She doesn’t want to rain on India’s parade but she feels she ought to tell her friend what she overheard. Danbeseeching Julia to forgive him would be deeply upsetting if India really is crazy about him.
‘Do you think you’re falling for Dan?’ she asks.
‘No and yes,’ says India quickly. Shehasthought about this. ‘He’s utterly lovely and kind …’
Keera’s nodding.
‘And …’ India pauses. ‘I’m not a fan of leaping into bed with people straight off because I love the idea of being romanced by someone …’ She sighs. Limerence, that’s what it sounds like.
She tries to explain that she and Dan aren’t like that: the connection between them has been truthful and intense.
‘But I said to him it was no-strings. And he was fabulous,’ finishes India.
‘Sweet,’ says Keera, who hasn’t slept with anyone since before rehab and frankly can’t imagine having the desire to do so for a long time.
She smiles at India, who grins back.
‘Was that too much information?’ asks India. ‘Yes, probably. But I’m not falling in love with him,’ she adds. ‘He’s totally confused about what he wants and he’s a very straight-up sort of man; I know he’ll worry he was unfaithful to Julia by sleeping with me.’
Keera nods. Perhaps Dan has confessed to India already?
‘I thought they weren’t a thing any more?’ she asks delicately. ‘That was the whole point of his being here?’
‘Yes, except his having sex with another person on the retreat isn’t what she was hoping for either, I guess.’
‘True,’ says Keera. ‘But you’re not responsible for Dan’s actions.’
‘I did kiss him first,’ India admits.
Keera laughs loudly. ‘Go, India!’ she says.
A second taxi speeds past them as they round the curve to reach the front of the hotel.
‘Normally it’s so quiet here,’ Christos says behind them, coming up the drive with a handful of weeds.
The first taxi has clearly disgorged its passenger and is doing a laborious turn in front of the hotel.
The inhabitant of the second taxi emerges and slams the car door shut loudly. The passenger is tall, pale-skinned and has long blonde hair. She’s wearing a pale-blue fringed top with spaghetti straps, tiny white shorts and silver cowboy boots, none of which are the sort of things many people around here would wear.
With a mother as free-spirited as Sonja, India is the last person to censure any woman for wearing what she wants: there’s no age limit on clothes. Any other idea is pure misogyny.
But if India’s wearing a mini, she combines it with something contrastingly flowy. The blonde at the villa door has gone for a tight top which shows off her enviable breasts, but the skinny shorts don’t quite work, India thinks—
She stops, and gives herself an inwards shake.
It can’t be – surely not?
‘Is that … does that person look like Julia?’ she says to Keera.
Keera squints again.
They’ve seen Julia on Dan’s phone lock screen. Glossy, sexy, alluring and yet doing that blinky thing that India’s mother does when she talks about being a unicorn
person.
That version of Julia doesn’t match this version. The phone Julia looks young and unlined, while this one is a woman of Dan’s age.
‘I mean, it’s unlikely, isn’t it …?’
