Chapter 22
They picked up their glasses and moved back inside, and Sue closed the patio doors, sliding the lock into place. The click was soft, almost inaudible, but Poppy felt it, and she didn’t know why, but the room felt smaller, almost suffocating.
‘Let me take your jacket.’ Ian’s hand was on Poppy’s arm before she could even react. ‘You won’t need that in here. Plenty warm enough.’
She would have preferred to keep the blazer with her, but she supposed he was right about the temperature.
‘Shoes off, if you don’t mind,’ Sue said as he disappeared into the hallway. ‘We prefer no shoes while we’re indoors.’
Poppy hesitated, taken by surprise. She hadn’t been asked to remove them when she’d arrived or on her previous visit.
She looked at Sue and saw her smiling expectantly. Glancing at the woman’s feet, she saw she had on slippers, which immediately made her feel bad. She should have offered to take them off when she first arrived.
‘Sorry. Of course.’
Unzipping her ankle boots now, she removed them and took them out to the front door. She put her bag down beside them, figuring she didn’t need to carry it around all night.
She hadn’t put on socks and the tiles on the floor were cold against her soles.
‘I like your nail polish,’ Sue said as she returned to the room. ‘Such pretty toes.’
‘Oh, um, thank you,’ Poppy said self-consciously, wishing she’d been allowed to keep her boots on.
‘Don’t show Ian. He’ll only start getting ideas.’
Poppy looked at her in alarm. What ideas did she mean?
Sue burst out laughing. ‘I’m only teasing you, love. The look on your face.’
It was a joke? It hadn’t felt like one.
‘Am I missing something amusing?’ Poppy jumped as Ian’s hands touched her waist, giving her a quick squeeze. ‘Excuse me, young lady,’ he said as he passed, and she realised she had been in his way.
Still, her heart thumped fast and sudden. Yes, he might be one of those tactile older blokes who thought nothing of it, but the contact lingered in her mind, more than it probably should have done.
She could see he thought nothing of it, as he was already talking to Sue, the subject changed.
‘Do you want me to set the table, love?’
‘No need,’ she told him, planting a quick, affectionate kiss on his lips. ‘I’ve already taken care of everything.’
Ian turned and smiled at Poppy. ‘She’s made saganaki for starters. She’s desperate for you to try it.’
Poppy suspected that he no idea that what he had done had been wrong. If she brought it up, things would become uncomfortable and he would likely be embarrassed.
Perhaps she should just try to forget it had happened.
She wasn’t sure how old Sue and Ian were. Late fifties, she’d thought, but maybe they were slightly older and more from a generation that didn’t think twice about things like that.
‘Right, shall we go on through?’ Sue announced, leading the way through beaded curtains into another smaller room.
The change in tone was immediate, the walls a rustic, rough-hewn stone, while dark beams lined the ceiling, making it feel even more compact.
There was only one tiny window and it was dressed in red voile curtains, and the walls were covered in a mishmash of framed prints of England – a red double-decker bus, Big Ben and Tower Bridge – and decorative plates painted in blue and white Greek patterns.
Centre stage, a heavy wooden dining table dominated the space with a bench seat on the far wall and two chairs the other side.
It was decorated with round woven placemats and a pair of lit stubby candles that sat in jars, their light dancing in shadows across the walls, making it feel warmer than it actually was.
It was certainly cosy, in a way that Sue clearly intended to feel welcoming, but with the beaded curtain closed and the only other light coming from a wall sconce that gave out a low glow, it was also a little claustrophobic.
And it didn’t help that there was very little space to move without brushing against something – or someone.
‘Take a seat,’ Sue told Poppy, following after her, so she was left no choice but to go around to the other side of the table where the bench seat was. ‘You sit tight. I’ll just go and dish up the starter. Ian, love, can you come and help me.’
As they left through the curtain, Poppy found herself briefly alone in the room, and she took a large sip of her wine, using the time to try to pull herself together.
This was Sue and Ian, who had been nothing but welcoming to her, and it was clear Sue had gone to a lot of trouble for tonight’s meal.
If Jem had been here, she wouldn’t be feeling uncomfortable. This was all connected to her worries about Tom’s villa, she was certain.
The aroma of baked cheese reached her before the Pritchards appeared through the curtain again. Between them, they were carrying three plates, and Ian had another bottle of wine in his hand.
Sue slid onto the bench seat beside Poppy, forcing her to move up, while Ian sat on the chair opposite her. The way she was positioned, Poppy felt hemmed in.
