Page 71 of The House Swap

And could she really blame him?

Poppy swore under her breath, realising she was out of options. Shoving the phone back in her bag, she knew there was only one choice. She would have to walk.

The last time she had travelled this route on foot had been in daylight. It had felt remote then, but not impossible. Now seemed very different. The road wound ahead in pale, uneven strips, the gravel washed silver by the bright light of the moon, broken only by the occasional distant streetlamp. Beyond that, darkness pooled thickly at the edges. There were no streetlights. No villas with a warm glow in the window. Just the dark expanse of the sea on one side of her and countryside on the other. There were the odd buildings. All of them shut up.

She walked quickly, despite her poor, grazed feet protesting as they rubbed awkwardly against the soles of her boots, and the brisk breeze cooling the sweat at the nape of her neck.

Every sound seemed magnified. The scrape of the gravel beneath her feet, the long, low roar of the sea. Somewhere off to her right, a small creature scuttled sharply through the undergrowth, and her heart leapt so violently she let out a yelp, scaring the life out of herself.

She kept seeing the cellar. The narrow steps, the single bulb, and Ian waiting at the bottom, his hand behind his back, while Sue pushed her forward.

We thought you might enjoy it too.

Had Sue really said that? Or had Poppy’s mind twisted the words into something darker? She thought she had, but then the moment had dissolved into panic too quickly. Now all she had was that awful certainty that if she had stayed, something bad would have happened.

She picked up pace, wincing at the pain in her feet. The stretch of road she was on was wider here, but seemed even emptier, and she was even closer to the sea. Although it was invisible in the darkness, she was aware of the dampness clinging to the air, the restless pounding drowning out the thumping beat of her heart.

A gust of wind whipped her hair across her face, and she tucked it back behind her ear. Ahead, the pale shoulder of the road curved onwards, reminding her she still had a way to go.

She pulled her phone from her bag and checked it again, but there was still no decent signal. Instead, she continued to walk, determined she mustn’t slow down.

A few minutes later, her ears pricked up at a new noise.

An engine.

It was faint at first. Little more than a vibration, barely audible above the sound of the waves, but then it grew steadily louder.

Poppy froze.

The road behind her remained dark for a second longer, then headlights swung around the bend, bright white and blinding after so much darkness.

Her stomach dropped.

Without second-guessing herself, she stepped off the road and scrambled behind the low trunk of a tree, crouching awkwardly in the scrub beneath it. Twigs and stones crunched beneath her boots as she hugged her arms across her chest, trying to make herself as small as possible.

As the headlights washed over the verge, flattening everything into stark shapes, she held her breath.

The car slowed and Poppy’s heart hammered so hard, she was sure it could be heard, even above the purr of the engine.

Was it Ian? Had he come out looking for her?

She watched as the car crept closer, tyres whispering across the tarmac. For one horrible second, she thought it was stopping. That the driver had spotted her. But then it carried on. It passed slowly enough that she was able to define the shape of the vehicle, to realise that it wasn’t Ian’s car. Then the lights were dragging brightness across the road ahead and leaving her in darkness again.

Poppy stayed where she was for several seconds, crouched in the dirt, too afraid to move, watching as the red tail-lights were swallowed by the road.

It wasn’t Ian, but it didn’t mean he wouldn’t be out looking for her.

She took a moment to gather herself. Her nerves were in shreds, and her legs trembled as she stood. Here she was in the middle of nowhere, hiding from passing cars, alone and unprotected. Far from anything familiar.

She started walking again and the further she went, the more surreal her recollection of the evening seemed, and she began to doubt herself again.

What if she did have it wrong? She was already under stress and unsure if she was reading too much into things that had happened in Tom’s villa.

She thought now of Sue’s bright smile and her over-familiarness, and Ian, so careful to stay sober. It was the insistence, she realised. In her mind, that was what she kept returning to. Although they had come across as kind and familiar on the surface, their actual actions seemed to leave her with less and less room to refuse. She had wanted to call a taxi, but they had offered her a spare room; then when she said she didn’t want to stay, Ian was on hand with a lift home. And there had been the wine too. She had tried to refuse a top-up on more than one occasion, but Ian had ignored her, reminding her she was on holiday and needed to relax.

Was it simply their hospitality or had they purposely tried to pressure her?

The memory of feeling she couldn’t say no, even though she wanted to, sat heavily in her chest.