1
The housekeeper was older than Stella had imagined with thick grey hair poking out from under a dark-blue headscarf, knotted beneath her chin, and tanned wrinkly skin.
She looked fit, though: short, slim and wiry. She was wearing a white blouse and smart navy trousers, and brandishing a piece of paper with Stella’s name on. She gave a small polite smile when she spotted the group coming off the ferry.
‘Thank goodness,’ Stella said, stopping for a moment to wave at Katerina, before dragging her brown wheelie suitcase across the tarmac. It was ridiculously heavy; she’d packed in a rush and chucked everything in. ‘I was worried she might have forgotten about us.’
‘She’s ancient,’ said Hector nastily. He was Stella’s nineteen-year-old son.
‘Shh. Don’t be rude.’
‘What happens now?’ He knew perfectly well; Stella had told him a hundred times.
‘We walk to the villa. It’s about a mile.’
‘A mile? You’ve got to be fucking joking.’
He’d been extremely unpleasant since they left home at the crack of dawn this morning – in fact, ever since Stella had tried to lay down the law some weeks ago and insist he join them on holiday.
Of course, she’d hoped he’d come about eventually and start to enjoy himself, but he was stubborn as hell and the signs weren’t good.
Her eyes started to fill up and she realised she could easily cry. She mustn’t. Once she started, she might never stop.
‘Why can’t we drive? Haven’t they heard of cars? This place is a shithole.’
Stella’s features seemed to slide down her face and the corners of her mouth drooped. She was sick and tired of having to be strong. If he only knew how close she was to cracking…
Louise, who was just behind, came to her rescue.
‘It’ll be good to stretch our legs, Hector,’ she said briskly. ‘We’ve been sitting for so long. Look! What a stunning place!’
She gestured to the turquoise bay and painted wooden boats, the sparkling white buildings with bright-blue windows and the dry rocky mountains rising up behind them.
‘I like the fact there are no roads. You can only get here by boat, you know. It feels like a world away from London.’
Hector was about to answer back but was interrupted by laughter and they all turned to look. A group of youths were standing by the quayside, wolf whistling at the two girls trailing behind Louise’s sixteen-year-old, Will.
He had his head down, pretending not to notice, while his sister, Amelia, and Stella’s daughter, Lily, egged on the youths, flicking their long silky hair and giggling, lapping up the attention.
Louise raised her eyebrows. ‘We’ll have to keep an eye on those two minxes!’
Stella giggled, despite herself.
They were just a few short paces from Katerina now and she hurried forward to greet them. Holding out both hands, she took Stella’s in hers and squeezed tight. Her grip was remarkably sure and strong.
‘You had a good journey, I hope? You must be tired. Welcome to Porto Liakáda!’
Will and the two girls, both fourteen, wanted to stop for a drink in the town before heading for the villa. Tables and chairs were spilling out of bars with brightly coloured awnings. It all looked very tempting, but Louise was having none of it.
‘C’mon. Let’s drop our bags first, then you can explore as much as you like.’
Katerina led the way towards a flight of steep, narrow stone steps between two buildings, bounding up the first few as if she hadn’t even noticed they were there. Then she stopped suddenly, realising Stella was struggling with her heavy suitcase.
Louise, having perfected the art of capsule wardrobe packing, had a neat carry-on, while the younger ones wore trendy backpacks.
‘Here, give that to me.’ Katerina reached out to grab Stella’s luggage, but she shook her head.
‘I can manage, honestly. I shouldn’t have brought so much stuff.’
