Page 61 of The House Swap

‘Sorry. Of course.’

Unzipping her ankle boots now, she removed them and took them out to the front door. She put her bag down beside them, figuring she didn’t need to carry it around all night.

She hadn’t put on socks and the tiles on the floor were cold against her soles.

‘I like your nail polish,’ Sue said as she returned to the room. ‘Such pretty toes.’

‘Oh, um, thank you,’ Poppy said self-consciously, wishing she’d been allowed to keep her boots on.

‘Don’t show Ian. He’ll only start getting ideas.’

Poppy looked at her in alarm. What ideas did she mean?

Sue burst out laughing. ‘I’m only teasing you, love. The look on your face.’

It was a joke? It hadn’t felt like one.

‘Am I missing something amusing?’ Poppy jumped as Ian’s hands touched her waist, giving her a quick squeeze. ‘Excuse me, young lady,’ he said as he passed, and she realised she had been in his way.

Still, her heart thumped fast and sudden. Yes, he might be one of those tactile older blokes who thought nothing of it, but the contact lingered in her mind, more than it probably should have done.

She could see he thought nothing of it, as he was already talking to Sue, the subject changed.

‘Do you want me to set the table, love?’

‘No need,’ she told him, planting a quick, affectionate kiss on his lips. ‘I’ve already taken care of everything.’

Ian turned and smiled at Poppy. ‘She’s made saganaki for starters. She’s desperate for you to try it.’

Poppy suspected that he no idea that what he had done had been wrong. If she brought it up, things would become uncomfortable and he would likely be embarrassed.

Perhaps she should just try to forget it had happened.

She wasn’t sure how old Sue and Ian were. Late fifties, she’d thought, but maybe they were slightly older and more from a generation that didn’t think twice about things like that.

‘Right, shall we go on through?’ Sue announced, leading the way through beaded curtains into another smaller room.

The change in tone was immediate, the walls a rustic, rough-hewn stone, while dark beams lined the ceiling, making it feel even more compact. There was only one tiny window and it was dressed in red voile curtains, and the walls were covered in a mishmash of framed prints of England – a red double-decker bus, Big Ben and Tower Bridge – and decorative plates painted in blue and white Greek patterns.

Centre stage, a heavy wooden dining table dominated the space with a bench seat on the far wall and two chairs the other side. It was decorated with round woven placemats and a pair of lit stubby candles that sat in jars, their light dancing in shadows across the walls, making it feel warmer than it actually was.

It was certainly cosy, in a way that Sue clearly intended to feel welcoming, but with the beaded curtain closed and the only other light coming from a wall sconce that gave out a low glow, it was also a little claustrophobic. And it didn’t help that there was very little space to move without brushing against something – or someone.

‘Take a seat,’ Sue told Poppy, following after her, so she was left no choice but to go around to the other side of the table where the bench seat was. ‘You sit tight. I’ll just go and dish up the starter. Ian, love, can you come and help me.’

As they left through the curtain, Poppy found herself briefly alone in the room, and she took a large sip of her wine, using the time to try to pull herself together.

This was Sue and Ian, who had been nothing but welcoming to her, and it was clear Sue had gone to a lot of trouble for tonight’s meal.

If Jem had been here, she wouldn’t be feeling uncomfortable. This was all connected to her worries about Tom’s villa, she was certain.

The aroma of baked cheese reached her before the Pritchards appeared through the curtain again. Between them, they were carrying three plates, and Ian had another bottle of wine in his hand.

Sue slid onto the bench seat beside Poppy, forcing her to move up, while Ian sat on the chair opposite her. The way she was positioned, Poppy felt hemmed in.

‘This is lovely, isn’t it?’ Sue said, setting the plates down, each one containing a thick rectangular slice of what looked like golden-brown pie and a wedge of lemon. ‘You haven’t had this before, have you?’ she asked.

‘No, I haven’t.’