Chapter 17
It was already dark when Jem’s car pulled up outside the villa.
Poppy had been ready for ten minutes, pacing the living area in bare feet, trying to quiet the restless energy in her chest. She had changed outfits twice before settling on a black-and-white patterned dress that skimmed her calves.
Not trying too hard but trying just enough.
Adding simple gold jewellery and leaving her hair to fall loose around her shoulders, she had assessed her reflection in the mirror and tried to decide what exactly she was doing.
Jem was good company. She enjoyed being around him and she would be lying to herself if she pretended the attraction wasn’t there. But attraction was one thing. Acting on it was another. And she wasn’t quite sure where that line was.
Her thoughts drifted to Tom, as they so often did.
In another version of her life, she and Tom would have had this week together.
Long evenings on the terrace, conversations that stretched past midnight, and finally putting faces and expressions to the friendship they had built since Rebecca had introduced them.
She had imagined it more than she would ever admit to anyone.
The moment of finally meeting him, of finding out whether what existed between them in messages and late-night phone calls could survive contact with reality.
But that hadn’t happened. And if she was being completely honest with herself, she didn’t actually know what Tom wanted.
Not really. He was warm and attentive, and he said things that made her chest tighten, but he had never said anything direct.
And they had never crossed the line from friendship into something more explicit.
Poppy had never pushed him. Perhaps out of fear, but partly because she wasn’t sure she was reading things correctly.
Maybe she was. Maybe she wasn’t. What she did know was that she was thirty-two years old, alone in Crete, and a man she liked had asked her to dinner. That wasn’t a betrayal. It was just life.
And she didn’t know what this thing was with Jem, but he was the one bright spot in her Cretan adventure, so he was worth making a bit of effort for, she had decided.
When she saw his headlights sweep across the whitewashed wall, her spirits lifted. After her paranoia and the rising tensions of the last couple of days, she needed this.
Although nothing else had happened, she still didn’t have an explanation for how the cushion had ended up upside down, and it continued to bother her.
Martin had stopped by earlier that morning, doing a routine check for damp before the winter season kicked in, he told her, and as he wanted to air all of the rooms for a couple of hours, opening all of the doors and windows, Poppy had taken her laptop out onto the terrace so she wasn’t in the way.
He was a man of few words, she was learning, and she didn’t like that sometimes she found him watching her. It made her feel like she wasn’t supposed to be here.
As he was packing up to leave, she’d managed to corner him for a conversation, asking if anyone else apart from him and Tom had a key for the property.
‘Is there a problem?’ He had frowned, seeming confused why she would ask.
‘No. Well… I don’t think so.’ She had felt silly voicing her concerns. ‘It’s just a couple of things seem as if they have been disturbed.’
‘How do you mean?’
He had stared at her intently as he’d waited for her to explain, and Poppy’s face had heated. She got the distinct impression that Martin didn’t suffer fools gladly.
Unwilling to give details, she’d shrugged. ‘It was probably just my imagination.’
Martin had nodded, unperturbed. ‘The cleaning staff and I have one. And you have Mr Rainer’s copy.’
‘I see.’
His tone had softened slightly. ‘Did he give you my number?’
Poppy had nodded. ‘Yes, he left me your card.’
‘Okay. Then if you have any problems while you are here, just let me know.’
It was the first time he had been almost friendly with her, and she’d relaxed a little.
After he had left, she had given herself a stern talking to, annoyed she had voiced her fears aloud. Still, at least he hadn’t treated her like she was paranoid.
Now, she slipped on her sandals and picked up her bag before letting herself out of the villa, careful to lock the front door behind her, testing the handle twice before stepping through the gate. And she made sure that too latched behind her.
Jem leaned across, then pushed open the passenger door from inside.
In the shadowy interior of the car, his features seemed sharper; the dark curls of his hair falling across his forehead and stubble grazing his jaw.
He wore a linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up and dark jeans. The look effortless, yet understated.
‘Hey,’ he greeted her, that easy smile of his appearing.
‘Hi.’
As she climbed in, she caught the scent of him – an appealing clean and aquatic smell that kick-started her senses.
‘You look nice,’ he said.
The compliment was simple, not overdone, and heat bloomed in Poppy’s cheeks.
‘Thank you.’ She paused before adding with a smile, ‘So do you.’
