Page 49 of The House Swap

So who the hell had?

18

I wait until the villa goes quiet before I let myself back inside.

The light in her bedroom stays on longer than usual tonight. A thin strip of gold beneath the door. She moves around for a while and I hear the soft thud of drawers opening and closing, the sound of water in the pipes, then, finally, stillness.

Even though everywhere is now shrouded in darkness, I remain in the living room, waiting. I need her to fall asleep. Anticipation must not be my downfall.

Eventually, when enough time has passed, I step out of the shadows. Moonlight spills across the living space, catching the edge of the sofa, the outline of the dining chairs. Everything looks harmless in the silvery light.

I creep down the hallway, where the air is warmer, and get closer to her bedroom. In this part of the villa, there is the scent of soap and flowers. I recognise notes of jasmine.

Pushing her door slightly ajar, I can see her curled on her side, her hair spilling across the pillow, one arm bent beneath her cheek. I listen to the steady rise and fall of her breathing, waiting for it to settle into deep sleep.

Somehow, she looks smaller like this. And in her unaware state, she seems peaceful.

I prefer her this way. Here in this quiet moment of unconsciousness, she is mine.

I step inside the room, pausing when she stirs.

My body stills and I hold my own breath as hers changes, then steadies again. She doesn’t wake, but I wait for a few seconds before moving closer to the bed. Close enough that I can hear the tiny noises she makes as she sleeps. Close enough to see the faint pulse at her throat.

The duvet has twisted around her legs, and I reach down and smooth the edge of it flat, keeping my movements careful. She sighs softly, turning her face further into the pillow, and although I know I should not stay too long, I can’t help but linger. These moments are too precious.

Her phone rests on the bedside table, screen dark and within easy reach of her hand. I study it for a moment, then pick it up carefully, mindful of the slightest sound, and place it on the table on the other side of the bed. Not far away enough to alarm her, but in the morning, she will hesitate before deciding where she left it.

In the distance, I hear the purr of an engine, probably a car passing on the coastal road below, and I know it’s my cue to step back. But before I leave, I take one last look at her.

She doesn’t understand how easily her story has been altered.

I leave the door as I found it, and back in the living area, in the dim light, I can just make out the socket near the floor. I crouch, pulling the charging cable for her laptop free. She plugged it in before going to bed. It’s a small adjustment, but enough to make her question herself in the morning.

Back outside, I ease the gate so it appears closed but won’t latch fully. She will check it. She always does.

By the time she wakes, I will be long gone. But not far away. And if she wakes suddenly in the night, her heart racing and unsure why – it will be because some small part of her knows.

She was not alone.

19

SATURDAY 7 NOVEMBER

Poppy was starting to worry that she was going mad.

She had awoken Saturday morning later than usual, her mind at first going to Jem, as she thought back over the enjoyable evening they had shared. But, quickly, memories of the pool lights surfaced and how they had been switched on.

The most logical reason was that it had been her.

So why then could she not remember doing it?

The lights were on a bank of switches in the hallway. Was it possible she had flipped the wrong one by accident?

It was a weak explanation, as surely she would have noticed, but right now it was the only one she had.

She reached for her phone, wondering if Keira had been in touch, her fingers finding the surface of the bedside table empty. Frowning, she sat up, eyes widening when she saw it wasn’t there.

Alarm skittered through her. The phone was her lifeline.