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‘That would be me.’ She stepped forward and held out her hand, smiling uncertainly at Ajax. ‘And this is Frankie and Stella.’ She glanced behind him at the B&B. ‘Are we too early to check in?’
He laughed good-naturedly. ‘I make exception for three beautiful ladies. Come.’
He collected each of their weekend bags from where they’d dropped them in the sand and then turned and strode away towards the villa, leaving the three women to exchange speculative glances and then break into a trot to keep up behind him.
Ajax led them through the little beach bar, all whitewashed chairs and driftwood tables set with jam-jars of fuchsia-pink wildflowers. The bleached, sand-covered crazy-paved terrace lay warm and smooth beneath Winnie’s feet, changing to cool stone flags as they entered Villa Valentina’s shady, deserted reception. There was an air of faded splendour to the old mansion house, as if it might once have been home to Greek glitterati and had fallen on hard times. The peeling paint was sort of shabby chic and sort of just shabby, but the high ceilings and grand proportions kind of made up for it and let the villa get away with it. Just.
Ajax slid behind the wooden desk, reached for a huge red diary and leafed through it to today’s date. He was quick, but not fast enough for Winnie to miss the fact that the pages he flicked past were emptier than you might expect for a bookings diary.
‘OK, so it’s your lucky day!’ he announced. ‘You’ve been allocated the most splendid rooms up on the top floor.’ He tapped his pen against the page. ‘Best views in the house.’
‘Fantastic,’ Frankie said, fanning herself with her pink hat. ‘Are they ready, or do you need us to wait?’
Ajax looked slightly wrong-footed before his expression cleared to sunshine again. ‘No need to wait. Our cleaners come to work very early to make your rooms ready especially for you.’
‘Well, that’s very kind,’ Winnie said, smiling, grateful for their forethought. Already there was something about Villa Valentina that felt magical; the weight on her shoulders was a little lighter, the melancholy in her heart a little less oppressive. Even though the effects would most likely wear off as soon as they touched down back in the UK, she’d be stronger and tougher for a couple of days off from feeling like a fool.
The three women trooped up the grand central staircase behind Ajax, who skipped his way up the winding flights of steps even though he’d insisted on carrying all of their weekend bags slung over one shoulder. On the top landing he made a ceremony of studying each of them in silence for a few contemplative moments before handing out three ornate keys, as if first deciding which of the rooms best suited each of the women.
‘For you, the Seaview Suite,’ he said, pressing a key into Stella’s palm. ‘Because it is grand and has the finest view.’
He moved along the line to Frankie. ‘For you,’ he said, handing her her key. ‘The Cleopatra Rooms, because the bathtub is the deepest. You have the face of a lady who needs to relax.’
Frankie looked almost as if she might burst into tears; it had been a long time since a man had taken the time to notice how worn down she was.
Ajax stepped sideways to look at Winnie. ‘And for you, Winifred, I think the Bohemian Suite.’ He passed her an old, blackened key. ‘Many artists have chosen to stay in here over the years because of the light. I think you will especially like the paintings.’
Winnie took the key, wide-eyed, wondering if Ajax had sneakily researched them all on Google because he seemed to have taken one look at them and seen right into their hearts. He couldn’t have, not really; they’d only booked the break two days ago on a last-minute whim and none of them were prolific enough for Google to provide much in the way of interesting gossip. He must just be one of those rare beasts, a genuinely thoughtful, empathetic man. Winnie recognised that her worldview on men was more than a little off-kilter just now, but she genuinely wasn’t sure if her heart would recover enough to think more charitably about the other half of the human race. For now though, for the sake of sisterhood, she was prepared to give Ajax the benefit of the doubt.
‘Please, call me Winnie. Everyone does.’
He smiled widely, as if truly honoured. ‘Then because we’re friends now, you should come down to the bar when you have settled and I make special cocktails for special ladies. I mix just the right one to make you carefree.’
He gave them one of his little bows and then set off down the stairs two at a time, leaving them all staring at the fancy cast-iron keys in their hands.
‘Does anyone else feel a bit like Alice about to tumble down the rabbit hole?’ Frankie asked, turning the key to the Cleopatra Rooms over in her hand.
‘This is what happens when you book a last-minute break to an island you’ve never heard of,’ Stella said.
