Chapter 19
Poppy was starting to worry that she was going mad.
She had awoken Saturday morning later than usual, her mind at first going to Jem, as she thought back over the enjoyable evening they had shared. But, quickly, memories of the pool lights surfaced and how they had been switched on.
The most logical reason was that it had been her.
So why then could she not remember doing it?
The lights were on a bank of switches in the hallway. Was it possible she had flipped the wrong one by accident?
It was a weak explanation, as surely she would have noticed, but right now it was the only one she had.
She reached for her phone, wondering if Keira had been in touch, her fingers finding the surface of the bedside table empty. Frowning, she sat up, eyes widening when she saw it wasn’t there.
Alarm skittered through her. The phone was her lifeline.
Frantically, she jumped out of bed, searching through the covers and then on the floor, in case it had fallen.
It was several seconds later that she spotted it on the other table closer to the window.
What the hell was it doing there?
Her heart thudded in her chest as she moved round the bed to get it and she quickly checked it was working, half afraid she would find it dead.
When the screen lit up, relief sagged out of her.
No new messages, but at least she wasn’t cut off.
She glanced around the room now looking for anything else that might have been disturbed. There was nothing.
Still, she didn’t fully relax, unable to explain how the phone had moved position.
In the living area, she checked again – no moved cushions, no broken wine bottles, and no lights on. It added to her paranoia that she was overreacting.
Was it possible that she had picked up her phone during the night while she was asleep?
It still didn’t help explain the pool lights and she stared out at the terrace now.
In daylight, it looked innocuous. The pool catching the sun and reflecting it back, dazzling, while beyond the low wall, the breathtaking sea was a flat sweep of silver blue.
It looked deceptively calm from where she was standing, but she could hear the steady, insistent rush of waves and they were louder than yesterday.
Reminding herself this was a quiet and peaceful paradise, she tried to shake away her unease.
It was cooler today and after showering, she dressed in joggers and a long-sleeved T-shirt, and made coffee, deciding to work inside.
Sitting down at her laptop, she opened the lid.
Her focus on work immediately lost when she saw the battery symbol glaring at her.
Her mouth tightened. She had plugged it in to charge before going to bed, the cable trailing from the socket beside the TV. She slid her chair back and knelt down, reaching for the lead.
It wasn’t connected.
The plug sat a few inches away from the socket, the cable coiled loosely as if someone had unplugged it and placed it there neatly, rather than yanking it out.
Poppy sat back on her heels, staring at it, as irritation sparked. It was yet another thing she didn’t have an explanation for.
Although she had already checked, she stood and looked around the room again, worried that she had missed something else. But there was nothing.
At a loss of what to do, she plugged it back in and tried to settle down to work.
By late morning, the villa had warmed enough for her to open the patio doors and let in fresh air. The breeze threading through the trees was pleasant, though it carried a cool edge that reminded her it was no longer summer.
She had been here a week today. Already halfway through her break and she was feeling increasingly unsettled rather than relaxed.
Shit. It was Saturday. Tom’s friend was getting married. After everything he had been through this last week, she should really let him know she hoped everything went well.
Realising the relevance, she snatched up her phone, quickly messaging him.
I hope you have a fab time today. Send me pics.
He replied a few moments later with a selfie of him looking dapper in a grey suit. A grin on his face. Poppy replied:
Very handsome.
She added an emoji blowing him a kiss at the end.
She made fresh coffee and tried to settle back into her manuscript, though her mind kept wandering to different things.
It didn’t help that the villa was so quiet but in a way that wasn’t restful.
The silence seemed to press against the walls, amplifying every tiny sound.
The fridge humming, the occasional creak of the air-conditioning unit, the soft tick of the clock that hung on the kitchen wall.
She thought about Jem. The touch of his hand against her cheek and how his voice had softened when he asked if she would be okay. And Keira crept into her thoughts too. It was getting harder to ignore the quiet betrayal that her friend seemed to have abandoned her.
Poppy wanted to be understanding, and she fretted for whatever the emergency was that had caused her friend to leave so abruptly.
It was the silence that had followed which she was struggling to forgive.
