Page 20 of The House Swap

‘Are you on holiday?’ the store owner asked in perfect English, as he rang up her items.

Poppy nodded, spotting four-litre packs of water stacked up next to the till and grabbing one to add to her purchases. They still had plenty of water in the villa, but knowing it was advised not to drink it from the tap, she guessed it didn’t hurt to get some more. ‘Yes,’ she answered. ‘For the next two weeks.’

‘It’s a lot quieter here in November. Most of the tourists left last month.’

‘Quiet suits me,’ she told him, smiling. ‘Though I wouldn’t mind visiting a restaurant. Are any of them open?’

‘A few places along the front open their doors later in the week,’ the owner said as she paid. ‘But if you want somewhere for tonight, Taverna Manoli’s is really the only place. It’s a five-minute walk along the seafront.’ He gestured with his hand, so Poppy knew he meant in the opposite direction from where she had come from.

She thanked him, taking the bag he passed her in one hand and the water in the other.

As she stepped out of the shop, she collided with a man who was about to enter.

‘Sorry,’ they both apologised in unison, stepping back at the same time.

‘It was my fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going.’ He gave her a brief smile that quickly settled back into a brooding scowl. ‘You caught me off guard,’ he muttered. ‘This place is such a ghost town, I wasn’t expecting to see anyone else.’

British, Poppy realised instantly. And attractive too, though with hard edges. He looked to be around her own age, maybe mid-thirties. Tall, with dark, curly hair and a grazing of stubble on his jaw. And he wore jeans and a faded shirt with sleeves pushed up to his forearms. Was he a tourist too or did he live locally?

‘It is really quiet,’ she agreed. ‘I have to admit, I didn’t expect everywhere to be closed up like this.’

Not necessarily a bad thing. She had wanted the peace. But seeing almost everywhere shut had surprised her. She had expected there to be a little more life.

‘So, you’re here on holiday then?’ He sounded surprised, sharp green eyes studying her curiously.

‘Does my pasty skin give me away?’ Poppy joked.

Now he laughed, the sound genuine, and this time the smile stayed put, transforming his face and softening his expression. ‘You won’t get much of a tan here at this time of year.’

‘I take it you’re not on holiday?’ And although she was only asking him the same thing back, Poppy felt a little bold. She wasn’t used to talking to men she randomly met in the street. Keira was the flirt – not that this was flirting, she told herself, remembering Tom. Besides, she was the more measured one. The sensible one.

‘Not quite. I’m here to sort out a property I recently inherited.’

Now those green eyes looked sad, the smile weakening again, and briefly Poppy was lost for what to say next. Inherited suggested he had lost someone – probably a parent – but she didn’t want to assume and offer condolences, especially when she didn’t even know him.

Luckily, he was quick to cover the silence.

‘It currently has an empty fridge, hence the trip for emergency supplies. I don’t want to starve.’

‘No, definitely not.’ Poppy hesitated, deciding to push her new boldness. ‘Apparently, there is one restaurant that is open tonight. Taverna Manoli’s. My friend and I might check it out later. If you get bored and fancy some company,’ she added, trying to sound as casual as possible.

Interest sparked now, as he seemed to really study her. He nodded. ‘I’ll keep it in mind.’

Stepping back to let her pass seemed to be his way of signalling that the exchange was over and although she smiled and thanked him, Poppy’s cheeks flamed as he disappeared into the shop. He hadn’t asked her name or offered his, and there had been no attempt to get her number. Perhaps he didn’t like how forthright she had been. Maybe he thought she was always like this.

And why had she even mentioned the taverna? She didn’t know him, and yes, he was attractive, but she wasn’t looking to start anything. Yes, she was a free agent. But even so, Tom was never far from her thoughts.

As she headed back, the plastic handle of the heavy water bottles cutting into her palm, she tried to brush off the encounter, determined not to let it knock her confidence.

By the time she neared the villa, her arm felt like it was about to pull out of the socket and she was ruing her decision to buy the water. Next time, she decided, she would get a taxi and buy in bulk. Plodding forward, a light sheen of sweat on her skin, despite the mildness of the sun, she reached the gate, stopping abruptly.

It was open. And why was there a white van parked in the driveway?

Poppy’s stomach tightened and she stepped forward slowly.

The side of the van revealed lettering. Martin Roe Maintenance.

She wandered round to the back of the house, where two people were on the terrace: a man who looked to be in his forties, stocky, his dark hair flecked with grey, and a woman in a navy uniform, bent over one of the sun loungers. Tom’s place already looked immaculate. She wasn’t sure what there was left for them to do.