Page 82 of The House Swap

‘Yes,’ she repeated, noticing he was being more chatty than usual.

‘Well, you have a nice day for it,’ he commented, starting the engine.

As it coughed to life, the sudden vibration travelling up through the soles of Poppy’s trainers, he moved behind the console, one hand resting casually on the wheel.

The low thrum deepened as he eased the throttle forward, guiding them further out, and the water churned white behind them as the boat turned, the shoreline seeming to move in Poppy’s peripheral vision.

Already, the jetty looked further away than she expected. She could see the moored boats bobbing quietly against their ropes and beyond them the harbour curved back towards the low buildings on the shore. Everything looked calm and ordinary, and certainly nothing about the scene suggested she should feel uneasy, yet the tightness remained in her chest.

Out ahead, the mouth widened, the stone breakwater tapering away on either side until the open sea reached beyond it. The water here was darker, the surface alive with long, rolling swells that caught the sunlight in flashes of white.

The moment they cleared the harbour, Martin pushed the throttle further forward and the engine roared. The bow lifted slightly as the boat sliced across the surface of the water, and Poppy shivered, glad she’d put on her hoodie. Wind rushed around her, tugging strands of her hair loose from her ponytail.

‘You okay?’

Martin’s voice cut over the sound of the engine and, glancing back, Poppy saw him frowning at her. She realised she was gripping the edge of the seat.

‘Yes,’ she said quickly. ‘I’m just not used to boats.’

He nodded. ‘It’ll settle after a while.’

She hoped so, trying to relax and enjoy the view as they skirted along the Cretan shoreline. To her right, the coast was still visible: scattered white buildings, sandy stretches broken by rock, and hazy inland hills, while to the left the sea stretched endlessly into the distance.

Eventually, a dark shape appeared on the horizon, low and indistinct at first.

‘There it is,’ Martin shouted over the noise of the engine. ‘Spinalonga.’

Realising it was their destination, she leaned forward slightly, trying to take it in. As they drew closer, the Venetian fortress looked stark and self-contained; low stone walls rising straight out of the water, the buildings behind them sun-bleached and uneven.

Martin guided the boat towards the visitors’ jetty, cutting the engine as they drifted in. The sudden quiet felt enormous after the constant thrum of the motor.

There were a handful of other boats already moored, but not many, and only a scattering of people moving slowly along the shoreline. It was quieter than she had expected.

‘You go and have a wander,’ Martin said. ‘I’ll stay with the boat.’

Poppy hesitated for a second, then nodded, getting up. Her legs wobbled as she carefully crossed the deck, taking his hand to steady herself as she climbed off the boat onto the stone. It was good to have the ground solid beneath her feet again.

She paid at the small entrance and passed through a shaded archway into the island. Here, it felt different. The air seemed stiller and there were narrow pathways winding between crumbling buildings, their windows empty and dark.

Poppy spent an hour wandering through the ruins, aware of the contrast between beautiful and bleak. Beyond the walls, the water was startlingly clear, a bright turquoise under the afternoon light, but the island’s history as a leper colony gave the silence a heaviness she couldn’t ignore.

Eventually, she turned back, retracing her steps towards the jetty, where Martin was waiting.

He watched her as she approached, his expression unreadable.

‘All done?’ he asked.

Poppy nodded, letting him help her back onto the boat. ‘Yes. Thank you,’ she told him, moving across the deck and back to her seat at the front.

He didn’t ask her how it was and whether she’d found the visit interesting, so she kept her thoughts to herself. But as he started the engine and steered the boat away from the jetty, the island stayed with her.

It took her a moment to realise that they weren’t heading back the way they had come. Instead, he was skirting round to the far side of Spinalonga, where the water opened out.

Her stomach twisted. He was taking her further out to sea.

28

Poppy didn’t say anything at first, unsure how to react.