Inside the holiday apartment, they dump their luggage and explore. Lottie lets a squirming Josh down onto the floor and he immediately runs into the lounge, pressing his hands and face up against the large bay window. She can hear him whispering to himself, exclaiming at all the boats moored in the harbour. A couple of paddleboarders can be seen drifting serenely along the coastline. Coloured bunting waves back at them cheerfully from the far side of the water. It looks like a picture postcard. Instagram-worthy, she thinks and wants to whip out her phone, to capture it and post it to social media with a triumphant comment: ‘Have arrived in paradise’.
Tim lets out a heavy sigh behind her.
‘It’s a bit stuffy, don’t you think? Where’s the air con?’
There is an antiquated-looking fan in the centre of the ceiling rose. He finds the switch and it begins to stir the hot, soupy air around the space.
‘Let’s just open some windows. Let in a bit of fresh air, shall we?’ says Lottie.
But as soon as she unlatches the lounge windows a crack, the sound of drilling and hammering can be heard, leaking into the room. She had hoped that all the building work would be confined to the back of the house but as she looks down, more builders can be seen working on the front garden, landscaping it with concrete and stone.
‘We can’t leave those open for long,’ says Tim. ‘Everything will be covered in dust.’
Lottie slumps onto the white sofa. Next to her is the beautiful fireplace, as advertised in the website photos. A large mirror above the mantelpiece reflects light back into the spacious room. Everything is decorated in tasteful shades of white, grey and pastel blue. Charming prints of sea birds grace the walls and an antique model sailing boat is positioned in one of the alcoves. She will have to make sure that is beyond Josh’s reach. Her gaze comes to rest on the carved marble fireplace once again. And that’s when she hears it. Or rather, she feels it.
A resounding thump reverberating from next door. As though one of the workmen has taken a mallet to the fireplace’s twin on the other side of the wall. A fine shower of dust comes down the chimney and scatters itself on the hearth. Another thump accompanies it. Then another. She looks up to see the ceiling fan shaking, as if in fear.
‘This is bloody ridiculous,’ she says, heaving herself off the sofa. ‘The website said nothing about this place being right next to a bloody building site.’
‘Bloody. Bloody. Bloody,’ she hears Josh repeating to himself as he stares out of the window. His lips and fingers have left smear marks all over the glass pane. The perfect view has become distorted already and she hasn’t even had chance to take a photo.
‘Right, that’s it. I’m going next door to speak to someone. It’s not even legal to be working at this time on a weekend, surely? And we’re sending an email to the rental owners too, Tim. I’m not having this. It’s bloody outrageous.’
2
‘Mind your step, kids,’ Olivia calls as her son and daughter follow on behind. She can tell by the slope of their shoulders, their faces, that they are not nearly as excited about this as she’d hoped they’d be.
‘All right, Mum. I think we can manage some steps, y’know,’ says her son Drew, blowing his floppy fringe away from his hot forehead. Her daughter, Bella, picks her way down the steps more carefully, mindful of her bare toes in flip-flops.
‘God, it’s a bit of a shit hole, isn’t it?’ she says as she finally catches up to them, appraising the building site and scaffolding. ‘I thought you said it was nearly finished.’
‘Language, Belle,’ admonishes Olivia softly. She has given up trying to control her daughter now she is at university but she still tries to keep up some standards. ‘You’ve just got to imagine all this will be gone and we’ll have a lovely decked area, sun loungers, fire pit. But the really exciting stuff is happening inside. We’ve knocked through a lot of the rooms and there’ll be a glorious open-plan living, dining, kitchen space.’ She feels like she’s been giving the same spiel for months now, telling everyone about the plans for the renovation. ‘You’ll love it,’ she promises. ‘Imagine the parties, the entertaining we can do. Friends down for the summer. You could invite people on holiday.’
‘No thanks, Mum. I’m already planning to do Ibiza with the girls next summer.’
Olivia feels herself deflate.
‘Oh well, we don’t have to decide right now. The main thing is we’ll have the whole of next summer to enjoy here once it’s ready. Long weekends away as soon as the weather starts to pick up next spring. And I can’t wait to come back in autumn once all the tourists have left and the kids are back to school.’
‘Mum, we are tourists,’ Drew reminds her.
‘No, we’re not. We’re homeowners. Part of the community now.’
‘Second-home owners,’ clarifies her son. ‘Part of the problem, not the solution.’
She wishes he wouldn’t be quite so high-handed with her these days. Drew has always been her favourite. Oh, she knows you’re not supposed to have them, but she’s so proud of her bright, talented son. Though, since he started his A levels and began studying politics, their views rarely seem to align any more.
Bella, on the other hand, is just like her father. Both fire signs with hair to match. When they are sitting on the sofa, red heads bent together, sharing one of their in-jokes, Olivia has felt a little left out over the years. It doesn’t help that she’s often the butt of the joke, their cruel humour. They think she’s a dippy hippy, an airhead, because she believes in more than the physical, material aspects of life.
‘Is it safe to come in, darling?’ she calls ahead to her husband, Tobias, who has marched on straight into the house. He’s been very much involved in the renovation right from the beginning, taking pride in project-managing the build in conjunction with Marcus, the architect. Speaking of which, she thinks, shouldn’t he be here by now?
She looks over her shoulder hoping to catch a glimpse of Marcus’s distinctive car and tall, muscular build clad in its usual uniform of white shirt and high-vis jacket. Instead, Tobias shouts to her from within the house before his russet head and pink-cheeked face appears in the doorway.
‘Come on then, you lot,’ he barks.
Obediently, Olivia gathers up the hem of her long white dress, silver bangles clanking around her wrists, and steps carefully through the sandy rubble and over the threshold.
The house appears to have been turned inside out since she last viewed it, all those months ago. When she and Tobias had seen it advertised for sale in a local estate agent’s window, their mouths had both watered. This was the one, she was sure of it. They had reached the end of a blissful week on holiday. Tobias and Drew had spent most of the time sailing while she and Bella had sunbathed and swum in the sea – when they weren’t pottering around the chi-chi boutiques or buying fresh fish to barbecue for supper.
