Page 32 of The House Swap

Her mind kept circling back.

He didn’t ask where we lived.

Poppy grabbed her bag and keys.

She would pick up breakfast, she decided. Maybe the walk down to the seafront would clear her head.

Despite the early hour, the village was quiet but not empty. A delivery van was parked outside the mini-market and the same man stood behind the counter.

He nodded a greeting to her. ‘Early start for you.’

‘Lots to do,’ she told him, managing a smile.

She took her time over her selections, picking up pastries, fresh fruit and salad, yoghurt, cheese and a loaf of bread.

It was here she had first bumped into Jem, she remembered, as she paid and left the store. A random encounter that had led to a budding friendship. One she was now doubting the sincerity of, simply because she couldn’t explain it.

Which was absolutely ridiculous, as Jem had done nothing to deserve her distrust.

She took her phone out and started to type a message to him.

About last night. How did you know where we lived?

She frowned at the screen, realising the question made her sound paranoid. Deleting the words, she locked the phone and slipped it back into her bag.

Keira would be up when she got back. Poppy would ask her, and if Keira hadn’t said anything, then perhaps she would casually bring it up in conversation when she had dinner with Jem on Friday.

There would be a reasonable explanation. There had to be.

The walk home felt longer than before. Probably because it was on a slight incline.

Clouds drifted across the sun and the road lay empty ahead of her. When the villa came into view, she slowed slightly, not consciously meaning to.

The gate was ajar.

Poppy frowned. Had she closed it properly after her? She was sure she had.

It was probably just the wind. Unless Keira had been outside too.

She pushed it open and stepped into the garden, taking care to make sure it definitely clicked behind her.

Inside the villa, there was no sign of Keira. She expected to hear movement: the kettle, the shower, music from her phone. But the house was still. The patio doors were locked and there was only the one coffee mug that Poppy had used sitting on the kitchen counter.

She surely wasn’t still in bed.

‘Keira?’

There was no answer.

Poppy moved through the villa, heading into the hallway that led to the bedrooms.

‘Keira? Where are you?’ she called again, louder this time.

Maybe she had gone for a walk.

Her bedroom door was still shut. Poppy knocked lightly, then when there wasn’t an answer, she gently pushed it open, stepping inside. There was no sign of her friend and the room looked unused.

Unease crept in.