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Last night had been more magical than she’d dared to dream and she did not want the memory of it destroyed. But it was part of a deal she could no longer keep, and she tried to work out how to say goodbye.
And smile.
And not cry.
Oh, she’d done this so many times growing up. She should be an expert.
She swallowed the bread, gulped down her juice and took a breath before heading back to the navy bedroom.
Go, girl!
‘The helicopter’s at ten?’ Mary checked, as if she were ascertaining the time of the next bus.
‘Correct,’ he said, as she went to her bag and took out some suntan cream.
‘Well, I’m going to have a lovely hour at the beach, and then Athens here I come... I shall be raiding the minibar and staying in,’ she said, and smiled, because she would be sleeping alone for a very long time—however many decades it took her heart to process him. ‘So I hope you really have booked me a room with a gorgeous view.’
‘I don’t get you, Mary. Everything that we agreed to...’
‘Has changed,’ Mary stated.
‘Because of what happened here...?’ He gestured to the disaster of his bed.
‘No, because of what happened there...’ She pointed to the guestroom. ‘I told you my truth and it was wonderful not to be scorned or laughed at or looked down on.’ She rubbed cream into her calves as she spoke. ‘If you can’t reciprocate then that’s that.’
She pulled on an oversized sundress—the one thing of her own she had brought to the island—a gorgeous floppy hat, thanks to Leo, and the sunglasses which she’d bought during her splurge at the airport.
‘You look very English.’ Costa smiled reluctantly.
‘Because I am.’
‘You really want to go?’
‘Yes.’ She gave him a half-smile. ‘Thank you for the most wonderful night. I honestly mean that. And, please, give my love to Yolanda...’
‘She’ll be upset.’
‘Please!’ Mary snorted as she squeezed out a dollop more cream. ‘The locals will be waving flags when you turn up alone. I’m sure you can handle them.’
Only it wasn’t the locals or tonight that was suddenly on his mind. It was Mary, who seemed happy to chat as she rubbed cream into the backs of her thighs.
‘You don’t need all that sunscreen,’ he snapped.
‘Yes, I do.’
‘It’s early morning and not even summer.’
‘I burn easily.’ Mary shrugged.
‘You don’t, though.’
‘I’m very fair,’ she refuted.
‘You’re tougher than you look, Mary...’ And he wasnottalking about the spring sun. ‘You can be anything you want...’
‘I hope to be,’ Mary said. ‘Will you be gone when I get back?’
‘I have to go and get a shave and get my stitches taken out...’ He stopped then, for they did not require the details of each other’s day. ‘Yes.’
