Chapter 9
The following morning, Poppy awoke to silence.
Her flat in Bexleyheath was on a main road, so she was used to constant noise, but here there was nothing as she lay still, staring up at the unfamiliar ceiling of the guest bedroom that was almost as big as her entire flat.
She was here in Crete, in Tom’s gorgeous villa.
Part of her was still pinching herself, certain she was going to wake up and find it was a dream, but deep down she knew it wasn’t.
This was real. And for a few moments she enjoyed the comfort of the firm mattress beneath her, savouring the blissful quiet, and she smiled.
Last night had all been about settling in.
She and Keira had eaten some of the delicious food in the fridge and drank far too much wine, delighting when they had found his record collection.
Poppy knew he was a huge Radiohead fan and they’d listened to all of the albums, as well as some by David Bowie and Fleetwood Mac.
Peace was shattered as a door slammed shut further down the hallway, then she heard the sound of cupboards opening and closing, the clink of china and glass, and the gurgle of what she guessed was the expensive espresso machine.
Keira must be up.
‘Coffee,’ her friend called by way of greeting.
Poppy made an effort to get out of bed, using the en suite to pee, then after washing her hands, studying her reflection in the mirror above the sink.
Her copper-coloured hair was a tangle, and she finger-combed it as she studied her tired pale blue eyes and even paler skin. She definitely needed some vitamin D.
Not bothering to dress, she stepped into the hallway in her vest top and pyjama shorts.
The villa was just as impressive as she remembered and sunlight spilled through the open glass doors, casting pale rectangles across the stone floor.
Keira was in the living area, sunglasses on her head and her hair scraped back into a ponytail. The straps of her bikini top were visible beneath the cerulean-blue beach dress she wore.
‘You were up early?’ Poppy commented, spotting pastries on the kitchen counter.
‘I thought I’d go for a wander and see what was about. Just waiting for the coffee.’
As she spoke, Keira moved over to where a framed photo was on the wall.
‘Has Tom got a yacht?’ she asked, studying it.
Poppy joined her, looking at the photo. Five men on a boat, squinting into bright sunshine. Two of them holding a silver trophy. They were dressed in matching navy sailing jackets. Hair windswept, grins wide, and the sea glittering behind them.
‘That’s the race he won a couple of years ago,’ she said, remembering him telling her about it.
‘Is that him?’ Keira pointed to the man at the end. Dark hair, broad shoulders, easy smile. Laughing at something off camera.
Warmth spread in Poppy’s belly, and she felt a sense of pride, even though she hadn’t known him at the time. ‘Yeah, that’s Tom.’
Keira nodded, grinning. ‘I can see the appeal. Does he have any single friends?’ she joked.
‘Why? Are you planning on ditching Greg?’
‘I might. For this.’ She gestured around the villa with her arm as she crossed to the kitchen to pour the coffee. ‘I could get used to this kind of lifestyle,’ she said, holding out a mug. ‘Forget England. I’m staying here.’
Poppy laughed and took the coffee, leaning against the doorframe.
‘Give it a day and you’ll be bored,’ she said, knowing her friend only too well.
Still, she was glad Keira had come with her, despite the nagging sense she shouldn’t have.
This villa might be beyond her wildest dreams, but it was also a little intimidating being in such a big and imposing space.
If she had arrived here alone, she suspected it might have felt a little bit daunting.
‘Never,’ Keira disagreed. ‘Now drink your coffee, then go get changed. We can check out this pool.’
‘Really?’ Poppy had packed a couple of bikinis, but while the sun held a gentle warmth, she wasn’t sure it was hot enough for swimming. ‘It doesn’t look very warm,’ she added dubiously.
‘You’re not backing out on me. It will be fine once we get in.’
Those were famous last words. Still, Poppy agreed to brave it, relieved when the refreshing first shock of the water subsided as she swam a couple of lengths. It was cold, but not unbearably so, and it definitely woke her up.
Later, while chilling on the sun loungers with fresh cups of coffee plus the pastries, she realised just how relaxed she already was. The two of them sat in companionable silence, Keira engrossed in her Kindle, while Poppy checked in with her mum to let her know she had arrived safely.
She thought briefly about the edits she needed to do, deciding as it was her first day here, work could wait, and she wondered how Tom was getting on in her flat. She had sent him a brief message earlier, asking how James was, but he hadn’t yet replied. Hopefully everything was okay.
