Page 62 of The House Swap

Poppy squeezed lemon on her saganaki, then tried a bite.

‘It’s delicious,’ she said as she finished her mouthful of fried cheese, meaning it. The food was really good.

‘I like to use halloumi,’ Sue said.

‘It’s our favourite,’ Ian added, leaning over to top up Poppy’s wine glass.

The conversation as they ate was light and easy and she found herself starting to relax. This wasn’t so bad after all.

They spoke more about Sue and Ian’s time in Crete, then Ian asked Poppy about her job, as Sue cleared their plates, refusing Poppy’s offer to help.

‘Pause for just a moment,’ Sue told her. ‘Ian, can you help me serve again, love?’

Again, Poppy was left alone, and for the first time, she realised she was starting to feel a little bit tipsy. She really needed to slow down on the wine.

Easier said than done, as the first thing Ian did after the main course had been laid out was to top up her glass.

‘I really shouldn’t,’ she protested. ‘I can already feel it going to my head.’

‘Nonsense,’ he insisted, filling the glass. ‘The food will soon soak it up.’

Poppy looked at the spread on the table. The centrepiece was a fish dish. Cod baked in a rich tomato sauce, with onions, garlic and other vegetables, Sue explained. There was also a basket of crusty bread slices and a traditional Greek salad with feta cheese and black olives.

Instead of letting Poppy serve herself, Sue insisted on doing it for her, piling her plate high with food.

‘Help yourself to bread,’ she said. ‘You’ll need it to soak up the sauce.’

Poppy reached into the basket for a slice at the same time as Ian did, his hand brushing against hers, and she flinched, remembering how he had touched her earlier.

It was just an accident, she told herself, but then she made eye contact with him and he was staring directly at her, the hint of a sly smile on his face as if he was gauging her reaction.

Her skin flushed, and it was suddenly too warm in the room.

‘Carry on, love,’ Sue piped up, oblivious as she dug into the salad. ‘You were telling us about your job.’

Poppy glanced at Ian again. The smile was still there, but now it seemed encouraging rather than devious.

Had she imagined it?

She tried the cod, but although it was flavoursome, she struggled to swallow her mouthful. Reaching for her wine glass she took a gulp, glad Ian had filled it up again.

She needed to pull herself together before she embarrassed herself, reading too much into signs that simply weren’t there.

Taking a steadying breath, she forced herself to smile, aware that both Sue and Ian were looking at her. As she explained about her work as an editor, she started to relax again.

It was easy to talk about her work, though she was careful not to stray into the messy details of what had happened to make her flee England. She had come here to forget about Simon Daley, so, instead of telling them about the accusations he had made, she had let them believe she had just been on a burn-out.

Sue listened with an expression of exaggerated sympathy, shaking her head. ‘You poor thing. You’ve obviously been working too hard and need to relax.’

‘That’s what I’m trying to do, and I really appreciate everything you’ve done tonight, Sue. The food has been lovely.’

It really had, and if there had been moments where Poppy was feeling uncomfortable, she was certain it was all in her imagination. Jem spoke highly of the Pritchards. They had been friends with his dad, and after he had died, they had tried their best to help with everything he had told her. They were good people.

She tried to push the incidents with Ian to one side, relieved when Sue continued with mundane questions about her job.

‘So, spill the gossip. Which famous authors have you worked with?’

‘No one really famous,’ Poppy told her. ‘Some of them are successful and sell a lot of books, but they’re not household names.’