The Bed and Breakfast on the Beach: A gorgeous feel-good read from the bestselling author of One Day in December. Kat French
comes up for sale. You guys are about the only new people here in as long as I can recall.’
‘Wow,’ she said, taken aback. No wonder Corinna had been so eager to get a look at them. Life in England had been so entirely different; neighbours came and went and people did any number of things to make their living. Here there was an actual community, a sense of family and of history. Even in the short time she’d spent on Skelidos so far, Winnie was already starting to feel that it suited her bones more than the complicated, fractured society back home in the UK.
Home. It was a word that didn’t seem to apply to anywhere for Winnie right now. Her parents’ house would always be her childhood home, but living there again for even a short time had proved glaringly that it was no longer her home these days. Her home had been the house she’d bought with her husband and built into their love nest, but also the place where she’d discovered his infidelity, and so it was no longer somewhere that she held any keys or affection for.
It was too soon to confidently refer to Skelidos as home either though. She hoped that one day it would be in her blood and her heart, but at the moment it felt more like they were visiting the island than emigrating to it. Perhaps it was because the others, Stella in particular, seemed to view this as an experiment, a short-term stopgap to get them all out of crisis points at home. They’d all been in need of something and Villa Valentina had practically fallen into their laps.
They hadn’t realised at the time how rare it was for property to become available on the island; they certainly hadn’t counted on being the only newcomers in the last decade.
‘Is tourism fairly new here?’ Winnie asked.
Jesse nodded. ‘Very much so. None of the tour operators come here, thankfully. We’re happy to leave the crowds over on Skiathos, and on Skopelos too now thanks to Mamma Mia!’
‘They filmed it there?’
‘Sure did, and their tourism shot off the scale as a result. I’m just glad they didn’t glance our way instead.’
Winnie had seen the movie several times over. Her mother had even mentioned it when she’d broken the news about the B&B, in order to fret that life wasn’t like the movies and they were asking for trouble buying a slice of some unknown island. Winnie’s parents valued routine and order; the concept of their daughter upping sticks across the globe to somewhere they’d never even heard of had filled them with unease.
Skelidos did share some of its bigger sisters’ beautiful traits, though. Lush green pine-forest-clad hills surrounded by sleepy agricultural lands, all fringed with pale, sugar-soft sands sliding seamlessly into the gleaming turquoise sea. Given the ever-present overhead sun, it was a surprisingly verdant place, with creamy wildflowers awash through the hedgerows and the familiar, abundant ramble of bright cerise bougainvillea in evidence everywhere. For a small island, it certainly packed a visual punch; it was picture-postcard Greece without the crowds or the neon bars, an off-the-beaten-track paradise that few people seemed to have discovered as yet.
‘This is you,’ Jesse said, turning into the car park of a more sizeable Carrefour than Winnie had expected. ‘What?’ He slid his glasses off and turned to look at her when she didn’t move.
‘Nothing,’ Winnie said. ‘It’s just bigger than I thought.’
‘Just because we’re quiet it doesn’t mean we’re uncivilised. You’re perfectly safe,’ he said. ‘We like our exorbitantly priced English teabags and imported bacon just as much as the bigger islands.’
Winnie rolled her eyes. ‘You think we won’t cut it here, don’t you?’
‘It’s not for everyone,’ he said. ‘You might find it too quiet.’
‘Maybe. I don’t think so though, somehow. And anyway, quiet is good right now.’
He tapped his fingers on the wheel. ‘And what about when you’re all done hiding? What will you do then?’
Winnie frowned. ‘We’re not hiding,’ she said. ‘Just because you overheard snapshots of our lives in the bar yesterday, it doesn’t mean you get to make judgments on our staying power.’
He looked unabashed. ‘I’m just sayin’ it the way I see it, Legs.’
‘Legs? Did you just call me Legs?’
‘You’ve got them.’ He nodded down towards her knees.
‘Everyone does.’
‘Yeah, but yours go all the way up to your ass.’
‘Yes, but …’ She trailed off, blushing a litle. There really wasn’t much she could say to that.
‘I’ll be back in half an hour or so. I’ll come and find you.’
Winnie nodded and scarpered out of his car, muttering thanks as she slammed the door, pulling her skirt down her thighs as she went.
Winding his window down, he shot her a grin. ‘I can still see them.’
‘So stop looking then.’
Winnie turned and walked away, turning at the supermarket to find him still blatantly watching her.
‘You’re so predictable, caveman,’ she half shouted, making a woman pushing a trolley past her turn to look at her in alarm.
‘Signomi! Sorry!’ Jesse called, raising his hand in greeting as he used both Greek and English for clarity. ‘She’s new around here.’
It seemed to do the trick, for the woman at least, who shrugged and moved on. It had a far less relaxing effect on Winnie, who felt more like throwing tomatoes from the display outside the store at Jesse’s smug grin as he tapped his watch face and threw his arm across the back of the passenger seat to reverse out of the car park.
‘Legs,’ she muttered, watching him pull away in a cloud of dust before heading inside the thankfully cool supermarket.
‘Get everything you need?’
Winnie turned away from the baffling display of cleaning products at the sound of Jesse’s voice behind her.
‘Has it been that long already?’ She frowned down into her half-filled trolley. Her shopping so far had been hit and miss from the list they’d all cobbled together around the breakfast table that morning. There were ingredients for dishes Frankie wanted to test out, and vague things like ‘buy dinner’ and then a few requests for tastes of home if they were available.
‘I’m looking for bathroom cleaner. For the loos and things.’
He scanned the shelves, plucked a spray bottle down and briefly read the back before handing it to her.
‘This one. It actually specifies that it’s best for delicate-stomached tourists who insist on a full English breakfast washed down with builder’s tea.’
‘Ha ha.’ Winnie grabbed it from him and put it as far away from the bacon and eggs in her trolley as possible.
‘What else do you need?’
Surveying the list, Winnie said, ‘Dinner.’
‘Eat at Panos’s place.’
‘We live here, Jesse. We want to cook for ourselves.’
‘I live here, and Panos cooks my dinner more than I do.’
‘You’re a man.’
‘Now who’s being stereotypical?’
She pulled a face at his back as he wandered away towards the deli counter. Following him, she listened as he chatted easily with the girl behind the display, speaking in fast, fluent Greek that she couldn’t follow. He made the girl laugh though, so evidently he was more charming in his second language than his native tongue.
‘Not vegetarians, no?’
‘Frankie is.’ Winnie didn’t