Chapter 21
Ian arrived to pick Poppy up just after seven.
She saw the headlights of his car first, a slow sweep across the garden that briefly brightened the front of the villa, then the crunch of gravel beneath his wheels as he turned the car around.
Picking up her bag from the kitchen counter, she slipped her phone inside, then grabbed the two bottles of wine she was taking. She hesitated for a moment, staring around the open-plan space, wondering when it had changed from feeling grand and luxurious to being cold and intimidating.
Although familiar smells clung to the air, the faint aroma of coffee and the scent of fabric conditioner, there was something else now than there had been for the last few days. She struggled to define it, but it was an aura she couldn’t quite shake.
At least she was getting out of the villa tonight, and she realised just how desperately she needed company.
Letting herself out of the front door, she stepped outside, drawing it shut and locking it. She slipped the keys in her bag and walked towards the gate, relieved to see the latch had held as she opened it. Carefully, she closed it behind her.
The breeze had picked up, combing through the nearby branches of trees and making them whisper against the night sky, and in the distance she could hear the rhythmic murmur of the sea. It sounded fiercer than normal.
Ian’s car was waiting on the track, engine running, his headlights on low beam. Seeing her approach, he leaned across the seat and pushed open the passenger door with an exaggerated flourish.
‘Hello, Poppy. Your chauffeur’s here. Hop on in.’
She smiled, climbing into the passenger seat and pulling the door closed, grateful for the familiar, clichéd tone of him.
The interior was warm and smelt of aftershave and cheap air freshener.
‘Thank you for picking me up.’
‘Don’t mention it.’ Ian set the car into gear, easing the car forward back down the dirt track road. ‘Sue’s thrilled about having you over for dinner. Well, we both are. But she’s been in the kitchen since lunchtime.’
‘She really didn’t need to go to all that effort.’
‘Oh, she wanted to. Don’t worry. She’s been in her element.’ He glanced at Poppy. ‘You look nice.’
His gaze lingered on her a moment longer than she was comfortable with, but as he turned his attention back to the road, she berated herself.
Her mind was already a paranoid mess. She was not going to start doubting the intentions of the few friends she had made in Crete. Ian Pritchard was harmless and kind, and he had just paid her a nice compliment.
Remembering her manners, she said, ‘Thank you.’
They rode in silence for a few moments, then he glanced her way again, though this time fleeting.
Had he picked up on her discomfort?
‘I hadn’t realised until Jeremiah gave me the address that you were staying in the villa on the hill. Aren’t you lonely there, all alone?’
‘It is big,’ Poppy agreed.
‘The other places on the stretch of road are all empty, I believe.’
He was just making conversation, she understood that, but still it was unsettling. A reminder of how isolated the villa was in the winter. She was already dreading returning there later tonight.
She glanced back up in the direction of the villa, seeing only darkness.
The other properties nearest to Tom’s were set further apart and she hadn’t seen any lights or sign of life in any of them.
Ian was probably right that the owners had shut them down for the winter season.
Though, there had been the parked car she and Jem had seen on Friday night. She had no idea who that belonged to.
‘So Jeremiah can’t make it tonight,’ Ian commented, his tone casual.
Both he and Sue always used Jem’s full name, Poppy had noticed. It always sounded so formal, even in their Essex accents.
‘Unfortunately not.’
‘All that boring paperwork. Probate. That word alone makes me want to have a drink.’
‘I think he was frustrated he couldn’t come.’
‘Oh, I’m sure he was.’ Ian’s tone was mild. ‘Still, we have you and we’ll make sure you have a nice night. Sue and I don’t bite.’
He winked at Poppy and laughed at his joke, and she laughed along with him, because it was the expected response. Still, a prickle of unease settled in her stomach that she couldn’t quite shake.
She told herself it was because her nerves were already frayed, irritated because not only was she getting suspicious of every little thing in Tom’s villa, now she was hearing threats in harmless comments.
Determined to relax, she tried to shake off the words, focusing on making bland conversation as the road wound upwards towards the Pritchards’ place, the incline steeper than it had looked in daylight. Olive trees lining the track, their pale leaves catching the headlights.
Jem’s place was shrouded in darkness, his car absent from the driveway, a reminder that he wasn’t there, but Sue and Ian’s villa was cosy and welcoming. Lights glowing warmly through the windows, and the outline of movement visible behind the net curtains.
As Ian pulled to a halt and Poppy got out the car, Sue flung open the front door.
‘There she is!’
Her arms were open wide, a big smile on her face, and Poppy barely had time to brace before she was enveloped in a hug that smelled of perfume and wine. After the loneliness of the last couple of days, it was a little comforting.