She kept making excuses for it, telling herself that Keira was busy or overwhelmed, but the blankness felt deliberate.
Every so often, she would check her phone, hoping for a message, but one never came.
That wasn’t like Keira. Even in a crisis, she would have said more.
Trying to push the thoughts from her mind, she sipped at her coffee and forced her eyes back to the laptop screen, ordering her mind to refocus.
A few minutes later, her phone buzzed on the table, making her jump.
A message.
Her heart lifted sharply and she snatched it up.
Not Keira, as she hoped. It was Sue.
Poppy read the message in the woman’s chirpy voice.
Morning, lovely! Hope you’re well. Ian and I are looking forward to seeing you tomorrow night. Jem said he would pick you up. xx
She quickly typed a response.
Looking forward to it too. Is there anything you’d like me to bring? X
Just yourselves. Ian and I will take care of everything. Xx
Sounds fab. I can’t wait. x
Poppy tossed the phone back down.
It would be nice to have company and the Pritchards seemed like decent enough people, but if she was being entirely honest, she was mostly looking forward to seeing Jem again.
The sound of an engine came from outside, pulling her from her thoughts, tyres crunching against gravel before it came to a halt.
Frowning, wondering who it could be, she got up from the table and went to peer out of the front window. Immediately, she recognised Martin’s familiar white van.
She watched him climb out. The permanent frown he wore, suggesting he was deep in thought, was etched on his face and the jagged scarring that ran down his cheek was even more noticeable in the bright daylight.
He glanced at the villa briefly, then disappeared into the back of his van. When he emerged, he had a small black case, like a toolbox.
Poppy’s first instinct was irritation, and it flared hot and sharp. He had been here for hours yesterday. What had brought him back so soon?
This was supposed to be her sanctuary. Her chance to get away from everything. But she couldn’t relax when he kept showing up.
She reminded herself that this wasn’t her house. It was Tom’s. And he employed Martin to keep things running smoothly. He wasn’t doing anything wrong and it certainly wasn’t his fault that she was so cranky.
Forcing herself to move, she went to the front door, opening it when he was still halfway up the path.
‘Morning,’ she greeted him, mustering up as much cheer in her voice as possible.
‘Hello.’ His tone was slightly monotone. ‘I won’t take long.’
‘So, what’s up today?’ she asked, trying to make her question sound casual, rather than defensive.
‘Exterior light timer. It’s been playing up.’
Poppy’s stomach gave a strange little twist.
‘The lights are on a timer? Which ones?’
‘Terrace, gate, pool. All of them. The timer’s been glitching. Throwing the lights on when it shouldn’t. I’ve been waiting for a part to come in so I can fix it.’
Was this the answer to one of her mysteries?
‘That might explain some things,’ she said, mostly to herself.
Martin spared her another glance but didn’t ask her to elaborate. Instead, he gave her a terse nod, heading to the wall panel near the kitchen. He crouched down and opened it with his tools.
Poppy closed the door and followed, wondering if she should offer him a drink. She had done so yesterday, but he had turned her down. Still, it felt rude not to offer again.
‘Can I get you anything?’ she asked.
He didn’t even look up this time, focused on the fuse box with its timer controls and neatly arranged wires.
At first, she thought he hadn’t even heard her, but then he muttered, ‘I’m good.’
She watched him work in silence for a minute. Strong, slightly roughened hands, with another white scar across one knuckle. Was it connected to the one on his face? Perhaps some kind of accident? His fingers moved deftly as they removed components.
As if sensing she was behind him, he asked, ‘You all right?’
The way he asked it prickled a little.
Trying not to take offence, she went over to the table and unplugged her laptop.
Twenty per cent charge. It was enough.
‘Give me a shout if you need anything,’ she told him.
He made a barely audible grunt in response.
Poppy didn’t fancy going outside. The wind was rattling against the open patio doors and billowing the curtains. Instead, she took her phone and laptop, heading down the hallway to her bedroom, sitting cross-legged on the bed.
Although she pushed the door to for privacy, she left it open a crack so she could hear him.
She had never been good at having tradespeople in her space, finding it difficult to concentrate. And it was no different now.
