Wish You Were Here. Victoria Connelly
was the colour of the summer sky. It would look beautiful with her turquoise dress and Stella wouldn’t miss it if it was returned straightaway.
Folding the jewellery roll and closing the suitcase, Alice tiptoed out of the room and, once safely in her own bedroom, placed the pendant around her neck and dared to gaze at her reflection. Her newly-washed hair was clinging to her face in dark strands and her blue eyes were made all the bluer by the bright dress. She dared to smile. For once, she looked almost pretty.
She slipped on a pair of sandals. They were a simple brown leather with nothing really to recommend themselves. In fact, they looked a little at odds with the pretty summer dress and Stella would no doubt have a fit if she clapped eyes on them but they were the only pair Alice owned and they would have to do.
Grabbing her handbag which was a rather monstrous black affair in which Alice usually kept at least three books, she left the villa and turned right out of the gates, heading down the steep path that led to Kethos Town.
How wonderful it was to feel warm. She hadn’t seen her limbs for months and they looked startlingly white in the Greek sunshine.
The road into town was quiet and Alice was soon down on the harbour front where they’d docked just a couple of hours before. She looked around at the pretty houses jostling along the water. Most of them were white and shaped like sugar cubes but there were some in brilliant colours too like Venetian red and sunset yellow and there, sat at the top of the hill overlooking the sea, was a beautiful church with a dazzlingly blue domed roof.
There were a few tourists about and Alice found a taverna overlooking the harbour and ordered moussaka, some salad and a glass of wine before closing her eyes and breathing in the salty tang of the sea and listening to it as it lapped against the harbour wall. Why couldn’t life always be like this? she wondered. Why was life more about in-trays than outings? And why were there always more workdays than weekends?
How hard it was going to be to return to England and her job after spending a week in such a paradise, she thought. Maybe it had been a mistake to come on holiday. Maybe she would have been better off not knowing there were such beautiful places in the world.
Tucking in to her moussaka a few minutes later, Alice did her best to banish thoughts of the office waiting for her back in England. She wasn’t going to think about the person she was there. Here, she could be anybody she wanted to be. Nobody knew her here. Nobody would judge her or gossip about her in the staff toilets. She was just another tourist who had come to soak up a bit of sunshine and that realisation made her smile.
Finishing her meal and glass of wine, she paid at the bar and noticed a handful of leaflets on a nearby table. There was one about the island’s museum and another about boat trips but one in particular caught her eye. It was for a villa set in acres of beautiful grounds which overlooked the sea at the south of the island.
‘The Villa Argenti,’ Alice whispered and the very name sounded like a promise. Its towers and turrets were mesmerising and its great Venetian-style windows seemed to hold secrets behind them, and the gardens rolled gently across the landscape before ending in cliffs which plummeted dramatically down to the sea.
She made up her mind then and there that she would visit it. Maybe it would even tempt Stella to leave the comfort of their villa. Yes, it would be the first of many wonderful adventures they would have together on the island. They’d laugh, relax and become closer than they’d ever been before, Alice thought, as she walked along the steep road that led out of the town and back to their villa. Stella couldn’t fail to be charmed by such a place as the Villa Argenti, could she?
‘I’m back!’ Alice called as she closed the front door behind her. ‘Stella?’
‘I’m through here,’ Stella said, her voice coming from the living room.
Alice found her sprawled out on one of the enormous cream sofas, the empty wrapper of a cereal bar on the table before her. She sat down next to her sister, half-expecting her to ask her where she’d been but she didn’t.
Undeterred, Alice took the leaflet for the Villa Argenti out of her handbag and handed it to Stella.
‘What’s this?’ Stella asked.
‘Somewhere I think we should visit.’
‘What – some boring old house?’
‘It isn’t a house – it’s a villa.’
‘But we’re in a villa already.’
‘Not like this one – just look at it!’ Alice said, her voice high with excitement. ‘Anyway, the villa isn’t actually open to the public but the gardens look so beautiful, don’t you think?’
‘It looks like somewhere they’d drag you on a school trip!’ Stella said, handing the leaflet back to Alice.
Alice bit her tongue and returned the leaflet to her bag. There wasn’t going to be any laughter on this trip, and they weren’t going to become closer than ever either, were they?
‘Hey!’ Stella suddenly said, leaning forward on the sofa and staring at Alice. ‘What are you doing wearing my necklace?’
By the time Milo had tidied around the garden and put all the tools safely away, the sun was setting fast, leaving great violet streaks across the sky and turning the sea indigo. It was a time of day that he loved, especially in the spring when the air was balmy and one could get away with a short-sleeved shirt.
Leaving the Villa Argenti on his moped, he took a winding mountain road which first descended towards the sea and then climbed steeply. From the top, you could see across the water to a neighbouring island. Milo had been there a couple of times. It was about ten times the size of Kethos and had been heaving with tourists. It made his own dear island seem deserted. Certainly, there wasn’t the notorious rush hour that some places were famous for; Milo practically had the roads to himself when he left work although the occasional stray goat would often force him to slow down and swerve. He’d heard his brothers complaining about their commute in Athens and he didn’t envy them. He always looked forward to his ride to and from home, occasionally breaking into song as he rode, his voice filling the air – not always in tune, perhaps, but always happy. Life was good. He loved his island, he loved his job and he loved his home.
But he wasn’t going directly home that evening because there was something he had to pick up first. Turning his moped into a narrow road, he drove through a tiny village which ended in a small courtyard where half a dozen hens were pecking around in the dirt. There was a simple two-storey white house that was typical of Kethos. Its windows were wide open and a pair of orange curtains fluttered in the evening breeze and Milo could smell something wonderful cooking.
‘Hanna?’ he called as he took off his helmet and got off his bike. ‘Anyone at home?’ he called in Greek as he entered the kitchen but there was nobody about so he went back outside again and spotted a portly woman in her sixties with a huge wicker basket full of white sheets. Milo ran across the grass and took the basket from her. Her round face was red from the exertion.
‘Shouldn’t Tiana be helping you with this?’
Hanna waved a fat hand at him. ‘Oh, let the child be a child.’
‘Where is she?’
‘In the back room on that computer thing.’
Milo sighed. Slowly but surely their little island was being taken over by computers and hand-held gadgets. Even the most unlikely of people seemed to have them now and were connecting to the internet with alarming regularity.
‘She knows I don’t like her on that day and night. She’s a kid. She should be outside, running up mountains and scraping her knees on rocks.’
They entered the kitchen and Milo put the basket of washing down on the tiled floor. Two large black cats were asleep on an old leather chair