‘This is lovely, isn’t it?’ Sue said, setting the plates down, each one containing a thick rectangular slice of what looked like golden-brown pie and a wedge of lemon. ‘You haven’t had this before, have you?’ she asked.
‘No, I haven’t.’
Poppy squeezed lemon on her saganaki, then tried a bite.
‘It’s delicious,’ she said as she finished her mouthful of fried cheese, meaning it. The food was really good.
‘I like to use halloumi,’ Sue said.
‘It’s our favourite,’ Ian added, leaning over to top up Poppy’s wine glass.
The conversation as they ate was light and easy and she found herself starting to relax. This wasn’t so bad after all.
They spoke more about Sue and Ian’s time in Crete, then Ian asked Poppy about her job, as Sue cleared their plates, refusing Poppy’s offer to help.
‘Pause for just a moment,’ Sue told her. ‘Ian, can you help me serve again, love?’
Again, Poppy was left alone, and for the first time, she realised she was starting to feel a little bit tipsy. She really needed to slow down on the wine.
Easier said than done, as the first thing Ian did after the main course had been laid out was to top up her glass.
‘I really shouldn’t,’ she protested. ‘I can already feel it going to my head.’
‘Nonsense,’ he insisted, filling the glass. ‘The food will soon soak it up.’
Poppy looked at the spread on the table. The centrepiece was a fish dish. Cod baked in a rich tomato sauce, with onions, garlic and other vegetables, Sue explained. There was also a basket of crusty bread slices and a traditional Greek salad with feta cheese and black olives.
Instead of letting Poppy serve herself, Sue insisted on doing it for her, piling her plate high with food.
‘Help yourself to bread,’ she said. ‘You’ll need it to soak up the sauce.’
Poppy reached into the basket for a slice at the same time as Ian did, his hand brushing against hers, and she flinched, remembering how he had touched her earlier.
It was just an accident, she told herself, but then she made eye contact with him and he was staring directly at her, the hint of a sly smile on his face as if he was gauging her reaction.
Her skin flushed, and it was suddenly too warm in the room.
‘Carry on, love,’ Sue piped up, oblivious as she dug into the salad. ‘You were telling us about your job.’
Poppy glanced at Ian again. The smile was still there, but now it seemed encouraging rather than devious.
Had she imagined it?
She tried the cod, but although it was flavoursome, she struggled to swallow her mouthful. Reaching for her wine glass she took a gulp, glad Ian had filled it up again.
She needed to pull herself together before she embarrassed herself, reading too much into signs that simply weren’t there.
Taking a steadying breath, she forced herself to smile, aware that both Sue and Ian were looking at her. As she explained about her work as an editor, she started to relax again.
It was easy to talk about her work, though she was careful not to stray into the messy details of what had happened to make her flee England.
She had come here to forget about Simon Daley, so, instead of telling them about the accusations he had made, she had let them believe she had just been on a burn-out.
Sue listened with an expression of exaggerated sympathy, shaking her head. ‘You poor thing. You’ve obviously been working too hard and need to relax.’
‘That’s what I’m trying to do, and I really appreciate everything you’ve done tonight, Sue. The food has been lovely.’
It really had, and if there had been moments where Poppy was feeling uncomfortable, she was certain it was all in her imagination.
Jem spoke highly of the Pritchards. They had been friends with his dad, and after he had died, they had tried their best to help with everything he had told her. They were good people.
She tried to push the incidents with Ian to one side, relieved when Sue continued with mundane questions about her job.
‘So, spill the gossip. Which famous authors have you worked with?’
‘No one really famous,’ Poppy told her. ‘Some of them are successful and sell a lot of books, but they’re not household names.’
‘Tell me some. I might have heard of them.’
She reeled off half a dozen names, unsurprised when Sue shook her head, looking blank.
‘It must pay well,’ she said instead.
‘Just enough to pay the bills.’
‘And afford expensive villas,’ Ian chimed in. ‘You must have paid a pretty penny for the place you’re staying.’
‘Oh, I didn’t rent it,’ Poppy told him.
As his words sank in, she bristled a little. She didn’t appreciate his tone. It was none of his business how she spent her money.
‘You didn’t?’ Sue asked, surprised.
‘It belongs to a friend of mine. He’s letting me use it while he’s away.’
‘Really?’
Sue and Ian exchanged a look, as if to say Poppy had done well for herself.
‘Well, we did wonder,’ Sue said. ‘When Jeremiah told us you were up at the big villa on the hill, we said, how can she afford that?’