Lexi stared at her, a frown creasing her forehead.
‘I was too hot. I didn’t want to run the shower and wake Ana. I overheat.’
‘You overheat?’
‘I overheat,’ Eleanor repeated. Her lips began to curl upwards at the absurdity of this moment. Here they were, both drenched, standing in the shallow end of a pool in the middle of the night. Her nose began to wrinkle, her mouth splitting into a grin – and then she was laughing, the sound bubbling from her chest in a cascade of relief. Her shoulders shook.
And then Lexi was laughing, too, covering her mouth with her hands, her knees bending helplessly.
Eleanor clutched herself, bending double, eyelids creased. Her whole body was shuddering. She staggered to the poolside, gripping on. She hadn’t laughed in so long.
‘Oh God!’ Lexi gasped through another peal of laughter. ‘I really thought you were dead.’
‘I know!’ she managed. ‘You ripped half my hair out!’
‘I panicked!’ Lexi choked out. ‘It looked like you’d topped your—’ her laughter stalled.
Eleanor blanched.
There was a terrible, loaded silence.
Lexi looked mortified. ‘I … I …’
‘So Ed’s told you,’ Eleanor said eventually, her voice low.
Lexi hesitated. ‘Yes, yes he did.’
A furious burn of shame scorched her cheeks. She imagined him describing the morning he’d turned up at her flat. When Eleanor hadn’t answered, he’d fetched the spare key from Penelope downstairs, striding in to find Eleanor slumped on her bathroom floor. She was still semiconscious: aware enough to remember the look on his face – first shock, and then, what? Something else, something uglier.
Had he told Lexi this over dinner one night, candlelight flickering, concerned expressions quickly washed away by another glass of red? How would someone like Lexi – whose life glittered and shone – understand how it felt to lie on that bathroom floor, a slick of vomit damp on your cheek?
‘A moment of madness. That’s all. There won’t be a repeat performance,’ Eleanor said, straightening her back, smoothing down her wet T-shirt, and trying to regain some sort of composure.
Lexi nodded. ‘You’ve had such a tough ride, Eleanor. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry for all of it.’
She heard the truth in her words.
‘Look,’ Lexi said, stepping closer. So close that Eleanor worried she was about to reach out, put an arm around her. ‘We might not have known each other for long, but if you ever need to talk, I’m here. Okay? I might not have the answers – but I can listen. I want to listen.’
Eleanor felt a pressure in her sinuses, tightening at her temples. ‘Yes. Well. Thank you.’ Her voice came out strangled.
There was a long silence. The pool filter hummed.
Eleanor cleared her throat. ‘Apologies for scaring you.’
‘It’s fine,’ Lexi said. She looked like she was going to say something else, but Eleanor cut her off, saying, ‘I’m going to dry off. Head for bed.’
‘Good idea. Me, too.’
Water sluiced from Eleanor’s body as she climbed the pool steps. She could feel Lexi watching as she crossed the terrace, and tried to make her stride confident, dignified, although it was difficult when her sodden T-shirt was clinging to her dimpled backside.
Lexi called out, ‘It’s called the first-night effect, by the way. It’s when you can’t sleep because you’ve arrived somewhere new.’
‘Right,’ Eleanor said with a small nod, which she hoped looked like agreement.
Wet-footed, she disappeared into the darkened villa where the other hens slept, knowing that her wakefulness had nothing to do with arriving somewhere new.
THURSDAY
14
Ana
Ana rotated the handle of the grinder, breathing in the sweet, roasted scent of freshly ground coffee beans. Behind her the kettle steamed, but the rest of the villa was pleasingly silent. She’d always loved being the first awake. It felt like being ahead, like a stolen moment just for herself. And God knows, there weren’t many of those.
She spooned the coffee into the waiting cafetière, then poured in the boiling water. A rich, darkly smoked flavour lifted with the steam. Her eyes briefly fluttered closed. She set the cafetière on the waiting tray, beside a small jug of full-fat milk, an earthenware mug and, most important, her book.
Outside, the terrace was still in shade, the sun yet to climb from behind the mountain. Damn, that’s some view! she thought, hand on hip, drinking in the expanse of the horizon, wisps of morning pink feathering the sky. Last night she’d found the silence in the villa deafening, missing the familiar roll of traffic, the lilting voices of passers-by, the rumble of street cleaners – yet in the fresh morning light, she welcomed it.