‘I should speak to Megan,’ Becky said. ‘I know that. Because I also know that she isn’t going to make the first move. Megan, she sits on things. She festers. She would rather time went by and she was forced to act by circumstances. It’s…’
‘Exhausting,’ Elias filled in.
‘Exactly.’
‘Perhaps she will surprise you,’ Elias suggested, intertwining their hands again.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well,’ he started, ‘you will have been away. She will have had to manage her business without you. You will have been missed… no matter what she tells you.’
‘I don’t know,’ Becky said. ‘I’ve trained Hazel and Shelley well. She might not even notice I’m not there.’
‘How could anyone not notice your absence?’ Elias asked.
Becky sat bolt upright, leaning away from Elias’s embrace. ‘Did you hear that?’
‘What?’ he asked.
‘It was whistling.’ She turned her head, looking over both their shoulders at the trees and the road. ‘I’m sure of it.’
‘Perhaps it is the flamingo,’ Elias suggested. ‘Come to ask for the keys to get back in.’
‘There it is again,’ Becky said, this time moving out of his arms and getting to her feet. ‘Can’t you hear that? It sounds like someone’s coming and they’re calling for something.’
Elias stood up too, trying to somehow hone in on the darkness. He stilled, focusing. Then he heard it. It was a whistle and then a name being called… Maverick?
‘It’s Petra,’ Becky said, rushing up the beach. ‘It’s definitely Petra.’
‘Becky, wait,’ Elias said, racing after her.
Forty-Nine
Villa Selino
‘You’re fussing like a nana,’ Petra said, shrugging off the blanket Becky was attempting to put on her shoulders. ‘It’s not Scotland. OK, the mozzy bites are on a par here but it’s still warm, so no blanket required.’
The women were in the vast kitchen of the villa and Becky was making a cup of tea. After all, when in doubt about how to solve a problem, tea was always the answer. With one eye on the boiling water and the other on the young girl sat at the kitchen island, her mind was on the rather inadequate kiss goodbye she had given Elias. After a few spins around the garden they had finally managed to get a sleepwalking Petra back into the house, onto the sofa and settled, until she promptly woke straight up. It had felt a little ‘three’s-a-crowd’ after that and Elias had suggested he leave, saying he would call her tomorrow. Their kiss had been infuriatingly brief, when what she really wanted to do was snog all the other parts of him she hadn’t seen yet…
‘I’m going to go back to bed now. If that’s OK, Nana.’ Petra slipped down from the island seat.
‘No, Petra, it’s not OK,’ Becky said, turning away from the kettle and facing her again. ‘We need to talk.’
‘About Elias?’ Petra asked, grinning. ‘Because don’t think I didn’t see that little lip contact before he left. Although it was a bit restrained. You don’t want to do restrained for too long.’
‘No, this isn’t about Elias,’ Becky said, torn between sitting down and finishing making the tea. ‘I want to talk about you.’
‘My favourite subject,’ Petra said, grinning as she re-took her seat. ‘I have so many stories. Do we have snacks to go with the tea? It’s hours since I had baklava. I told Eleni mine had a body of a bee in it. You should have seen her face! I had to tell her I was joking in the end. I thought she might stroke out!’
Becky made the tea as quickly as possible. She wasn’t going to let Petra skirt over anything this time. Bringing the cups over, she sat up at the island and pushed a cup closer to Petra.
‘Where shall I start?’ Petra asked. ‘Did I tell you about the floating market in China? Or when I once bartered with a bartender for fifty-year-old vodka?’
‘Petra,’ Becky said softly. ‘I want you to tell me who Maverick is.’
Suddenly it was like every colour particle had disappeared from Petra’s face. But then, almost as quickly, the girl smiled and laughed. ‘The guy from Top Gun? Mr Cruise when he wasn’t ancient?’
‘No,’ Becky said firmly. ‘I don’t think so.’ She held her mug in both hands. ‘You were sleepwalking, out of your room, outside, down the path, to the beach, calling “Maverick” like he/she/it was someone you know.’
‘Really?’ Petra said, dismissive. ‘How strange. I mean, I did sleepwalk one-time near Mount Midoriyama, but I put that down to altitude sickness and…’
‘Petra!’ Becky exclaimed, now a little annoyed. ‘Mount Midoriyama isn’t real. It’s from Ninja Warrior.’
‘I meant… Kilimanjaro.’ She sniffed, looking into her cup. ‘It’s late. I’m tired. I should—’
‘Tell me who Maverick is or I’ll… I’ll make you find somewhere else to stay. Which I should have done anyway. Days ago!’
Becky hadn’t meant to sound quite so harsh, but she was worried about Petra. It seemed, as time went by, just as she thought she was getting to know her, the girl was still holding back. There was still something else going on under the surface.
‘You really want me to leave?’ Petra asked. Her bottom lip was quivering and Becky had never felt so heartless. She didn’t want Petra to leave. Despite basically forcing herself on her from the outset, Becky couldn’t imagine ending this housesitting break without Petra with her. They had shared so much together. It had been a little like her relationship with Tara before the whole astro-dating, Jonathan and couples’ dinner parties situation…
‘I want you to tell me more about you, Petra… and your family. Not tales from your world travels, something about where you’re from. You know almost everything about me. The sandwich-making, my annoying sister, how I’m not exactly confident like you. I want to know a little bit more about your family. This Maverick sounded important to you.’ Becky took a breath. ‘Important enough to go sleepwalking through the garden for. Was that your dad’s name?’
And, at the mention of her father, just like that, it happened. Petra burst into tears. Becky jolted on her chair with the sheer ferocity of it. It was like Niagara Falls and Victoria Falls had had a baby and Petra Falls was suddenly the new sight to see. Quickly, amid the heart-rendering sobbing, Becky slipped down from her seat and headed towards the kitchen towel. She reeled off ample amounts then returned, standing next to her friend and putting a hand on a shoulder, passing her the tissue paper.
‘I’m sorry, Petra, I didn’t mean for you to—’
‘Burst the mains drainage?’ Petra said, voice thick with upset.
‘Yes, I mean, I wanted you to talk but I didn’t want you to cry.’
Petra blew her nose. ‘Well, they kind of come together now.’
‘Tell me,’ Becky begged. ‘I’m your friend, aren’t I? Friends tell each other things they’re worried about and we’ve shared so many moments since we met on the plane, haven’t we? Platters of great meat and… that awful movie called Lost Love at Sea and… vintage cars and…’