The air was filled with the scent of wild thyme and sage and herds of goats, with bells round their necks, perched precariously on rocks, munching lazily on blades of grass while they watched the strangers from afar.
Occasionally, they’d break into a chorus of mournful, wavering bleats that seemed to echo round the mountain like a lament.
Before long, the group came to a tumbledown stone cottage with a rusty, vine-covered pergola outside, providing some shade. A clean white sheet and two matching pillowcases had been hung on a nearby olive tree to dry.
The brown-painted wooden shutters were open but there was no one to be seen. In fact, the only sign of life was a flock of hens in a chicken-wire pen at the side of the cottage, pecking at the dusty soil round their rickety henhouse.
‘That’s where my neighbour, Eleni Manousaki, lives,’ Katerina explained, pausing for a moment to allow the others to rest. She didn’t appear remotely tired herself.
Jessica scrutinised the cottage, rather as if it were an ancient relic. It certainlylookedlike one, Edie thought, as if it hadn’t seen a lick of paint, a new gutter or replacement roof tiles for years.
‘Do you live in Villa Ariadne – when there are no visitors, I mean?’ Jessica asked.
Katerina shook her head. ‘Oh no. It’s far too grand for me. I have a little cottage further up the mountain.’
‘Do the owners ever visit?’
Katerina took a deep breath before answering. ‘No. They are far away. I look after it for them and try to manage it in the way they would wish.’
Her reply piqued Edie’s interest and she would have liked to ask more, but the old woman seemed keen to move on.
‘We still have some way to go,’ she said, beckoning the group to follow. ‘I told you it was quite a hike.’
The donkey track curved left then right before reaching a particularly steep incline. Everyone went quiet when they spotted it, except Edie.
‘Jesus!’ she said, despairing. ‘Not another bloody precipice!’
Ralph, beside her, tutted. ‘I think someone needs to up their cardio fitness,’ he commented, with an annoying little smirk. ‘You’re out of breath.’
‘Rubbish,’ Edie retorted. ‘There’s nothing wrong with my cardio. Anyway, you can’t talk. You’re puffing like a steam train.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘And dripping in sweat.’
She was so hot and cross, the spat could easily have escalated. Luckily, though, they’d almost reached the top of the steep bit. Just ahead, they could see where the gravelly path petered out to become a rough sandy track, lined with gnarled old olive trees. And, to Edie’s joy, at the very end was a set of tall, shiny, black iron gates.
Behind them, an imposing building made of the same grey-beige stone as Eleni Manousaki’s cottage seemed to rise majestically from the land. In the centre was a rectangular tower so tall it appeared to be reaching up to touch the sky.
‘Wow!’ said Hannah, and Mac whistled.
Edie, having quite forgotten her irritation, hopped up and down on the spot like a child and Ralph smiled, amused.
‘Looks like you’ve chosen well.’
‘I hope so. Fingers crossed it’s nice inside.’
Now the finish was in sight, the group’s pace quickened. In preparation for their arrival, Katerina pulled an enormous bunch of keys from the brown leather messenger bag she wore, cross-body style, and clutched them in her fist.
Half running, half walking, she started to pull away from the others, who were hampered by their suitcases. The closer she got to the villa, the smaller she seemed in comparison. She reminded Edie of a worker ant, marching determinedly towards its colony.
Finally, on reaching the metal gates, Katerina stopped, put one of the keys in the big black lock and turned. The gates looked very heavy and Edie thought she might need some help opening them.
Before she had a chance to offer, however, Katerina swivelled round, bent almost double and used all the strength in her shoulders, back, legs and bum to force the gates apart.
‘This way,’ she said when the rest caught up, as if there’d been nothing to it. ‘Mind your feet. The ground’s a bit uneven in places.’
Once inside, they felt as if they’d entered a different world. The villa was surrounded by a wall, partially obscured by trees and greenery, which was so high, no one could possibly see over the top.
There was a wide, curved gravel courtyard and in the centre stood a set of stone steps. These led to an archway and at the end, a large, solid-looking wooden front door.
You could tell the place had been lovingly renovated. There were no cracks or gaps in the stonework or weeds poking through broken window frames. The sky-blue shutters looked freshly painted and on either side of the steps were giant terracotta pots, bursting with interesting-shaped palms and colourful blooms.
