“You know, if you ever need to talk,” she said, “about anything, you can talk to me. I know I’ve got a gob on me the size of a croc’s, but I’m not a gossip. You can trust me.”
“Thanks,” Skye said, then, unable to think of anything better to say, she added a “Sorry.”
Joy picked up a set of tongs and made as if to pinch her with them.
“Enough of that,” she said. “I won’t mention it again. I just wanted you to know.”
Skye felt the swell of tears in her throat. The view was different from Joy’s garden, the Church of Panagía not visible, its soft, pale edges hidden behind the curve of the hillside. But there was still the sea, shimmering in the distance, and above it, a sky so blue that it barely seemed real. Not a cloud in sight, only the honeyed yolk of the sun, moving slowly west.
“Where do you want these?”
It was Mia, clutching paper plates and a fistful of cutlery.
“Oh, anywhere,” Joy said, turning a skewer. Adam and Victoria were busy setting up a makeshift bar on the patio table, while Dusty stalked around with a can of mosquito spray, ready to douse any unsuspecting insects. Joy half turned to face Skye.
“Be a darl and go get me another beer, would you?” she said. “There’s Mythos in the fridge.”
Skye went inside and found Andreas where she’d left him, adding a finishing garnish of mint leaves to his dip. Louisa was next to him, damp red hair trailing down her back, head bowed as if the two were sharing a confidence. When she noticed Skye, her cheeks flared.
“Éla.” Andreas dug a teaspoon into the tzatziki and beckoned to her. “You can be my tester.”
He made as if to hand-feed her, but Skye ducked away, assailed by a sudden image of herself, curled up and cowering.
“I can do it,” she said, taking the spoon from him. The tzatziki was tangy and fresh tasting, with a satisfactory punch of garlic.
“What is the Greek word for ‘delicious’?” she asked.
Andreas smiled broadly.
“ ‘Ypérocho,’ ” he said, looking down at the cluttered countertop. “The only problem is how much mess it makes.”
“I can clear all this away,” Louisa said. “Honestly, it’s no bother.”
Andreas hesitated.
“You are sure?”
“I’m very sure.”
Louisa, Skye mused as she edged past them to reach the fridge, couldn’t have looked more smitten. Unfortunately for her, Andreas seemed oblivious. He simply wiped his hands on a tea towel, scooped up the bowl of dip, and headed out into the garden without a backward glance.
“Do you want some help?” Skye offered as Louisa turned on the tap.
“No, don’t worry.”
“A beer?”
“Not for me.” Louisa let out a small sigh. “I don’t really drink. My mum, she was…she drank too much. It made her ill, hard to live with.”
Skye cursed inwardly. “I’m sorry,” she said. “That must have been tough.”
“I knew it would catch up with her eventually,” Louisa said, her head down, hands busy. “Dusty’s still angry with her for dying, and I think Mia’s in shock. She refuses to talk about it, even to me.”
“Losing a parent is—” Skye stopped abruptly as something untethered inside her.
“It’s why we came here,” Louisa went on, sponging yogurt off a fork. “Mum’s dream was always to live on a Greek island. She told us about Folegandros, said she’d been here a few times during her hippie heyday. When the news about this lottery appeared the day after her funeral, it felt like she was sending us a message. Ididn’t even tell the other two, I just went ahead and entered, and now, well, here we are.”
She spoke carefully, her voice strained and movements slow, all at once seeming much older than twenty-five. Grief had done that to Skye, too, wrenching her inside out. Even now, years on, it still had the power to dismantle her. No wonder Louisa was drawn to someone like Andreas—steady, capable, kind. As dependable as the steel beams he was adamant on installing in each of their homes.