Jem grinned at her before pulling away from the kerb, the tyres crunching lightly on gravel before joining the coastal road. To their left, the sea thrashed restlessly in the evening wind.
Realising that they were heading in the opposite direction to the village centre, Poppy frowned.
‘Are we going somewhere different?’ she asked.
‘Do you fancy going to Analipsi? There’s a taverna there that’s open at the weekends. It’s nicer than Manoli’s. Quieter, no laminated menus, and it’s family-run. Plus, the food is really good.’
She laughed. ‘You had me at no laminated menus.’
There was nothing wrong with Manoli’s, but it would be nice to go somewhere different instead of returning to the same taverna.
It was still playing on her mind that Jem had known the address for Tom’s villa, but he had only just picked her up. She would wait until they were in the restaurant, she decided, and she would try to slot the question into conversation over dinner.
‘So, how do you know about this restaurant?’ she asked instead.
‘The lawyer I used for all the inheritance paperwork is based in Analipsi. I ate there a couple of times.’ He glanced briefly in her direction before returning his attention to the road.
‘I should have taken you there earlier, when it was still light. It’s a pretty village.
A little more traditional than Gouves. I think you’ll like it. ’
‘It sounds perfect,’ Poppy agreed, meaning it.
The car windows were cracked open just enough to let in the fresh scent of the sea, and she fell silent, letting the tension of the last few days drain from her body.
Out of season, the road was quiet. There were a few scattered headlights in the distance, but the majority of the hotels and tavernas they passed were closed, some of them with shutters down and chairs stacked neatly outside.
‘You okay?’ Jem asked, his tone casual.
‘Yeah.’ She turned to smile at him. ‘This is nice. It’s been a little lonely without Keira.’
He nodded. Silent for a moment.
‘Have you heard any more from her?’ he asked.
‘I sent her another message, asking her to let me know everyone was okay. She took ages to read it again, and when she did, she didn’t reply. She just hearted it.’
Jem frowned. ‘That’s a bit odd.’
‘Yes,’ Poppy agreed, her chest tightening. It was odd, but that word felt insufficient. Unsettling, perhaps? ‘It’s so out of character for her. She knows I’ll be worrying.’
Jem reached across the console and briefly squeezed her hand. The contact was warm, grounding and unexpected.
Aware that thoughts of Keira would have her sinking into melancholy, she made the effort to change the subject, asking Jem about his day.
‘It’s been very dull. I’ve been doing trips back and forth to the recycling yard,’ he told her. ‘You wouldn’t believe the amount of crap my dad collected. There’s still loads to go through.’
‘Has it been difficult for you?’ Poppy said softly.
He nodded, before seeming to change his mind. ‘More strange, I guess. Going through someone’s things after they’ve gone, you realise just how little you really knew them. Which I know might sound odd as we didn’t speak for a lot of years, but he was still my dad.’
His expression tightened slightly with an unreadable emotion that Poppy picked up on straight away, even in the shadowy interior of the car. Not grief exactly and not anger.
Regret, perhaps?
Seeming to realise he was souring the mood, he made an effort to lighten it, and he was midway through telling her about the random goat that had been wandering around loose at the recycling yard, when Poppy felt the toe of her sandal bumping against something in the footwell.
She leant forward to pick up a plastic case.
A Genesis album, she realised.
Jem glanced across, spotting it. ‘Just stick that back in the glovebox.’
She went to do as asked, opening it to find the whole compartment was full of CDs.
Curious, she started going through the titles, amused at Jem’s music collection.
‘REO Speedwagon, Celine Dion, Kenny G,’ she teased. ‘Oh, we have a winner.’
‘You know none of those are mine.’ He grinned as she held up a Chris de Burgh cover. ‘This was my dad’s car.’
‘I’m relieved to hear it,’ she said as she continued to browse. Finding another cringe classic, she took a Leo Sayer disc from the case, pushing it into the player.
‘Really?’ Jem scrunched up his nose, as ‘Thunder in My Heart’ started playing and Poppy cranked up the volume, dramatically singing the opening verse.
He burst out laughing as she ignored him, not attempting to hide how out of tune she was.
‘I think we might have to stop and have a bonfire for these,’ he joked.
‘Oh no. I think you need to keep all of them. Maybe we can have a party night. I bet Sue likes a bit of Barry Manilow,’ she said, holding up another CD.