‘We’re not quite sure,’ Mark replied. ‘There’s a bit of a mystery about it. An elderly woman called Katerina looks after it. She was the housekeeper here for many years, for the previous owners.
‘He was mayor of Sfakia, quite an important chap. Long since dead now and so’s his wife. They didn’t have children to pass the villa on to. It’s rumoured it was bought by a wealthy couple from Athens, but we’ve never seen them. Katerina’s responsible for the upkeep and takes care of the business side and all the rentals. She’s very particular about who stays here. She won’t have any old Tom, Dick or Harry; everyone’s carefully vetted.’
‘Gosh!’ said Cleo. ‘I’m glad I managed to make the grade.’
Mark laughed. ‘You didn’t, actually. She left the vetting to us. This is the first retreat she’s allowed here. Henrietta had quite a hard time persuading her.
‘We used to take over a big building, an old hotel, in the next-door village, but Villa Ariadne’s much nicer. The facilities really are tip-top.’
Just then the front door opened and a tall, blonde, athletic-looking woman of about forty came out to greet them: Henrietta.
‘Hello!’ she said, with a big smile. ‘I hope your journey wasn’t too arduous?’
Lesley opened her mouth to speak but Cleo jumped in first.
‘Not at all. I loved the ferry ride. And it was such a help having the men to carry our bags.’
Henrietta nodded, and said a few words in Greek to the two men with the trolleys. Then she handed them each a brown envelope, presumably filled with cash.
‘Come in!’ she said to her guests, stepping aside to let them pass. The men started to move off, but Cleo called them back to say thank you and Tash and Fran followed suit. There was nothing from Lesley, however. Cleo frowned. Another black mark against her.
‘You may as well bring your luggage,’ Henrietta commented, noticing Tash hanging back, hovering uncertainly by her rucksack. ‘I’ll show you to your rooms.’
They were soon entering a wide, open entrance hall, with a high ceiling, smooth, whitewashed walls and cool, cream-coloured marble floor tiles.
A polished dark wood table was in the very centre, on which sat a chunky, greenish-grey ceramic vase with a round bottom and narrow neck.
Curved archways led off the hall into several smaller rooms, which housed intriguing-looking objects and pieces of furniture.
Cleo’s eye was caught by a fancy chessboard on an antique wooden table. She was dying to pick up the pieces and examine them more closely, but she’d have to wait.
‘The dining room and kitchen are that way,’ Henrietta explained, pointing to another, bigger arch. Light streamed in from every window but the air was cool and reviving. ‘I’ll show you round properly later. Let’s get you settled into your rooms first.’
The four women followed their host up the wooden staircase. It was quite steep but Henrietta seemed to spring, rather than plod, despite the fact she’d kindly taken Fran’s bag and was carrying it for her.
Toned and muscular, Henrietta was dressed in tight black cycling shorts, a pink vest top and trainers. Her blonde hair was tied into two, amusing fat plaits.
Mark had offered to bring Tash’s or Cleo’s bags, but they’d refused, so he’d peeled off once they’d entered the villa.
‘See you for supper,’ he’d said cheerfully. ‘We normally eat at seven thirty but we’ve made it later tonight – eight o’clock.’
‘It’s seven thirty now,’ Lesley had grumbled. ‘There’s hardly time to shower and change.’
Not long ago she’d been complaining about being ravenous, thought Cleo. There was no pleasing some people.
Several doors led off the wide landing, and one opened when the group reached the top. Out stepped a tallish woman dressed in black, with a sleek dark bob and gold jewellery.
‘Oh!’ she said, when she saw the strangers. ‘I didn’t realise you’d arrived.’
Henrietta stepped forward and performed the introductions.
The stranger, who was called Maya, merely nodded at each of the new guests, eyeing them up and down in turn. She had a long, thin face and her complexion was so pale and smooth, she must make a habit of keeping out of the sun. Either that, or her job kept her indoors and chained to her desk.
‘When did you get here?’ Cleo asked, pretending not to be put off by Maya’s frosty manner.
‘This morning,’ came the reply. Still no smile. Then Maya turned to Henrietta. ‘I’m going to find a quiet spot in the garden to read my book.’
‘Good idea. See you at supper,’ said Henrietta.
