‘The weather is nice over Corfu right now,’ he told her. ‘There should be no turbulence and… we should arrive on time.’
‘Good,’ Becky replied quickly. And, just as quickly, the conversation was over.
Twenty-Six
Ioannis Kapodistrias Airport, Corfu
All the members of the original flight from London Heathrow cheered when the plane touched down on the tarmac of Corfu. It seemed to unnerve some of the other travellers until Petra took it upon herself to make an announcement that it had taken them almost three days to get here. With no elaboration on the tale, it didn’t really seem to help.
Becky was planning to get through passport control and jump at the first taxi-driver she found. Hazel had suggested she got verbal quotes before she settled on one driver, but Becky wanted ‘away’ and now she knew the Greek word for ‘no’, she was sure she could manage not to be ripped off. Besides, surely not everyone was out to fleece her.
‘So,’ Petra said, sheening her cheekbones with ChapStick. ‘Where are we headed?’
The girl had somehow ended up right next to her on the super-short-almost-unnecessary bus jaunt from the plane to the arrivals hall and hadn’t really stopped talking since. Agelos is probably going to ask me to marry him the next time we meet. Who’s hotter? Agelos, Elias, Panos or Marathon. You didn’t see Marathon, did you? Elias had got himself on Petra’s list. Marvellous work. Becky had hidden her annoyance, but instead taken it out on Hazel’s giant bag instead, zipping and unzipping the too-stiff zip. Really, she’d wanted to take a pair of scissors to the too-long handles. Perhaps she would, later, maybe turn them into a voodoo doll of the whole world.
‘Well,’ Becky said, ‘I’m getting a taxi to where I’m going to be staying.’
‘And where is that?’ Petra asked, kicking her case along as the queue to have their passports checked moved a little.
‘In the north,’ Becky said, giving nothing away.
‘Cool,’ Petra replied. ‘I want to see the north too.’
‘But where are you staying?’ Becky asked her. An uneasy feeling was suddenly hugging her shoulders.
‘Wherever I end up,’ Petra answered with a grin.
‘But haven’t you booked somewhere?’ Becky inquired. Who went away without booking any accommodation?! It was July! There were no direct flights to Corfu left, it stood to reason that accommodation was likely hard to come by too. Wasn’t the holiday industry still reeling from the demise of Thomas Cook? Petra didn’t have a room. And as Becky processed that thought she realised what was going to come next.
‘I could stay with you, couldn’t I?’
‘Petra…’
‘I mean you told me you were housesitting a big house with three bedrooms and no one’s there but you, is there? Three bedrooms for one person doesn’t really make any sense at all. Three bedrooms is basically a guest house and I’m a guest. I could… buy all the ouzo and the gyros when we go out and I could help you clean… get leaves out of the pool and stuff. I’m good at getting stuff out of the pool. This one time, in Bali, I fished out a gold chain, a pair of Vans and a blow-up doll. A female one if you want to know.’
Becky tried to interrupt. This was her adventure. Hers. She wanted solitude and being at one with Greek nature and all the customs, drinking in all the differences between the two cultures with maybe a little more of that sirtaki dancing she had performed last night. Definitely with a different partner…
‘I can be really quiet if I need to be. Honestly, I can,’ Petra continued. ‘Once, when I was seven, I did a twenty-four-hour silence and then after that twenty-four hours I wrote a sign that told everyone if they doubled their sponsorship money I was going to do a second twenty-four hours concurrently. I made shitloads. For charity obvs.’
‘Petra, it isn’t my house. I don’t make the rules.’ And Ms O’Neill had said ‘no couples’. That meant she wanted one person, not two, didn’t it?
‘But you do, don’t you?’ Petra asked, kicking her case again, the two Greek men in the light blue shirts of the police uniform ever closer. ‘Because no one else is going to be there, are they?’ Then Petra gasped and put her hands to her cheeks. ‘Unless… someone else is going to be there. Unless you’ve invited Elias.’
‘I’m housesitting,’ Becky said, checking the passport in her hand still contained a photo of her. Another one of Hazel’s scare stories had involved arriving at the terminal and finding out she had turned into Malcolm Greengage. ‘I haven’t and won’t be inviting anyone because I am there to do a job.’
‘An unpaid job,’ Petra reminded.
‘Well, I’m getting to stay in a luxury villa with a pool that’s only steps away from the beach. Who wouldn’t want to do that for free?’
‘Well,’ Petra started again. ‘I could be your… security. This one time, in Japan, I absolutely floored this supposed expert in karate with one decisive move.’
That did sound impressive. ‘Do you know karate?’ Becky asked her.
‘No,’ Petra replied. ‘I headbutted him.’
‘Petra,’ Becky said with a sigh. It was almost their turn to be checked. ‘I really don’t think—’
‘Please,’ Petra begged.
There was a change in her voice now, a real cutting emotion to it and when Becky focused on her properly, she could see there were tears forming in the girl’s light blue eyes.
‘Petra…’
‘Please, Becky,’ Petra said again, more emotion evident. ‘I really like you. I do. And I… I’ve been completely on my own for so long I just feel like… I don’t know… I feel like company… maybe.’ She cleared her throat suddenly, as if she wanted to clear the emotion she had just let seep out. ‘And we haven’t even talked about the greatest chick flick of all time yet… Legally Blonde.’
Becky took in the young girl anew. She was so young. Eighteen? Not much older surely. And despite all the bravado, outlandish remarks and acting-out behaviour there was something vulnerable about her right now.
‘I promise I won’t bring anyone back. I will be completely on my best behaviour. Guide’s honour. I wasn’t in the guides, but I’ve heard they are honourable girls like… Little Mix. I’ll be like Little Mix. But quieter. No singing or dance routines.’
This was when Becky should have said a final and definite ‘ochi’. Except she was thinking about this too-good-looking girl who would be using her feminine wiles to get herself a room in Corfu. If Becky said no to her staying at the house in Kerasia, then where would she end up? And if where she ended up wasn’t safe how would Becky feel then?
‘Pool duty,’ Petra continued. ‘Every day. Twice a day if there’s a nearby tree dropping leaves in it. All the ouzo on me.’
‘Petra…’
‘The poo bin!’ Petra interrupted. ‘I’ll do the bin the bog roll goes into. Every day.’
Becky was a decent human being who had been brought up well. She cared. It was a good trait, but also her ultimate downfall. There was only one thing she could say.