Skye picked up her spoon as he weaved away through the tables.
“I think it’s best if I come clean,” she said, “about the Rolex.”
Her mother closed the lid of her laptop and pushed it to one side.
“Yes,” she agreed. “I think you’d better.”
Once Skye began talking, the words spilled out more easily than she expected. She began with the watch, how she’d taken it, sold it, used the money to escape. Then, more slowly, the rest followed. The way Martyn’s small complaints had started to build. How, over time, his niggles had become demands, how she’d let them grow until they’d crowded out everything else.
“I feel as if I sleepwalked into it,” she admitted. “After Dad, I just felt so numb. The grief took over; it dulled my instincts. I knew, deep down, that there was something not quite right with Martyn, but I ignored it. I feel embarrassed, to be honest. You and Dad raised me to be independent, to have self-respect, to not put up with anyone who’d set out to do me harm.”
“Well,” her mother said quietly, “you didn’t, did you? Look where you are now.”
Skye pushed segments of orange around in her bowl.
“I suppose so,” she said. “But it shouldn’t have taken me as long as it did.”
“For what it’s worth, I think what you’ve done is very brave,” Cassandra told her, “though I still wish you’d told me.”
The taverna was growing busier. Vacationers who’d strayed from Chora, locals with newspapers tucked under their arms. At the deep bellow of a familiar Greek voice, Skye swung around, but it was only Klodi, handing over a delivery of fresh fish.
“I didn’t think I could tell you,” she said. “The few times Martyn and I argued in front of you, you always took his side. That was how it felt. I thought that if I told you about my plans to leave him, you’d convince me to stay—or worse, tip him off. I’m sorry, but I couldn’t risk that happening.”
“No,” her mother said. “It’s me who’s sorry. Sorry that you felt you couldn’t trust me, but also that you went through all this. Honestly, I could wring his bloody neck.”
Shocked laughter burst from Skye.
“Please, don’t do that,” she said. “I’m not sure I’m rich enough to fly over every month and visit you in prison.”
“Yes, well,” her mum said darkly, “violence is never the answer. Fortunately, I have something far more satisfactory in mind. I’ve been doing some research into your estranged husband this morning. As it transpires, there have been quite a few bad reviews posted online about the charter company he works for.”
Skye pushed her empty bowl aside.
“Tell me more.”
“There are a handful that mention awful food, late departures, and all the usual stuff you’d expect to see. However, this one caught my eye,” she said, pushing the laptop round. “Have a read. Tell me what you think.”
Avoid Sky High at All Costs (1 out of 5 stars)
I booked a private round trip with Sky High for myself and my family, flying from Dublin over to Cheltenham in March, and while the trip itself was smooth and the plane comfortable, we came away extremely upset.
An item of luggage belonging to my elderly mother-in-law was deemed “too large” to fit into the cabin, and the steward removed it not long before takeoff to stow in the hold. We were assured the case would be safe, though when we returned home having collected it, a number of pieces of jewelry were missing, including a rare antique diamond ring my mother-in-law inherited from her late grandmother and an emerald pendant bought as a birthday gift by my wife.
Upon complaining to the company, we were assured by the pilot himself that an extensive search would be made, though neither item was recovered. Luckily, we have a robust insurance policy, though remuneration alone cannot replace treasured heirlooms or gifts. I am not usually one to cast aspersions, though it appears clear to me that someone either working for Sky High or adjacent to the company is operating as a thief.
Skye looked at her mum.
“So someone at Sky High is stealing.”
“Indeed,” Cassandra said. “That someone being Martyn?”
“Are there any more reviews?” Skye asked. “Any that mention a watch going missing?”
“No,” her mother said thoughtfully. “Though you know what they say about smoke. And it’s odd, the way he’s being so utterly insistent about that watch in particular. You said it was an unwanted gift?”
“That’s what he told me,” Skye said. “I agree that it’s odd. But even if we’re right and he did steal the Rolex, there’s no possible way we can prove it.”
“Maybe not,” her mother said, “but we can try.”
