
“It’s you,” Dusty said, folding her arms across a threadbare T-shirt. Her distinctive hair was crammed under a baseball cap, and a spray of mosquito bites dotted one cheek.
“Now, now.” Skye adopted her best teacherly tone. “Let’s not resort to name-calling.”
Andreas thrust a sheet of paper under her nose.
“Building regulations,” he said. “The document contains many references and terms that are specific to Greek law, and she does not understand Greek law.”
“I know how to read a permit,” Dusty said icily.
“This land is agrotemáchio,” Andreas said, his boots agitating the dry ground. “That means the extension must join to the house there”—he pointed—“and be constructed using the same materials. Not this foreign timber and cheap plasterboard.”
“It’s not cheap,” Dusty fumed. “Once it’s up, you’ll never notice the difference.”
Skye watched Andreas, noting the lines carved across his brow, the way he kept chewing at his lower lip. It wasn’t anger she saw but concern.
“Are you saying these stipulations are the law?” she asked.
Andreas turned to her, though he wouldn’t meet her eye.
“Nai,” he said. “There is a danger that if she continues to build in this way, the municipality will find fault, and she will be forced to tear the whole thing down.”
“You’re just cross because I’m doing the work myself instead of paying you,” Dusty accused. “It’s a male pride thing,” she added to Skye. “Men can’t bear it when they see a woman doing a job better than they could.”
“I don’t think that’s true,” Skye began, but Dusty wasn’t finished.
“Ever since he found out what I did for a living, he’s been sticking his beak in, looking for reasons to undermine me.”
“You are mistaken,” Andreas said firmly.
“I do not want you to get into trouble with the authorities, and—” He broke off as Louisa approached, a tray balanced in her hands.
A large jug of water, bright with slices of lemon and cucumber, sat beside four glasses and a bowl of pistachios.
Dusty reached across and helped herself to a handful, while Skye poured each of them a drink.
“Here,” she said, offering one to Andreas. He hesitated, then took it, careful to avoid touching her fingers. For a few moments, nobody spoke. Ice clinked against glass, the only other sound the faint crack of pistachio shells being pried open.
“You were going to say something else,” Skye prompted with a glance at Andreas. “No,” she added quickly as Dusty started to interrupt. “Let him finish.”
“What was it you wanted to say?” Louisa asked, her voice steady but her gaze almost too direct.
She no longer blushed at the mere sight of Andreas, but something in the way she looked at him still gave her away.
Skye took a sip of her water, the coolness doing little to ease the complicated knot of feelings she swallowed down with it.
“The law exists not to be difficult,” he said, “but primarily because of safety. How do you think this structure will survive the conditions on Folegandros? The wind, the winter rain.”
“I’ve built plenty the same in England,” Dusty threw back. “And the weather is far worse there, believe me.”
“Why don’t you just do as Andreas suggests?” Louisa said. “The extension barely exists yet—it’s just a floor and two walls. I don’t see why you can’t make a few changes.”
“I don’t see why I should,” Dusty replied.
“This is getting us nowhere,” Skye surmised. “Surely there’s a compromise we can reach?”
“No,” Dusty and Andreas said in unison.
“See!” Mia called from her deck chair. “You do agree on one thing at least.”
Andreas pressed his lips into a thin line. Thrusting the paperwork at Dusty, he stalked past the four of them toward the house.
“See yourself out,” Dusty said in satisfaction, only to be immediately reprimanded by Louisa.
“I’ll go after him,” Skye said, turning away before any of them could argue. She caught up with Andreas as he reached the truck, putting a hand on his arm that he immediately shrugged off.
Skye stepped back, feeling stung.
“Are you OK?” she asked.
Andreas nodded curtly.
“And are we OK?”
He sighed. “I have something for you.”
“That’s not an answer.”
Andreas ignored her, moving around to the passenger side and opening the door. Skye knew what was coming, though the dismay still landed like a stone.
“I thought you were going to translate them,” she said, staring down at the bundle of letters.
Andreas rubbed a hand across his roughly stubbled jaw.
“I think it is better that you ask Theo or perhaps Cora to help with this. I am very busy. My friend has bought a bus and needs my help converting it into a pizza restaurant.”
“Oh.” Skye was taken aback by the unexpected detail. “I see.”
“éla.” He placed the small package on her upturned palm. “It is better this way.”
Was it? Better for whom? Not for her, certainly.
Skye’s mind drifted back to that evening after they’d first discovered the letters, sitting together in his truck as he’d read aloud, lost in a past he’d painted so vividly for her.
It had felt like a treasure, a portal into another time, and the thought of unpacking the mystery without him seemed wrong.
“I don’t mind waiting,” she said. “Until you do have time.”
Andreas clambered into the truck, slamming the door behind him.
His hands gripped the steering wheel, eyes locked on something far beyond her or the hillside.
The engine spluttered into life. Skye stood back, the sting of unshed tears burning her face as she watched him drive away.
It wasn’t possible to lose someone you never wanted in the first place, but somehow, that was all she could feel.
Andreas had been hers. And now he wasn’t.