‘Oh, wow. That’s so kind of you. Won’t you come in? Please, let me make you a coffee.’
‘That would be nice, thank you.’
I lead Renee to the kitchen and pray I can get the posh coffee machine to work in front of her. I used the ground stuff this morning as I couldn’t get my head around how to work it once Elias left. I have never been very good with gadgets, so I ask if Renee would like tea or ground coffee instead. However, she points at the coffee machine and says she’d prefer one of those. I keep my back to her as I fluster around the machine, hoping she doesn’t notice, but it’s futile.
‘Lucy, can I assist you?’ she says.
‘Oh, umm, would you mind? Sorry.’
‘Oui, of course.’ I watch as Renee effortlessly pops a coffee pod in, presses a few buttons and the machine kicks into life.
‘Voilà. Would you like some too?’
‘Oh, yes, please.’ I feel terrible asking a guest to help, but she obviously knows her way around fancy machines better than I do.
We sit down at the kitchen island, which I notice is also marble-topped, like much of the villa, and I attempt to make small talk.
‘So, did the villa sell recently? Maybe we’re lucky to be the first ones to stay here.’
‘Yes, to the English couple. Your husband, no?’
‘No. I’m not married.’
‘Ah, pardon. You are partners then, my mistake.’
Renee doesn’t seem to be listening to a word I am saying. Do I tell her again that I am nothing to do with this villa? I wouldn’t want her to be confused when the real owner shows up, so I tell her once more.
‘I’m afraid I’m only here for a holiday. I don’t live here.’
‘Ah. Where’s your partner? Maybe he knows where the owner is.’
‘Hmm, indeed.’ I think of how Elias booked the villa so quickly and then begin to worry. I am getting those doubts once again. What if it is someone else’s villa, and Elias made an excuse to desert me, and the owner is suddenly going to turn up? After the misunderstanding in Monaco, I am not ready to take that chance.
I can hardly focus on the conversation as I wonder where he even got the keys from. I was tired after the journey and didn’t think about it before but now that I do, we didn’t meet anyone or go anywhere to pick up the keys. What if something fishy is going on?
‘I belong to a bridge club, you’re welcome to join me,’ says Renee.
‘Huh? Oh, yeah. That’s very kind, but I’ve never played bridge before. But, thank you. If I change my mind, I’ll let you know.’
As lovely and welcoming as Renee is, I can’t wait to be alone so that I can call Elias and ask who owns this place. He will probably have landed back in Manchester by now, and I pray I can get hold of him right away. I am not staying here a minute longer with the ambiguity of whose villa it is. How can this happen to me twice in the same country? Maybe it is because both times I have let others make the holiday plans. Perhaps it was better when I was in control after all.
‘So, it was very nice to meet you. I must go now for a yoga class. Do you like yoga?’ says Renee finally.
‘No, I’m not that bendy really. I’m a bit stiff.’
‘Then you must join yoga. It’ll help with this stiffness.’
‘I’m afraid I’m more of a Zumba person. I couldn’t possibly relax and do something that slow. I’d rather jump about. But thanks for the offer, anyway.’
I get up and lead Renee towards the door. I promise I will make up for being curt to her another time, but, right now, I have to speak to Elias. Every car that drives past and every noise I hear outside makes me jump as I consider that I could get thrown out of here at any moment. This time, if they think I’m trespassing, they may even call the police. I could get myself a record for breaking and entering posh homes at this rate.
As soon as I close the door on Renee, I rush over to my phone. The line makes a funny bleep, and then I hear the recording asking me to leave a message.
I throw down the phone in frustration. I need to get hold of Elias right away. I look out of the window as if I am a fugitive and become quite paranoid. I am not going to be able to relax until I speak to Elias.
I walk back and forth in the kitchen so many times that I fear I’ll wear out the onyx marble. I tell myself to give Elias the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps this place belongs to a friend of his. That must be what it is. Rich people always have rich friends; look at Soraya. I bet Elias does, too, even though he insists he prefers hanging around with working-class folk.
By the time my phone rings and I see Elias’s name come up on the screen, I am super relieved.
