Page 18 of The House Swap

He laughed. The sound brief, but genuine.

‘I’ll try not to,’ he promised. ‘Now go and enjoy yourself. Say hi to Keira for me.’

After she hung up, Poppy stood for a moment with the phone in her hand, looking out at the terrace and the view beyond the garden wall. The sea was just visible in the distance; a thin silver line beneath the blue sky.

She felt better for having told Tom that Keira was with her. It had started to bother her on the flight out, the weight slowly growing. But now it was gone.

She went back outside, joining Keira, and accepting the glass her friend held out to her.

‘I just spoke to Tom,’ she said.

‘And how is he?’

‘Tired. Worried about his friend. He knows you’re here.’

‘And?’

Poppy smiled. ‘He was fine about it.’

Keira looked unsurprised. ‘Of course he was. Now you can stop worrying and start to enjoy yourself.’ She raised her glass to Poppy’s in a toast. ‘Here’s to your much-needed break. And to paradise,’ she added, laughing.

Poppy lifted her glass, smiling. ‘To paradise.’

9

SUNDAY 1 NOVEMBER

The following morning, Poppy awoke to silence.

Her flat in Bexleyheath was on a main road, so she was used to constant noise, but here there was nothing as she lay still, staring up at the unfamiliar ceiling of the guest bedroom that was almost as big as her entire flat.

She was here in Crete, in Tom’s gorgeous villa. Part of her was still pinching herself, certain she was going to wake up and find it was a dream, but deep down she knew it wasn’t. This was real. And for a few moments she enjoyed the comfort of the firm mattress beneath her, savouring the blissful quiet, and she smiled.

Last night had all been about settling in. She and Keira had eaten some of the delicious food in the fridge and drank far too much wine, delighting when they had found his record collection. Poppy knew he was a huge Radiohead fan and they’d listened to all of the albums, as well as some by David Bowie and Fleetwood Mac.

Peace was shattered as a door slammed shut further down the hallway, then she heard the sound of cupboards opening and closing, the clink of china and glass, and the gurgle of what she guessed was the expensive espresso machine.

Keira must be up.

‘Coffee,’ her friend called by way of greeting.

Poppy made an effort to get out of bed, using the en suite to pee, then after washing her hands, studying her reflection in the mirror above the sink. Her copper-coloured hair was a tangle, and she finger-combed it as she studied her tired pale blue eyes and even paler skin. She definitely needed some vitamin D.

Not bothering to dress, she stepped into the hallway in her vest top and pyjama shorts.

The villa was just as impressive as she remembered and sunlight spilled through the open glass doors, casting pale rectangles across the stone floor.

Keira was in the living area, sunglasses on her head and her hair scraped back into a ponytail. The straps of her bikini top were visible beneath the cerulean-blue beach dress she wore.

‘You were up early?’ Poppy commented, spotting pastries on the kitchen counter.

‘I thought I’d go for a wander and see what was about. Just waiting for the coffee.’

As she spoke, Keira moved over to where a framed photo was on the wall.

‘Has Tom got a yacht?’ she asked, studying it.

Poppy joined her, looking at the photo. Five men on a boat, squinting into bright sunshine. Two of them holding a silver trophy. They were dressed in matching navy sailing jackets. Hair windswept, grins wide, and the sea glittering behind them.