Page 89 of The House Swap

The offer seemed genuine, but her stomach immediately tightened.

‘No, it’s okay,’ she said quickly. ‘I don’t mind the exercise.’

‘It’s no trouble.’

‘I’m sure it isn’t.’ She adjusted the strap of her beach bag on her shoulder. ‘I’d prefer to stretch my legs.’

For a moment, he didn’t respond. Then he nodded once. ‘All right.’

That should have been the end of it, but as she turned to leave, she was aware of him still watching her.

‘See you later,’ he said.

‘Yeah.’

She didn’t look back.

For a few minutes, she focused on the simple task of walking, still feeling the sway of the boat with each step she took. As she reached the coast road, she tried to shake the tension out of her shoulders. Gradually, the adrenaline that was fizzing through her veins began to subside.

Martin hadn’t made the boat drift. She understood that now. And his explanation about it moving with the sea because he hadn’t thrown down the anchor made perfect sense. If anything, it left her feeling a little foolish.

But why hadn’t he secured them? He had been insistent she go in the water.

And he could have helped her. He had seen she was panicking.

Her phone buzzed in her bag and she reached for it, her heart giving a small irrational jolt when she saw Jem’s name on the screen. He had replied.

Slowing, she opened his message.

So how was it? You survived your first time at sea?

If only he knew.

She wondered if she should tell him what happened, but with everything else that had been going on, would he think she was being overdramatic? A drama queen?

Just about.

She hesitated before adding:

I’ll tell you about it tomorrow night at dinner.

Perhaps she could frame it in a self-deprecating, comedic way. Get the point across that Martin hadn’t helped her, without painting herself as a victim. Let Jem join the dots.

She hit send and slipped the phone back into her bag.

Up ahead, the road was empty and quiet, the low November afternoon sun now casting long shadows across the ground.

As she approached the mini-market where she had first met Jem, she considered whether she should stop and pick up groceries. There was still stuff to eat in the villa, but she was running low on fresh produce and the water she had left wouldn’t last her until the end of the week.

Her shoulder was aching more sharply with every step, and she wasn’t sure she had the strength or the inclination to lug the extra weight back with her.

She would come out again tomorrow, she decided.

By the time she reached the turn-off from the coast road, her damp hair had begun to dry in uneven, salt-stiff strands, and the dirt track leading up to the villa was more gruelling than ever.

She passed the empty shuttered houses on her way up the incline, and, as ever, they were a reminder that hers was the only property occupied. And then Tom’s villa came into view, its white walls bright against the muted tones of the surrounding landscape, and while it now looked familiar, it still didn’t feel welcoming.

Letting herself through the gate, relieved to see the latch was still in place, she unlocked the front door. Inside, the villa was silent and the air was cooler than outdoors. It prickled against her now dry skin, the temperature drop making her suddenly aware of how tired she was. And how alone she felt too.