Chapter 7
Villa Ariadne was silent when they finally reached home, but someone had kindly left on several lights, including the ones in the kitchen.
Three plates of food, covered in cling film, were waiting for them on the work surface, as promised. Maya suggested taking them into the garden and the women sat down gratefully to eat.
Tash’s phone rang halfway through and she rose apologetically.
‘It’s Jamie,’ she said.
Cleo nodded. It was natural Tash wanted to answer when her son called. Any mum would.
Tash headed a little way down the garden and returned not long after, smiling.
‘He’s fine. His friend, Jack, is staying over with him.
My mum has been much in evidence, apparently, bearing bowls of spag bol and sausage casserole.
Actually, he sounded quite grateful. He’s always starving and he’s not exactly a keen cook.
He’d be living on takeaway pizza if it wasn’t for Granny. ’
‘You must be relieved he’s OK,’ Cleo said with feeling. ‘Did he ask about the retreat?’
‘Oh yeah.’ Tash’s eyes widened. ‘He wanted to know everything – including whether I had a six pack yet. As if.’ She raised her eyebrows.
‘He’s such a honey, though, you know?’ she went on.
‘We’ve been through so much and I know he looks out for me.
But he’s also a pretty normal teenager, thank God.
He can still be a little shit sometimes – and quite right too! ’
‘You’re obviously doing a great job,’ Cleo said fervently. ‘He sounds very special.’
Her mind drifted to Erica, who’d said in no uncertain terms she didn’t want to hear anything about her mum’s holiday. For all she knew, Cleo could be dead. Perhaps Erica wouldn’t even care.
Thank God for Danny. He wasn’t exactly a good communicator; in fact, Cleo barely heard from him when he was at uni. But at least he didn’t hate her, or blame her for the divorce, or call her greedy. He loved his dad but seemed to understand why Cleo felt she couldn’t take him back after his affair.
When the women had finished supper, they quickly washed and dried their dishes before heading straight to bed. They were tired and conscious of the fact they needed to be ready by 6.30 a.m. for a sunrise walk along the beach with Henrietta before yoga.
‘I hope I can keep going till the end of the week,’ Tash commented, hanging on to the wooden stair rail and half dragging herself up. ‘It’s a pretty challenging schedule. I reckon I’ll need to sleep for days when I’m home.’
‘I was rather hoping the exercise and clean living would give us a boost and we’d go back full of energy,’ Cleo commented, aware her own legs felt heavy and achy. ‘I certainly don’t feel remotely energetic now though.’
They said goodnight on the landing and Cleo sighed with pleasure as she sank into bed and pulled the cool, cotton sheet over her. The bed was so comfortable and the room so clean, pretty and airy, it was beginning to feel like home. She half wished she could stay here forever.
During the night, however, she had strange, disturbing dreams and woke several times with sweat on her forehead and a sense of deep unease.
In her sleep, Villa Ariadne seemed to have turned into a real, live being and Katerina was talking to it in the wide, open entrance hall when Cleo walked past.
‘Villa Ariadne knows more than people do because it’s been standing for so long,’ Katerina said in the dream when Cleo asked why she appeared to be speaking into thin air. ‘It’s seen so much down the years, more than you or I ever will. I’ve learned to interpret its wisdom.’
‘But it’s just a building, a pile of bricks,’ Cleo insisted. ‘It doesn’t have feelings or understand anything. It can’t.’
The old woman gave her a piercing look. ‘That’s what you think, but haven’t you heard it whispering in the night? Hasn’t it spoken to you, too?’
Cleo denied it, but deep down she was frightened. She had felt a certain presence here that she couldn’t explain. And she’d heard unusual mutterings, which she’d blamed on the wind.
When she woke properly at daybreak, she decided not to mention her bad night to anyone, but felt out of sorts all morning.
For the first time since she’d arrived, her breakfast tasted bland and uninteresting and during circuit training, Henrietta got on her nerves.
‘She’s so jolly and energetic all the time,’ Cleo grumbled to Tash when they stopped for a break. ‘Doesn’t she realise some of us are struggling? I’m finding the exercises really hard.’
Tash gave her friend a funny look. ‘Me too, but it’d be demotivating if she drooped round the place, complaining. I’d rather be taught by someone with a bit of enthusiasm.’
‘I suppose so,’ Cleo replied, but secretly thought that, right now, she’d sooner be anywhere but here, being pestered by an overzealous fitness instructor.
The day didn’t get any better until after lunch, when Tash suggested going down to the village for a sneaky glass of wine and some treats.
