“Éla,” he said, cocking his head. “Get in.”
Tigri was stretched out in the sun when they pulled up outside. From across the hillside came the faint sound of drilling, thin behind the whistling breeze. Neither matched the thud of Skye’s heart, echoing loud in her ears. She was still tightly clasping the newspaper, its print leaving dark smudges across her skin.
“Let me help you,” Andreas said, as she struggled to get her key in the lock. Several pages fell to the ground, and she scrambled to reach them before he did, their foreheads colliding hard.
“Shit,” she muttered, hot tears stinging her eyes.
Andreas stepped back, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
“I’ll take this lot in, shall I?” Joy said, giving Skye a curious look as she retrieved the groceries.
“Sorry about your head,” Skye began. Andreas tried for a smile.
“Why are you hiding the newspaper?” he asked.
“I’m not.” Skye shoved the crumpled pages out of sight.
“Éla, you are,” he said. “But it does not matter. I have already seen it. There is another copy in the truck. I was bringing it here to show you.”
“Oh.”
“Oh,” he repeated.
“You’ve read it?” she asked.
“Nai.”
“And? What does it say?”
Joy appeared in the open doorway.
“What does what say?” she prompted.
Skye looked imploringly at Andreas.
“There is a story in the paper,” he said. “It is about this house.”
“Really?” Joy pried the pages from Skye’s fingers and began to smooth them out. “Have you read it?”
“No,” Skye snapped. “How could I? I can’t read Greek.”
Joy’s eyes widened.
“Éla,” Andreas soothed, “why are you so angry?”
“I’m not angry with you two, I’m just angry that— They’ve used my picture,” she said, jabbing an accusatory finger at the newspaper. The image was of her and Andreas in the garden, their heads bowed together, both glancing back at whoever had taken the photo. Adam, she recalled furiously. He’d been the one with a camera.
Andreas held out a hand to Joy.
“Can I?” he said.
Skye wondered if he’d been swimming. His hair and the neck of his T-shirt were damp, and he was in shorts rather than his usual jeans.
“I don’t think it’s fair that they can do that,” she went on. “Use a photo of someone without their permission.”
Andreas scrutinized the picture more closely.
“It is not such a bad photo,” he said. “I do not care.”
