Once she’d finished re-reading the blurb, she went to the next page and scrolled through a gallery of pictures. On the third and final page, there was a lot of information about things to do and see in and around Porto Liakáda, but as she’d thought, nowhere was there any mention of the villa’s owners, past or present. Strange. Curiously, there were no reviews either, which was surprising, considering Katerina had given the impression the villa was much sought after.
Stella could imagine the housekeeper wasn’t very good with technology or marketing, but she’d have thought the owners would be more savvy. One thing was certain: they should definitely fork out on a brand new website. The current one might have appealed to Stella, but it was distinctly amateurish and could easily put others off.
After closing down the site, she wracked her brains to try to think of another way of finding the information she was after. She tried typing in the simple question –Who owns Villa Ariadne, Porto Liakáda?– and was excited when it seemed to yield results.
There was quite a bit of information about a villa with the same name above the ancient Minoan ruins of Knossos, Crete. Of much more interest, though, was an old newspaper article about Leo Skordyles, who’d died some twenty years ago and who’d been descended from a long line of Cretan nobles.
It seemed he’d bought Villa Ariadne back in the seventies and lived there with his wife, who’d outlived him. He was a well-known character, having been mayor of Sfakia for a number of years and also a generous patron of the arts.
Although he and his wife had no children, they’d also helped set up and fund a local private English-speaking international school, which was still open today. It followed the American curriculum and its students received accreditations that enabled them to study anywhere abroad.
Intrigued, Stella read on eagerly until she reached the final paragraph, convinced she was about to discover what had happened to the villa at last. Her hopes were soon dashed, however.
After Skordyles died, it seemed his wife had continued to live there until she, too, passed away in 2010. The piece ended with a brief description of the wife’s traditional Greek Orthodox funeral, attended by ‘many local figures as well as the current mayor of Sfakia.’ It added:
She is buried beside her husband in the Argoulide Cemetery in the regional unit of Chania.
Stella frowned. Now she’d got the bit between her teeth, she wasn’t about to give up. There must be more information somewhere, even if she had to trawl through pages of dull, irrelevant documents to find it.
Her search came to an abrupt end, however, when her phone pinged. Jon. Again. She was tempted to ignore him, but couldn’t.
‘Hey!’ he said, sounding much cheerier than he’d been this morning. ‘Guess what? I’ve booked my flight. I’m arriving tomorrow at midday.’
Stella’s heart fluttered. So soon! She wondered what had prompted his sudden reversal of mood. There was a pause while the information sank in.
‘I hope that’s okay?’ he added, sensing her hesitation. ‘You haven’t changed your mind, have you?’
‘Of course not. That’s brilliant news!’
‘I’ve got a flexible ticket – I was thinking I might return at the same time as you.’
Stella swallowed. ‘Great!’
It had been her suggestion, of course, and a break was no doubt exactly what he needed. So why had her stomach clenched and her mouth gone dry?
‘I’ll meet you at the ferry,’ she offered.
At that moment, Louise, who was on a nearby lounger, sat up straight and raised her eyebrows enquiringly.
Stella held up an index finger:One moment.
‘It’s very hot here,’ she went on, returning to Jon. ‘Pack light clothes – and don’t forget sun cream.’
He wanted to hear about her trip to the village earlier and how the kids were settling in. He was clearly still at a loose end and fancied a chat. But Stella cut him short.
‘Sorry, I’ve got to go. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow.’
‘I can’t wait.’
‘What’s he on about now?’ Louise asked when the call had finally ended.
Stella swallowed again.
‘He’s going to join us tomorrow. You know he’s not working, and he sounded so down earlier. It’s not good for him to be on his own so I said he could use the empty bedroom here. I hope that’s okay. I doubt we’ll see much of him. He’ll probably take himself off on long walks and things.’
To her dismay, Louise’s eyebrows knitted together and angry red spots appeared on her cheeks.
‘You could have asked me first.’ She crossed her bare arms tightly.