Winnie looked at her, surprised. ‘What, you end up in a mystical pink B&B with a guy who seems able to read minds?’
Stella plucked at the bottom of her Breton-stripe vest, flapping it away from her body to cool herself down. ‘You end up on the top floor of a place with no lifts. There better be a decent shower in there, I’m bloody melting.’
‘Well, I might go and take a bubble bath,’ Frankie said with a grin. ‘Seeing as I have the best one and all.’
‘And you should probably go and, er, gaze at the paintings on your walls, Win,’ Stella said, wafting her hand towards Winnie’s door.
Winnie shrugged, undeterred. ‘I love that he thinks I’m bohemian.’
‘Must have been your tattoo,’ Frankie said, slotting her key into her door.
‘Or your plaits.’ Stella pushed her key into place too as Winnie frowned at her ankle tattoo and wound one of her shoulder-length honey-blonde plaits around her finger.
‘What’s wrong with my plaits?’
‘Nothing,’ Stella laughed. ‘If you’re a Swedish milkmaid.’
‘You’re only jealous,’ Winnie sniffed, flicking her plaits over her shoulders. But she enjoyed her friends’ ribbing all the same, because, God, it felt good to relax and laugh about stupid things. Fitting her key into the lock of the Bohemian Suite, she turned, shiny-eyed, to look at the others.
‘Three, two …’ she counted down, and, on one, they all turned their keys.
Bohemian turned out to be Winnie’s idea of perfect. The stripped oak floorboards were warm beneath her feet, and the room seemed vast and airy thanks to the tall, ornate French doors, which had been opened to allow the hint of a cooling breeze to flutter the gauzy white muslin curtains. The walls had been painted deep oxblood, a rich, evocative colour that, coupled with the huge cast-iron bed, certainly conjured up bohemian. An eclectic mix of jewel-coloured cushions topped the crisp white cotton bed linen, and a huge emerald-green velvet chaise longue sat in front of ceiling-high bookcases stuffed with hundreds of books in all sizes and colours. Two glass chandeliers hung overhead, adding opulence to the already dramatic room; it was clearly a space designed for reclining, relaxing and recharging. Winnie had no clue what the other girls’ rooms were like, but she knew instinctively that this was the right one for her. Stripes of sunlight streamed through the doors and windows, and when she stepped out of the French doors, she found herself on a wide balcony set with a tiny table and chairs for two beside a 60s-style wicker hanging-egg chair to take in the glittering view over the Med.
‘Are you feeling all arty-farty yet?’
She turned and found Stella peering at her from her wraparound balcony at the far end of the villa. She’d already changed into a halter-neck polka-dot bikini top and teeny black denim shorts, and pulled her long red-gold waves back into a swishy ponytail.
Winnie laughed, delighted. ‘I think I am! How’s the Seaview Suite?’
‘I’ve really no idea why they call it that.’ Stella shrugged and rolled her eyes, flopping blissfully down onto the padded wooden steamer chair on her balcony. ‘I mean, come on.’ Ajax had been right about the view from Stella’s room; she had an uninterrupted, picture-postcard-perfect vista out over the gorgeous sugar sand and crystal sea.
Between them, Frankie wandered out onto her balcony, cool as a cucumber in a black linen shift and big Jackie O sunglasses perched on top of her bleached pixie cut.
‘Bath’s running,’ she said. ‘It might take a while, it’s practically a swimming pool.’
A peaceful, easy feeling washed over Winnie’s shoulders, warmer even than the Greek summer sunshine. Frankie would be a while yet, and Stella looked set for some serious sun-worshipping.
‘I might just test my bed out for five minutes,’ she said, lifting her hand to wave to her friends. Frankie did a tiny, crazy, happy dance out of pure contentment, and Stella lifted her hand above the balcony balustrade with an indistinct moan of happiness. Wandering back inside, Winnie momentarily paused to wonder how you might climb up onto a mattress higher than your belly button, then taking a bit of a running jump, she threw herself face-down on the bed and spontaneously laughed for the first time in months.
Ajax placed a tray of three tall, fine-stemmed fishbowl glasses on the beach-bar table in front of them an hour or so later.
‘You’ve built our expectations sky-high now, you know that, right?’ Frankie said, lifting her eyebrows at him. ‘If these cocktails don’t make us feel a million dollars we’re going to want our money back.’
