Jean Shering from the tyre factory’s usual tuna mayo was pepped up with home-grown watercress. Adrian from the opticians liked pulled pork with asparagus. And Sally from the swimming pool ordered two cheese, pear and mustard bagels every single day. Often on Becky’s delivery days, her customers would make culinary suggestions to her and she was always back with a mini sample for them to try on her next visit. Sometimes customer ideas worked – grated carrot, humous and chive – and sometimes they didn’t – avocado, raisins and horseradish. So, she may not be management material, but she was top of the tree when it came to customer satisfaction. Not that she would ever get any praise from Megan for going the extra mile. Because Megan didn’t know…
Becky slipped her phone out of the pocket of her trousers and flipped back on to the website she’d been looking at last night. Housesitting. What would that be like? Where would you get to go? The way Becky’s luck was at the moment she’d probably type in Paris and end up in Texas. Not that she was thinking about France. Or even America. No, if she was going to go anywhere, she knew she would choose Greece. Nothing looked quite as beautiful on her web searches. Idyllic islands surrounded by turquoise water under heavenly blue skies… It wouldn’t hurt to do a search, would it? She could pretend she was someone who could just drop everything and head off into the perfect sunset like Megan. Instead of being the backroom fixer everyone relied on to be reliable.
The Wiltshire sunshine in her eyes, Becky tapped at the screen of her phone, spurred on by a braver side of herself that appeared every now and then – possibly once every leap year – then waited for the results…
One result.
Corfu, Greece
Owner seeks housesitter for two weeks. Large villa with private infinity pool, steps away from the sea. A taverna within walking distance. Use of small car. Applicant needed asap.
*One person only. Absolutely NO couples.*
That was a little odd. Surely in this day and age you weren’t allowed to be prejudiced towards people in a relationship. And ASAP spoke of being a little desperate. When had this advert been posted? A look at the date in the top left-hand corner said late last night. Becky swallowed. Infinity pool. Steps away from the sea. But who would really want to do that? Head off at short notice, somewhere unknown, completely and utterly on their own. But, for the first time in a long time she did fit the criteria. She was one person only.
‘The coast is clear, dear. Megan’s huffed off to some networking breakfast.’
It was Hazel, already by her side. Becky hadn’t heard the door open and now she didn’t have time to shove her phone out of sight. She tried to tilt the screen away, but it was too late…
‘What are you looking at? Ooo, housesitting! How fabulous! My friend Hilary did housesitting once. Looked after a load of greyhounds in Norwich.’ Hazel laughed. ‘I’ve told you about Hilary, haven’t I? Probably ate the dog food as well as everything the family had in the cupboards.’ She sniffed. ‘She enjoyed it though. Said they had a hot tub and it was worth getting coated in doggy dribble to get a dip in that.’
Becky went to put her phone away, but Hazel took hold of it, pulling it closer for inspection. ‘This isn’t Norwich. This is… ooo, Corfu. Ooo, look at that lovely villa! I do love a house with that thick, rustic stone. Makes me imagine all those brawny, olive-skinned builders putting it all together…’
Were there pictures of the property? She hadn’t seen photos. It made sense there would be photos, if only to ensure the house you were sitting was actually there to be sat. Although, you could theoretically use iStock. Megan had done that for some of their food on the website, despite Becky’s protests.
She stood up now, getting closer to Hazel in order to see the images on her phone screen.
‘Oh, would you look at that sky! And those olive trees! And the urns full of blooms!’ Hazel looked from the photos to Becky. ‘That’s what you’ll be doing the whole time you’re there. Watering. In the Greek heat in July, you’re going to have your work cut out making sure they don’t all die.’
But she liked gardening. Gazing back at the images in front of her, she took in the mismatched pots and the flowering beds lining the border of the house. It was all pink and purple petals, a bough of a lemon tree ripe with fruit and that divine-looking pool literally whispering an invitation…
‘When are you going?’ Hazel asked, letting go of the phone.
‘Oh,’ Becky said. ‘I’m not going.’ She wasn’t. She couldn’t. It was a mad idea.
‘What?!’ Hazel exclaimed. ‘If I was twenty years younger, I’d have already booked my flight by now. What’s stopping you, dear?’
What was stopping her really? The business? Well, it was Megan’s business, not hers. The change in routine? Maybe it was time her world existed outside of Wiltshire. No one else seemed to worry about changing their routine at the drop of a hat. Becky sighed. Megan hadn’t given a thought to her when she’d clamped her hands around the luxury bag and told Dean two weeks at a mystery location was fine by her.
‘If you don’t take the job,’ Hazel said, ‘I’d feel compelled to tell Hilary about it and her waistline really doesn’t need the calorific pitfalls of moussaka.’
Could she do this? Really?
‘Email the owner,’ Hazel ordered. ‘Then come and help me finish these orders. Bertram from the Co-op left a message on the answerphone. He said he’s convinced by your sample of corned beef and blackcurrant jam.’
‘OK,’ Becky agreed. ‘I’ll be right there.’ She hovered her thumb over the ‘contact’ icon on the display. There was no harm in registering and trying her luck. Besides, it was likely a luxury villa by the Greek sea had already been snapped up, wasn’t it?
Six
Heathrow Airport, London
A week later
Elias was going back to Corfu. Was he completely mad? No. He did have good reason. Excellent reason. He needed to meet with Kristina, away from her solicitor, and put forward Chad’s proposal quickly. He would blindside her, choreograph ‘bumping’ into her at one of the local tavernas, make it a happy coincidence… before he followed it up with a visit to the villa and made a thorough inspection of the house. That was the way he worked. Personal. Close. No detail left unaccounted for.
It was just a shame he hadn’t managed to secure a direct flight. Everything out of London was booked except this one flight to Athens. It was inconvenient to make a change in Greece’s capital, but he only had a forty-minute connection time before the onward hop to Corfu that took less than an hour.
Sipping at his macchiato, Elias surveyed his fellow travellers in the restaurant of the departure lounge. You could certainly tell the categories most of them fell into. There were the businessmen and women like him – all sleek suits and laptop bags looking harried, checking watches or reviewing paperwork. There were the families – mum, dad and children ranging in ages from buggy-board to just-plain-bored – equally as harried as the businessmen and women. And there were the stag parties. Matching T-shirts bearing the name of the groom – Steve’s Rutting Crew was the chosen gang-brand in this case – all on a pint of Stella Artois, all loud with a complete lack of spatial awareness. Elias felt for Steve. This would be his last hurrah. As soon as he tied the knot he would be setting himself up for the three D’s. Disappointment. Disillusionment. And ultimately, the biggest ‘D’ of all. Divorce. Perhaps he should slip the groom his business card.