Below, the digger is whipping up a storm of dust as it continues to carve earth out of the parched ground. The commotion is enough to attract the attention of Felix, who storms out of the villa, his face puce.
‘What the fuck?’ he fumes, joining us at the edge of the terrace. His eyes bulge as he takes in the scene below. ‘Right, that’s it. I’ve had enough. I’m going down there to give them a piece of my mind.’
‘Is that a good idea?’ Dom asks.
‘I couldn’t give a flying fuck. I’ll get work stopped on that bloody eyesore if it’s the last thing I do. Look at the size of it! Villa Olympus, my arse. The man’s a fucking narcissist.’
He stalks off, his shoulders tight and his fists clenched by his side.
‘D’you want that coffee?’ I ask Dom, making to leave.
‘Are you kidding? I’m staying here to watch the fireworks. Simone!’ he yells. ‘Felix is about to lose his shit with the builders.’
She appears from the direction of the sunloungers, tying a crochet black coverall around her waist. Her lips thin when she sees her husband stride onto the site.
‘He’ll give himself a stroke if he’s not careful. The doctor’s already told him his blood pressure’s too high.’ She sounds more irritated than concerned.
Below, Felix is gesticulating angrily to a guy with a white hard hat. It must be the foreman. He’s shaking his head and pointing to his clipboard but this does nothing to appease Felix. Snatches of the one-sided conversation float up the hill.
‘…sounds like a fucking jet engine…can’t hear myself think…the whole bloody villa is shaking and don’t get me started on the dust…not supposed to start before nine…I don’t care what he says…you can tell your fucking boss I’ll have him for breach of planning consent. In the meantime, I’ll slap a noise abatement order on the lot of you. See you in court!’
‘What’s going on?’
I turn to see Willow, barefoot and still in her pyjamas, her hair mussy with sleep.
‘Your father’s throwing his weight around again,’ Simone informs her.
‘What d’you mean?’ Willow leans over the low wall, her eyes widening when she sees Felix squaring up to the beleagueredforeman. As we watch, two workmen drift over, planting themselves either side of him, arms folded, like silent sentries.
‘He’s reminding the poor man how terribly important he is. Oh, and he’s threatening to take legal action to stop the building work because it’s inconveniencing his holiday.’
Felix and the guy are now nose to nose.
‘You need to stop him!’ Willow cries. ‘He’s going to get hurt.’
‘He’s big enough and ugly enough to look after himself.’ Simone throws her husband a dismissive look, then addresses me, as if I’m the hired help. ‘Bring my coffee to the daybed, would you, Amber? No sugar. I’m sweet enough as it is.’ With that, she glides towards the loungers without a backward glance.
Anger radiates off Willow. Anger – and fear. Dominic must sense it too, because he pats her on the shoulder and says, ‘It’s OK, sweetie. I’ll go and rescue him.’
She drags her hands through her tangled hair. ‘Thanks, Dom.’
‘Be careful,’ I caution.
He grins. ‘Always.’
‘I hope Dad doesn’t do anything stupid,’ Willow says, once Dominic has gone. I look sidelong at her. She’s chewing the skin around her thumb. With her bed hair and her face free of the heavy eye make-up she was wearing last night, she looks a lot younger than her seventeen years and, even though she’s been spiky to me from the moment I arrived, I feel a stirring of sympathy towards her.
‘You know Dom. He’s the voice of reason,’ I say. ‘Your dad’ll be fine.’
Willow sucks in her breath, considering me. Her face hardens. ‘What the fuck wouldyouknow?’ she spits. ‘You shouldn’t even be here!’
15
WILLOW
God, I hate her. I hate her with every fibre of my being. If only she knew just how deep my loathing was, she’d never sleep at night. Ever again.
Simone’s such a bloody princess, and the way Dad panders to her drives me crazy.Ishould be his focus, not her. But, oh no, I rarely get a look-in, and when his attention does briefly drift towards me, it’s to pick fault with my clothes, or my exam results, or – these days – my politics.