‘Your first drink is always on the house anyways,’ Ajax said grandly. ‘Villa Valentina house secret mix, guaranteed to make you happy.’
‘Free drinks always make me happy,’ Stella sighed. ‘People used to give me free drinks all over town. Stella! Come in, have a glass of champagne! And another!’
‘Ah, get over yourself, superstar. This one’s still free and looks amazing.’ Frankie reached for one of the glasses and handed it to Stella.
‘What is it?’ Winnie lifted her sunnies and squinted up at Ajax hovering close by for their verdict.
He shrugged. ‘Gin and tonic.’
It wasn’t like any gin and tonic Winnie had ever seen before. Peering into the glass as she slid it towards her, she could see rich shades of honeyed nectarine red sparkling with ice and slices of rose-pink grapefruit.
‘Is this rosemary?’ Frankie asked, plucking a herb from her glass and sniffing it.
Ajax preened. ‘I grow it myself in the garden at the back of the villa.’
Frankie dunked it back into her cocktail, using it to swirl the ice cubes. All three women looked up as the guy they’d spotted earlier with Ajax wandered over and placed a platter of glistening halved figs scattered with walnuts down on their table.
‘Oh. My. God.’ Winnie groaned. ‘How good does that look? They’re the fattest figs I’ve ever seen in my life.’
‘Best in the world. I grow them myself in the garden behind the villa.’
‘I’m sensing a theme,’ Stella murmured, then took a sip of her drink and gasped. ‘Bloody hell! That’s amazing. You have to tell me how to make this before I leave.’
Ajax ignored the request, choosing instead to make introductions.
‘Ladies, this is my husband, Nikolas.’
Nikolas stuck out his hand. ‘Nik, please.’
‘Well, thank you, Nik, for this. It looks wonderful,’ Winnie said, nodding towards the plate. ‘I’m Winnie.’
The others jumped up in turn and shook his hand, and he just nodded politely and excused himself.
‘He likes actions, not words,’ Ajax sighed, watching his lover wistfully until he’d disappeared back into the villa.
‘My kind of man,’ Stella laughed, making Ajax scowl theatrically.
‘What is it that you English like to say?’ he said. ‘Not on your nelly.’
He winked and blew them a kiss before threading his way through the tables in the direction of his husband.
‘Happy couples make me want to vom right now,’ Winnie said, taking a good gulp of her drink and then almost choking on the rosemary stem.
Stella grabbed for the glass. ‘Christ, Winnie, it’s too good to splutter all over the floor!’
Frankie lifted her drink so that the sunlight shone through the liquid, bouncing pink crystal shimmers all around them.
‘Everything about this place is special,’ she said. ‘The villa, Ajax, the cocktails, that view … it’s all blissful.’
Winnie had recovered sufficiently to raise her glass and toast the others.
‘To forty-eight hours of secret recipe cocktails and uninterrupted bliss.’
Stella clinked her glass against Winnie’s. ‘I’ll drink to that. And to friendship.’
Frankie nodded solemnly and touched her glass to the others. ‘To us.’
Ajax watched the three women carefully from an upstairs window of the villa, observing the way they laughed together, how they toasted each other, that they were relaxed in each other’s company.
Maybe.
With enough of his secret cocktails and a fractured kaleidoscope of sun-gilded images laid out to seduce them, just maybe.
CHAPTER ONE (#ue42192f8-6a9b-5d8e-80f7-f8810caecec0)
‘How the shagging hell did this happen?’
Stella looked from Winnie to Frankie clustered around the breakfast bar in her screamingly cool loft apartment. They’d barely sobered up from landing back in England a few hours ago, and reality was sinking in fast. It wasn’t just their hearts that had come home lighter from Skelidos. Their bank accounts were significantly lighter too.
Winnie’s half of the profits from the sale of her beloved house, the one she’d imagined her babies would grow up in.
Stella’s handsome redundancy from Jones & Bow, a chunk of which she’d already earmarked for a world cruise.
Frankie’s nest egg, bequeathed to her by Marcia, the childless elderly neighbour she’d cared for over the last dozen years.
‘Marcia told me that she wanted me to have an adventure,’ Frankie whispered. ‘The very last time we spoke. I didn’t realise that she was leaving the house to me until the solicitor called me in, after she’d … after she’d gone.’
