‘Laugh off compliments.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ she said, brushing past him and moving down the path towards the way back out to the beach.
‘Don’t be silly? Is that something you say to your kid?’
‘Sometimes, if she’s being silly. Which she might be, with her new friend from the pool, if I don’t get back to the hotel.’
‘Faye, wait,’ he said, catching hold of her arm.
She turned around, facing him, disarming him again with how freaking natural she was, how soft and warm yet cool and sexy…
He took a breath. ‘Listen tonight?’
‘What?’
‘We will go out. Away from Kerasia and Avlaki. Somewhere that doesn’t feel claustrophobic. Where we don’t have to breathe mosquitos.’
She was hesitating. He didn’t want her to be hesitating. Perhaps he had misread this genuine offer of a listening ear. Maybe she was just someone else who said what they thought he wanted to hear. But, then again, why was he surprised she wasn’t jumping at the chance? She knew he had had another woman in his suite last night…
‘You know what, it’s fine,’ he said fast. ‘You have Saffron and your work and I have taken up way too much of your time already.’
‘Kosta, it isn’t that I don’t want?—’
He squeezed her arm then. ‘It’s OK. Honestly. Let’s get back to the bike.’ He held up the box of beans. ‘Before these are inedible.’
36
HOTEL MARGARITÁRI, AVLAKI
I will pick you up at eight.
That’s what the message had said when Faye had first read it. And it still hadn’t changed as she looked at it for perhaps the fifth time as Saffron, making messy pesto pasta on the hob, told her all about her afternoon with her new friend, Maddie. She should reply to the message. It was presumptuous. Who sent a text like that? It wasn’t an invitation, it was a statement. And it felt controlling. She had had enough of that during her marriage…
‘Maddie has a horse. I always wanted a horse and you said no.’
‘I didn’t say no,’ Faye replied. ‘In fact, I said yes as long as you committed to getting up at 5a.m. every day to feed and muck out the horse, and to ride it regularly. I didn’t want a repeat of the guinea pig scenario.’
‘I cleaned out Smedric Shittery.’
‘Once, Saff. You cleaned him out once. He needed cleaning out at least once a week.’
‘Is that why you let him die?’
‘What?’ Faye gasped, putting her phone back down on the countertop. ‘I didn’t let him die!’
‘Dad said you left the cage open and Smedric fell out.’
‘When did he say that?’ Faye swallowed. That hadn’t been the story they had always told Saffron, the story they had both agreed to. They had told Saffron that Smedric had a heart attack in his sleep and had transcended to guinea pig nirvana without pain.
‘In Wales,’ Saffron said, flicking more pesto sauce on the worktop with her stirring. ‘He got drunk playing Monopoly with me and Nan, and you know how Heineken is like a truth serum for him.’
Faye nodded. ‘Well, perhaps he ought not to drink so much.’
‘So, you didn’t leave the cage open?’ Saffron asked.
‘Saffron, why is Dad bringing up pet deaths from the 2010s on a family holiday?’ Faye queried.
‘I told you,’ Saffron said. ‘He’s been reminiscing.’