‘One drink won’t hurt. We’ve been pretty good so far. I think we deserve it.’
Cleo had been planning to catch up on some sleep by the pool, but was easily persuaded.
‘Good idea. It might put me in a better mood. The strict regime’s beginning to get me down.’
The two women took their swimming things with them and when they reached the village and spied the turquoise sea, sparkling like diamonds in the sunshine, they decided to have a dip.
The beach was relatively empty and they chose a spot about halfway down before modestly wrapping themselves in their towels, removing their clothes underneath and struggling into their bikinis.
Cleo felt a bit self-conscious about her white, winter skin, but told herself not to be silly. No one cared what she looked like, or was even watching. Besides, Tash was super-pale, too.
She bent down to spread her towel out on the sand and when she rose, her stomach flipped and started performing a series of sick-making somersaults.
Whom should she spot coming out of the water but Achilles, in a pair of pale blue swimming shorts that clung to his body and left little to the imagination?
Droplets of water shimmered on his broad shoulders and lean, brown torso. He shook his head vigorously and sent water spraying in all directions, like a garden sprinkler.
Cleo was mesmerised and aghast in equal measure. If she’d known he’d be here, she’d have kept her clothes on so he wouldn’t see her white body.
Her first thought was to run away but there was nowhere to hide and besides, he soon spotted the two women and his handsome face broke into a big smile.
‘Hey!’ he said, when he was close enough for them to hear. ‘The water’s beautiful. Are you going in?’
Cleo, lost for words, crossed and uncrossed her arms and shuffled from one foot to another.
Luckily, Tash didn’t seem to notice her friend’s sudden awkwardness.
‘We came down here for a glass of wine,’ Tash said. ‘But when we saw the sea, we couldn’t resist a swim.’
Achilles smiled again. ‘I’m not surprised. I go in pretty much every day from April through to the end of October. I call it my cold water therapy. I miss it if I don’t do it.’
He was dazzlingly gorgeous, Cleo thought, and he didn’t seem to realise, which somehow made him even more attractive.
‘I-I’ve heard cold water’s really good for you,’ she stuttered, finding her voice at last. ‘It’s supposed to boost your immune system, isn’t it? And-and reduce inflammation.’
She tried to swallow but her mouth felt dry. She was convinced he’d notice her embarrassment and realise she fancied the pants off him.
After she’d spoken, he fixed on her with dark brown eyes. Her legs wobbled and goosebumps ran up and down her spine.
‘Yes, cold water’s really beneficial,’ he replied, but his words sounded perfunctory and mechanical, as if his only real focus was on her.
‘Shall we have that drink?’ he asked, continuing to gaze at her, and her eyes widened.
Had she heard right? ‘What?’
‘I owe you one, remember,’ he explained, suddenly sounding a little nervous, too. ‘To prove there are no hard feelings after last night.’
He put his hands on his hips and grinned, and her whole body seemed to liquefy into a kind of gloopy mess.
‘That would be great, yes. Thank you,’ she managed to say, before giving Tash a pleading look: Help!
Tash gave a mischievous smile. ‘Well?’ she said, playfully pushing Cleo’s arm. ‘Give him your number, then.’
Cleo started. ‘Oh yes, of course.’
Realising he didn’t have a phone with him, she reached into her bag for a pen and scrap of paper and scribbled the number down.
‘Here,’ she said, passing it to him.
He glanced at the number before folding up the paper, placing it in his palm and wrapping his fingers tightly round it.
‘I’ll be off,’ he said, straightening. ‘I’d better let you have your swim.’
He gave Cleo one more lingering look. ‘I’ll call to arrange a time.’
‘Great,’ she repeated, scarcely able to believe what had just happened. ‘I look forward to it.’
The two women watched him walk up the beach and collect his towel and shoes from an empty sun lounger. He must have sensed their gaze, because he turned and gave one more cheery wave before disappearing into a crowd of shoppers.
‘Blimey!’ said Tash, spinning round to face her friend and winking. ‘Looks like you’ve scored.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ Cleo said with a huff. ‘He’s just being friendly.’
But she couldn’t help grinning and the smile didn’t leave her face, even when she entered the sea and dived beneath the ice-cold waves.
Afterwards, the two friends sat in a café overlooking the water, sipping white wine and nibbling on Baklava – little pastries with nuts and honey – and Loukoumades, which were like honey-drenched doughnuts.
Tash was telling Cleo about her time at drama school in London, when she briefly dated a well-known actor.
Normally, Cleo would have been all ears, but right now she was finding it hard to concentrate.