Her neighbour had been more of a surrogate mum, and she’d been aware of Frankie’s deep-seated unhappiness with Gavin for many years. Her gift had been the catalyst for Frankie to finally find the courage to end the marriage her parents had pressured her into as a frightened, pregnant seventeen-year-old. She and Gavin had rubbed along as best they could and the twins had grown up happy and strong as a result, but they were seventeen themselves now and they didn’t need her to wipe their noses or hold their hands when they crossed the road any more. They’d been the reason she’d stayed, and their leaving home had been the reason she’d finally left, too; the reality of living all alone with Gavin had been too much to bear. The boys had filled the silence and the space with noise and clutter: hockey sticks in the hall, muddy football boots in the porch, music too loud in their rooms. Who knew the silence they left behind would be even more deafening? Marcia’s money had allowed Frankie to rent a tiny place all of her own while she considered her next move, somewhere to lie low and lick her wounds, somewhere to spin the globe with her eyes closed and choose an adventure grand enough to warrant Marcia’s approval.
‘Looks like adventure got tired of waiting and came looking for you,’ Winnie said quietly.
All three of them stared at the large white envelope between them on the breakfast bar, and at the bunch of keys resting on top of it. They’d flown to Skelidos in the expectation of a couple of days’ hedonistic escape, and they’d flown home again with the deeds to Villa Valentina in their weekend bag beside the duty-free.
‘God knows what he put in those cocktails,’ Stella said, frowning. ‘He was more hypnotic than Derren sodding Brown.’
Winnie stared at her. ‘You don’t think he slipped us something illegal, do you?’
‘Yes,‘ Stella huffed. ‘He slipped us pipedreams and bare bronzed chests and sand between our toes. He slipped us sunshine on our shoulders and lazy, idyllic afternoons, and he slipped us long starlit evenings drinking cocktails beneath fairy lights strung between pine trees. He slipped us the idea of a perfect life, and we reached out and grabbed it in our pale English hands because we had stressed, lonely and gullible stamped on our foreheads.’
As she spoke she pointed from herself to Frankie and then finally to Winnie. Stressed, lonely and gullible.
‘Well, that’s lovely,’ Frankie frowned, wrapping her hands around her mug of steaming coffee. ‘Anyone would be lonely going from living with my kids to the silence of an empty flat.’
‘At least you got lonely. I got gullible,’ Winnie muttered, twisting the slender wedding band she still wore even though her marriage was all over bar the decree absolute.
‘Ladies, it wasn’t an insult.’ Stella shook her head. ‘We are where we are. Of course you’re lonely, Frank, you’re recovering from years of being needed by a whole bloody cul-de-sac, and Winnie, the fact that you’re still too trusting after what Knobchops did to you is a good thing, not a bad one. And me? I didn’t even have a relationship to break. I pinned years of hopes onto Jones & Bow, and I’ve been left high, dry and stressed to the eyeballs. The truth is that we’re all lonely, and we’re all stressed, and given that we’ve just gone thirds on a bed and breakfast on a Greek island I can’t even remember the name of, we’re all gullible as hell.’
They perched on Stella’s uncomfortably high designer saddle stools and stared at the keys in silence.
‘Skelidos,’ Winnie said, eventually. ‘It’s called Skelidos.’
‘The villa is pretty gorgeous, in its own elegantly shabby way,’ Frankie said, after a while.
‘And the cocktails were world class,’ Stella acknowledged.
They lapsed into silence again.
‘What else were you planning on doing this summer, anyway?’ Winnie asked, the slow tug of a smile lifting the corners of her mouth. She’d made the horrendous decision to move temporarily back home to her parents after her house sold more speedily than anticipated, and she was already heartily sick of her old curfew being unexpectedly back in place because her father liked to lock up before bed at eleven, and of going to sleep staring into the collective soulful eyes of Westlife because her mother refused to allow her to take her old posters down. She loved her parents dearly, but if she didn’t get out of there soon she’d give up, buy a cat, take up macramé and join her mother’s Catherine Cookson Monday-afternoon reading group.
Frankie looked up from her coffee thoughtfully. ‘I honestly don’t know.’
‘Well, I need a job, a man and a ticket back to normality, asap,’ Stella said.
Winnie nodded slowly. ‘Will a business, a donkey and a ticket back to an island you can’t remember the name of do in the meantime?’