The one thing she didn’t focus on was the ugly drama that had been behind her decision to take a break. Although there had been a couple of times when Simon Daley had crept into her mind, she had tried not to give him the headspace, aware it wasn’t healthy.
This next two weeks was for recuperation, and although she would be working some of the time, she also intended to spoil herself a little. And while Keira was with her, it would be nice to perhaps dress up and go out for a meal.
‘Did you pass many tavernas when you went out earlier?’ she asked.
Keira glanced up from her Kindle. ‘There were a few, but they were all boarded up. I don’t know if that was because it was early or if they have shut for the winter. Why?’
‘I thought perhaps we could go out for dinner tonight.’
‘I like that plan.’
Poppy got to her feet. ‘I think I’ll go for a wander,’ she said. ‘See what is actually open.’
‘Do you want me to come with you?’
‘No, I’m fine. You stay and read.’
‘Okay, cool,’ Keira replied, already turning back to her book. ‘Bring back snacks if you pass any shops.’
Outside the villa, the road was quiet. A few cars drove past, but the handful of houses Poppy saw were closed up. Shutters were pulled down and gates locked.
The sun was warm on her bare arms, and a light breeze rustled through the trees. Further beyond, the sea was calm, its water a deeper blue than yesterday.
She followed the road and after ten minutes reached a built-up area.
Here she found a large hotel sitting within a huge walled complex, its shutters down and the gates locked, as well as a handful of tavernas, souvenir shops and mini-markets.
Most had handwritten signs announcing they were closed, but a couple were half open. Lights on, but no customers.
Remembering Keira’s request for snacks, she stepped into one of the mini-markets.
The owner nodded a greeting to her, before returning his attention to his phone.
Poppy browsed the aisles, selecting a mix of sweet and savoury: honey biscuits, mini-lemon cakes, packets of roasted almonds and peanuts, olives and some oversized mandarins. Certain she had enough to give Keira a decent selection, she took her armload to the counter.
‘Are you on holiday?’ the store owner asked in perfect English, as he rang up her items.
Poppy nodded, spotting four-litre packs of water stacked up next to the till and grabbing one to add to her purchases.
They still had plenty of water in the villa, but knowing it was advised not to drink it from the tap, she guessed it didn’t hurt to get some more.
‘Yes,’ she answered. ‘For the next two weeks.’
‘It’s a lot quieter here in November. Most of the tourists left last month.’
‘Quiet suits me,’ she told him, smiling. ‘Though I wouldn’t mind visiting a restaurant. Are any of them open?’
‘A few places along the front open their doors later in the week,’ the owner said as she paid.
‘But if you want somewhere for tonight, Taverna Manoli’s is really the only place.
It’s a five-minute walk along the seafront.
’ He gestured with his hand, so Poppy knew he meant in the opposite direction from where she had come from.
She thanked him, taking the bag he passed her in one hand and the water in the other.
As she stepped out of the shop, she collided with a man who was about to enter.
‘Sorry,’ they both apologised in unison, stepping back at the same time.
‘It was my fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going.’ He gave her a brief smile that quickly settled back into a brooding scowl. ‘You caught me off guard,’ he muttered. ‘This place is such a ghost town, I wasn’t expecting to see anyone else.’
British, Poppy realised instantly. And attractive too, though with hard edges.
He looked to be around her own age, maybe mid-thirties.
Tall, with dark, curly hair and a grazing of stubble on his jaw.
And he wore jeans and a faded shirt with sleeves pushed up to his forearms. Was he a tourist too or did he live locally?
‘It is really quiet,’ she agreed. ‘I have to admit, I didn’t expect everywhere to be closed up like this.’
Not necessarily a bad thing. She had wanted the peace. But seeing almost everywhere shut had surprised her. She had expected there to be a little more life.
‘So, you’re here on holiday then?’ He sounded surprised, sharp green eyes studying her curiously.
‘Does my pasty skin give me away?’ Poppy joked.
Now he laughed, the sound genuine, and this time the smile stayed put, transforming his face and softening his expression. ‘You won’t get much of a tan here at this time of year.’
‘I take it you’re not on holiday?’ And although she was only asking him the same thing back, Poppy felt a little bold.
She wasn’t used to talking to men she randomly met in the street.
Keira was the flirt – not that this was flirting, she told herself, remembering Tom.
Besides, she was the more measured one. The sensible one.
‘Not quite. I’m here to sort out a property I recently inherited.’