‘Of course I’ve called him,’ Ollie spits. ‘He’s not answering. I can’t reach his parents, either.’
‘Where do you think he would have gone?’
Ollie draws a blank.
‘Come on, Ollie, we have to find him,’ Will says. ‘There’s no use moping around.’
‘What’s the point? He’s done with me.’
‘No, I won’t accept it.’ Will reaches for his phone, tapping his screen. His thumbs dart up and down, his eyes burning with focus. ‘I’ve just messaged him.’ Before any of us can say anything, Will places the phone to his ear. After a few moments, he swears. ‘Not answering. Don’t you have him onFindMyor anything?’
‘Never felt the need,’ Ollie says.
I glance at the Parthenon, imagining the wedding that is only days away.
‘We’ll find him, Ol,’ Will says. ‘This isn’t over yet.’
Chapter Fifty-Eight
WILL
Day Twenty-One
Ollie spends the night, lying on my hotel floor, refusing to share the large double bed I have. Sam didn’t mind him staying, but as we leave the hotel the next morning, and greet Sam in the waiting car outside, he asks how it went.
‘He sat in silence most of the night,’ I whisper. ‘Couldn’t get much out of him.’
Alec is MIA. We leave Athens, heading out of the city and into the countryside, where Alec’s parents live. ‘If they’re going to refuse to talk to you, we’ll make them talk,’ I say to Ollie.
I refuse to let this all fall apart. Part of me frets I’m responsible for whatever is going on, at least in some part. Another part argues that I can’t be responsible for Ollie anymore. That that ship has sailed.
‘Turn right here,’ Ollie mumbles.
We drive up a dirt track, powdered dust billowing around the car as the tyres disturb the rocky terrain. We pass rows of growing vines, and I turn to Ollie. ‘I thought they closed the business?’
‘They have, but they still have it. They lease it to another company now,’ Ollie explains dully.
A house comes in to view ahead, all medieval-looking. Beige walls that look close to crumbling, more greenery growing up the sides. The house looks crooked and old, terracotta tiles on the roof, and a whole garden of potted tropical plants that stir up an envy inside of me. The driveway is one of those ones where you drive around a water fountain, its own mini roundabout traffic system. A glistening red G-Wagon is parked across from three steps leading to an empty veranda, and a set of double doors.
‘I always knew you’d marry well,’ I say glibly, but realise it’s not the time. This is verySaltburn.
Heading to the door, I feel as though Dobermanns will be set on us at any moment. Maybe gunfire from an angry groundskeeper. I find the button for the bell and ring, hearing a distant shrill somewhere inside.
‘Go away,’ a voice calls.
‘Alec? Is that you?’ Ollie yells, stepping back, scanning the house.
‘Ollie?’
From a Juliet balcony above, Alec appears, wrapped in a rather fetching kimono.
‘Alec, please! We need to talk.’
Sam crosses his arms, looking up.
‘I don’t want to talk,’ Alec calls out, and I stomp over to Ollie, joining him. Alec looks down, shaking his head. ‘Hi, Will. Surprising seeing you here.’
His tone suggests otherwise.