‘Hi, Sue. How are you?’
‘All the better for seeing you, my lovely girl.’ Sue released her from the hug, stepped back to assess her properly. ‘You look gorgeous, darling. Absolutely gorgeous. That dress really suits you. Doesn’t it suit her, Ian?’
‘It does,’ he agreed, nodding.
He focused on Poppy again for a fraction too long. Not leering exactly, but it made her conscious of her own body, her clothes, her face and hair.
Heat rose in her cheeks. ‘I brought you wine,’ she said, handing the bag with the bottles over to Sue.
‘Oh, lovely. Thank you. Come on in. Let’s get you inside and out of this breeze,’ Sue said, catching hold of her hand. ‘It’s definitely turned a little colder, don’t you think? At least the rain has held off for now. We’ve been lucky so far.’
Inside, the villa was warm to the point of being slightly stuffy, the air thick with the aroma of roasted garlic and oregano and layered with air freshener and candle wax.
Music drifted through from the kitchen and, although Poppy recognised the song playing, she didn’t know the artist. Someone from the seventies, she thought.
It was soft, familiar and old enough to be comforting, and it helped relax her a little.
The décor was the same cheerful chaos that she remembered from her earlier visit. The red and navy patterned rug on the tiled floor, the Union Jack cushion, the clutter of photos. Although it wasn’t to her taste, it was homey in a way that Tom’s villa wasn’t.
‘Wine?’ Ian asked, appearing beside her with a glass already poured.
‘I probably should wait for dinner. I haven’t eaten much today.’
‘Oh, don’t start that,’ Sue told her, laughing. ‘You’re on holiday, Poppy. You need to loosen up.’
Loosen up?
The words rubbed the wrong way. Was Sue suggesting she was too uptight?
Part of her wanted to say something, but the woman was beaming at her and Poppy reminded herself that she was here as a guest for dinner.
Stop being so sensitive.
She was taking offence when there was none meant.
Ian pressed the glass into her hand before she could refuse. ‘One to start,’ he urged.
‘Okay, thank you.’
The wine was white, the glass cold against her palm, and she took a sip. It was cold and crisp and surprisingly refreshing.
‘This is nice.’
‘Ian is a bit of a wine connoisseur,’ Sue told her. ‘Aren’t you, my darling?’
‘Well, I wouldn’t say connoisseur,’ he said modestly, slipping his arm around his wife and tugging her closer, ‘but I’ve always had an appreciation for a full body.’
He winked at Poppy as he slid his hand under Sue’s arm, trailing his palm down to rest low on her hip, his thumb idly brushing the fabric of her dress.
Poppy cringed at the innuendo. She didn’t want to think about Sue and Ian that way. They were almost old enough to be her parents.
‘Ian told me you’ve been cooking all afternoon,’ she said to Sue, keen to change the subject. ‘You really didn’t need to go to so much trouble.’
‘I didn’t mind. I’m delighted that you’re here, my love.’
‘Well, it all smells delicious.’
‘Thank you. Let’s hope you enjoy it.’ Sue laughed. ‘Come on through.’
They led her into the back garden, where fairy lights that had been strung along the high walls twinkled, casting a golden glow over the small patio and pool. Although the air was cool, it wasn’t unpleasant.
Colourful cushions and throws were scattered over the patio furniture.
‘We always have a pre-dinner drink out here first, as long as it’s not raining,’ Sue said as the three of them sat down. ‘It’s nice and sheltered, so you don’t have to worry about that nasty breeze.’
‘When we tell people back home we can still sit outside at this time of year, they don’t believe us,’ Ian added proudly.
‘It’s definitely better than the UK,’ Poppy agreed, taking another sip of her wine, as she tried to absorb the warmth of their hospitality.
She wanted to relax and enjoy herself, and she was trying, smiling and adding in comments when she was able as Sue talked, hopping from one subject to another, her Essex twang loud in the quiet night air.
Still, credit to Sue, she could be funny, and Poppy found herself laughing as she heard about the British couple down the road who’d tried to sort a summer fayre for the expats, only for half the stalls to blow away in the wind.
Then there was Ian’s attempt to fix their pool filter that ended up with him soaked to the bone and losing his temper with the pump.
While Sue talked, Ian topped up Poppy’s glass without asking.
She would nurse it, she told herself, until she’d had some food.
Although they were sheltered, she could hear that the wind had picked up. The sea was louder now, the waves thrashing somewhere unseen beyond the walls, and a chill had crept into the air, subtle but insistent.
Sue drained the rest of her drink, then rubbed her bare arms.
‘Right, indoors. It’s starting to get a bit nippy out here.’