Chapter 24 #2
The car slowed and Poppy’s heart hammered so hard, she was sure it could be heard, even above the purr of the engine.
Was it Ian? Had he come out looking for her?
She watched as the car crept closer, tyres whispering across the tarmac.
For one horrible second, she thought it was stopping.
That the driver had spotted her. But then it carried on.
It passed slowly enough that she was able to define the shape of the vehicle, to realise that it wasn’t Ian’s car.
Then the lights were dragging brightness across the road ahead and leaving her in darkness again.
Poppy stayed where she was for several seconds, crouched in the dirt, too afraid to move, watching as the red tail-lights were swallowed by the road.
It wasn’t Ian, but it didn’t mean he wouldn’t be out looking for her.
She took a moment to gather herself. Her nerves were in shreds, and her legs trembled as she stood. Here she was in the middle of nowhere, hiding from passing cars, alone and unprotected. Far from anything familiar.
She started walking again and the further she went, the more surreal her recollection of the evening seemed, and she began to doubt herself again.
What if she did have it wrong? She was already under stress and unsure if she was reading too much into things that had happened in Tom’s villa.
She thought now of Sue’s bright smile and her over-familiarness, and Ian, so careful to stay sober.
It was the insistence, she realised. In her mind, that was what she kept returning to.
Although they had come across as kind and familiar on the surface, their actual actions seemed to leave her with less and less room to refuse.
She had wanted to call a taxi, but they had offered her a spare room; then when she said she didn’t want to stay, Ian was on hand with a lift home.
And there had been the wine too. She had tried to refuse a top-up on more than one occasion, but Ian had ignored her, reminding her she was on holiday and needed to relax.
Was it simply their hospitality or had they purposely tried to pressure her?
The memory of feeling she couldn’t say no, even though she wanted to, sat heavily in her chest.
She checked her phone again when she reached a slight rise in the road, her heart hitching when she realised she had two bars.
Now she had a signal, two missed calls from Sue popped up.
There was also a message from her. Poppy didn’t open it, but she could see from the preview on her screen that it started:
Darling, where are you? Can you please…
Ignoring it, she tried the taxi number again. As it rang, her throat tightened with hope, but then an automated Greek message answered, too fast and incomprehensible for her to understand. She hung up before the beep.
Without allowing herself time to think or talk herself out of it, she tried Jem.
Again, the phone rang, then his voicemail clicked in.
Poppy ended the call immediately, her face burning, even though no one was there to see. She couldn’t leave a message. Not like this, breathless and frightened and so unsure about what had really happened.
Eventually, after what felt like hours, the track leading up to Tom’s villa branched off from the coast road, but her relief at being back in familiar surroundings was tempered by nerves.
The Pritchards’ home wasn’t the only place that scared her, and this darker section of the hillside, with just a few villas dotted along it, all hulking white shapes set back behind gates and walls, remained forefront in her fears.
The adrenaline that had carried her from Sue and Ian’s was now ebbing, leaving her limbs weak and a throbbing ache across the back of her neck. The heel of one boot had started rubbing painfully and she could feel grit trapped between her toes.
She almost wanted to cry.
Not just because of what had happened at dinner, but everything from the last few days was culminating, making her question her judgement.
Every tiny thing was becoming a question.
Each interaction forking into possibilities.
And the worst bit, it was stripping away her confidence, making her wonder exactly what, if anything, she should be scared of.
Things had been so much easier when Keira had been here with her.
By the time she reached Tom’s gate, she was shaking again.
It stood closed, though, the latch in place, and relief loosened the knot in her stomach. At least one thing tonight was normal.
She was careful to shut it behind her, fumbling for her keys, her fingers clumsy and cold. The metal slipped in her grip a couple of times before she managed to fit it in the lock, but then she was inside, the villa dark and still.
Heaving out a breath, she locked the door behind her and flipped on a light, kicking off her boots. Her feet silently screaming in relief.
Everything looked normal. There were no lights on outside. No doors ajar. No sign that anything had happened in her absence.
She closed her eyes briefly, breathing in the familiar aroma of coffee, and the scent of clean linen, but there was still that indefinable edge of unease about the place.
Her phone buzzed in her bag and she almost screamed. Hands shaking, she dragged it out.
It was a missed call from Jem.
Before she could decide whether to return it, her phone began to ring again.
‘Hi,’ she said, answering, trying to make her voice sound normal, hating how reedy thin it sounded.
‘Poppy?’ Jem’s tone sharpened with urgency. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Yes,’ she lied.
‘Where are you?’
‘Back at the villa.’
There was a pause. ‘I’m outside.’
Something about the way he said it had her blood running cold. ‘What?’
Why was he here? Did he know about Sue and Ian? Was he a part of whatever they were?
She stared towards the door as if she might see through it.
‘Poppy, can you open the door please?’
Was she being irrational? This was Jem. Why was she even doubting him? He’d given her no reason to.
When she didn’t answer him, his tone softened. ‘Sue called me. She said you left theirs upset and that you walked home. I just want to know that you’re safe.’
For a moment, Poppy couldn’t move, but then she willed herself into action, crossing quickly to the front window and opening the blind. A car was outside and she could see Jem’s tall, familiar figure lit up in the glow of the headlights. Seeing her looking, he lifted a hand to wave to her.
Relief hit then and it was swift and dizzying.
Still, even as she rushed towards the door, unlocking it to let him in, not protesting when he wrapped her in his arms, a tiny little voice niggled.
Can you really trust him?