Page 59 of The House Swap

‘So Jeremiah can’t make it tonight,’ Ian commented, his tone casual.

Both he and Sue always used Jem’s full name, Poppy had noticed. It always sounded so formal, even in their Essex accents.

‘Unfortunately not.’

‘All that boring paperwork. Probate. That word alone makes me want to have a drink.’

‘I think he was frustrated he couldn’t come.’

‘Oh, I’m sure he was.’ Ian’s tone was mild. ‘Still, we have you and we’ll make sure you have a nice night. Sue and I don’t bite.’

He winked at Poppy and laughed at his joke, and she laughed along with him, because it was the expected response. Still, a prickle of unease settled in her stomach that she couldn’t quite shake.

She told herself it was because her nerves were already frayed, irritated because not only was she getting suspicious of every little thing in Tom’s villa, now she was hearing threats in harmless comments.

Determined to relax, she tried to shake off the words, focusing on making bland conversation as the road wound upwards towards the Pritchards’ place, the incline steeper than it had looked in daylight. Olive trees lining the track, their pale leaves catching the headlights.

Jem’s place was shrouded in darkness, his car absent from the driveway, a reminder that he wasn’t there, but Sue and Ian’s villa was cosy and welcoming. Lights glowing warmly through the windows, and the outline of movement visible behind the net curtains.

As Ian pulled to a halt and Poppy got out the car, Sue flung open the front door.

‘There she is!’

Her arms were open wide, a big smile on her face, and Poppy barely had time to brace before she was enveloped in a hug that smelled of perfume and wine. After the loneliness of the last couple of days, it was a little comforting.

‘Hi, Sue. How are you?’

‘All the better for seeing you, my lovely girl.’ Sue released her from the hug, stepped back to assess her properly. ‘You look gorgeous, darling. Absolutely gorgeous. That dress really suits you. Doesn’t it suit her, Ian?’

‘It does,’ he agreed, nodding.

He focused on Poppy again for a fraction too long. Not leering exactly, but it made her conscious of her own body, her clothes, her face and hair.

Heat rose in her cheeks. ‘I brought you wine,’ she said, handing the bag with the bottles over to Sue.

‘Oh, lovely. Thank you. Come on in. Let’s get you inside and out of this breeze,’ Sue said, catching hold of her hand. ‘It’s definitely turned a little colder, don’t you think? At least the rain has held off for now. We’ve been lucky so far.’

Inside, the villa was warm to the point of being slightly stuffy, the air thick with the aroma of roasted garlic and oregano and layered with air freshener and candle wax. Music drifted through from the kitchen and, although Poppy recognised the song playing, she didn’t know the artist. Someone from the seventies, she thought. It was soft, familiar and old enough to be comforting, and it helped relax her a little.

The décor was the same cheerful chaos that she remembered from her earlier visit. The red and navy patterned rug on the tiled floor, the Union Jack cushion, the clutter of photos. Although it wasn’t to her taste, it was homey in a way that Tom’s villa wasn’t.

‘Wine?’ Ian asked, appearing beside her with a glass already poured.

‘I probably should wait for dinner. I haven’t eaten much today.’

‘Oh, don’t start that,’ Sue told her, laughing. ‘You’re on holiday, Poppy. You need to loosen up.’

Loosen up?

The words rubbed the wrong way. Was Sue suggesting she was too uptight?

Part of her wanted to say something, but the woman was beaming at her and Poppy reminded herself that she was here as a guest for dinner.

Stop being so sensitive.

She was taking offence when there was none meant.

Ian pressed the glass into her hand before she could refuse. ‘One to start,’ he urged.