The laptop was back down to 5 per cent by the time he had finished, and Poppy jumped, hearing a knock on the bedroom door, before it swung open.
She hadn’t heard his approach and quickly got off the bed.
‘Should be fine now,’ he told her, already turning to head back into the living area.
She followed after him.
‘That’s good. So the broken timer was making lights come on randomly then?’
‘Yes.’
‘But it’s fixed now?’
‘It’s meant to be.’ He bent to pick up his toolbox. ‘If the lights come on unexpectedly, tell me.’
‘Actually, they already did.’
Her mouth was dry. She hadn’t planned on talking to him about what had been happening, but the words escaped anyway.
‘It’s all little stuff,’ she said, after telling him about the broken wine bottle and the other things she had noticed.
He was watching her carefully, the expression on his face composed, though she suspected he thought she was paranoid.
Perhaps she was.
‘Well, at least I have a rational explanation for why the pool lights were on when I got back late last night.’ She laughed, trying to lighten the moment, already feeling foolish for oversharing when he didn’t say anything.
‘You were out last night?’
The question struck her as a little odd, but it was harmless enough, so she tried to shrug it off. Maybe he was just making conversation.
‘I had dinner with a friend.’
He stared at her for a fraction longer than necessary before nodding sharply. ‘Right.’
Another innocent yet odd response and Poppy didn’t know why that single syllable unsettled her.
She forced a smile. ‘Okay, well, thanks for stopping by.’
Martin started to move towards the door. At the threshold, he stopped and looked back at her.
‘Try not to leave the gate unlatched,’ he said, his tone mild.
Her stomach tightened again.
‘I didn’t.’
Martin’s eyes narrowed as if he didn’t believe her. ‘It was open when I arrived.’
‘It was definitely closed last night,’ Poppy told him, alarmed.
Had someone been in the garden overnight?
She remembered the car she and Jem had passed, partially hidden by the trees.
For a moment, she considered telling Martin about that too, but he would probably dismiss it as he had done with everything else.
‘Just try to remember,’ he gently admonished. Then, with the briefest nod, he turned and left, leaving Poppy still a little shaken by the encounter.
She knew the gate had been shut. Jem had walked her to the front door, then she had waited for him to get back in his car. She recalled hearing the distinct click of the latch as it closed.
Locking the front door, she watched from the window as Martin started his van, reversing out of the driveway.
He stopped and got out, to close the gate, briefly looking in her direction, as if knowing she was there.
Then he was back in the van and driving away, the sound of his engine fading down the track.
Poppy went back to the bedroom and grabbed her laptop, taking it through to the dining table and plugging it in to charge.
Her hands were steady, but her mind was all over the place as she tried to process everything.
She had an explanation for the pool lights, but now in its place there was the mystery of the open gate. And she still couldn’t explain the unplugged charge or her moved phone, or any of the things that had happened previously.
Poppy closed the laptop and pushed back from the table, restless again.
The villa felt different after Martin had been inside it. It wasn’t a smell or anything she could put her finger on. It just seemed as if his presence remained.
Wanting fresh air, she walked over to the patio doors and stepped outside.
The wind had dropped away, leaving the olive trees unnaturally still, and the pool lay flat and reflective. The surface unbroken beneath a sky that was impossibly blue.
Her gaze drifted towards the far corner of the terrace, where a dark smear drew her eye.
Frowning, she moved closer.
It was on the low wall near the gate. Not dirt, but not quite mud either, and it was a thin crescent shape, almost as if someone had rested their palm there briefly.
Of course, it was entirely possible it had been there before, and she was only now noticing it.
Yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that it hadn’t been there yesterday.
Try not to leave the gate unlatched.
Martin’s words came back to her and again she remembered the parked car from last night.
She glanced to the front of the villa. To the gate now closed and latched. Beyond it, the dirt track lay empty beneath the wide Cretan sky.
Nothing moved and no one was there watching. But what about at night?
What happened while she slept?
As she stepped back inside and locked the patio doors, a chill came over her.
And she had the creeping feeling that this villa was no longer a retreat.