But, she thought, wavering, not this holiday.
Not these women.
Her gaze travelled over the shutters that sealed off each of the darkened bedrooms, mapping where Lexi would be sleeping.
Somewhere deep in her gut, a voice was telling her: Go home. She should take a taxi to the airport. Return to London. Never see any of these women again. Leave Lexi be. The hen party could become a memory – a strange beat in time where she lost her way, if only for a moment.
As the shutters to Lexi’s room cracked open, light hitting Lexi’s slender forearm as she welcomed in the morning, Ana knew she couldn’t leave.
15
Fen
‘I’m going hiking,’ Fen whispered to Bella, who was sleeping with her arms thrown back, the smooth hollows of her underarms exposed.
There was something softer, vulnerable, about Bella when she slept, like a child who, no matter how obnoxiously they’d behaved throughout the day, was returned to innocence by sleep.
Yesterday’s argument still throbbed hotly, but Fen knew the hen weekend wasn’t the time to examine it. That would have to wait until they were home. ‘You’re welcome to come,’ she added.
Bella curled onto her side. ‘No sunlight till ten a.m.’
Fen grabbed her backpack and slipped from the bedroom, quietly relieved. Bella would only have complained about the heat, the weight of her pack, the length of the hike, and they’d have ended up returning early.
In the lounge, the shutters had been thrown wide, the scent of flowering jasmine breathing into the villa with the morning light. Beyond the pool, she could see Lexi on her yoga mat, walking out her heels in downward dog. Ana had her head in a book, a cafetière beside her on the low stone wall.
As she turned to cross the room, her gaze caught on the framed photo of herself that Bella had picked up yesterday. Her stomach lurched.
No way was she having that. She made herself pick up the picture and study her own image. She was only nineteen when it was taken, still so fresh and inexperienced. She wanted to warn that girl with the full, sunny smile, tell her: Be careful. You don’t know what’s coming.
She felt a tightness spreading across her ribs, a tremble in her fingertips. She gritted her teeth, fighting it down. She didn’t need to feel afraid. It was over. In the past. Done. She’d worked through it. She was stronger now.
Yet when she looked at herself, all she could hear was his words: You disgust me.
Without pausing to think, she was bending towards the cupboard, shoving the framed picture to the very back. She slammed it shut, then wiped her hands down the sides of her shorts. Fuck him.
She drew a breath.
‘Sure you don’t mind me tagging along?’
Fen spun around. Robyn was crouching near the door, lacing up her hiking boots. She’d forgotten she’d mentioned the hike to Robyn. In truth, she’d have rather stolen out solo, disappeared into the mountains alone, but Robyn was looking so eager as she smiled, rucksack at her side, that Fen could only say, ‘I’m sure.’
The morning light was pure, scented with pine. The sun was still behind the mountain as they followed the winding dirt trail, giving them at least another hour of shade before it crested.
The path ascended through shrubs and cypress trees, clouds of dust rising from the tramp of their footsteps. Robyn kept pace at Fen’s shoulder, ponytail bobbing, pale knees rising.
In the distance, the faint echo of a bell rang across the mountain. ‘Is there a church nearby?’ Robyn asked, a little out of breath.
‘There’s a monastery on the northern side of the mountain. I’ve only seen it from a distance – women are forbidden.’
‘What? Why?’
‘Temptation, I suppose. Keep the monks’ thoughts pure,’ she said with a raised brow. Fen didn’t have much tolerance for the rules of the church; her deeply religious upbringing had left a legacy of guilt and shame surrounding her sexuality, which had taken years to unpack.
As the path narrowed, Fen took the lead. Flowering thyme grew from the sun-cracked earth. A lizard scuttled from beneath a rock, crossing their path and disappearing into a thorny shrub.
‘Thanks for letting me tag along,’ Robyn said. ‘It’s so nice to walk without stopping every ten paces to pick up a dropped toy, or examine an ant, or to coax Jack with a trail of rice cakes.’
Fen laughed. ‘Do you get the chance to hike at all?’
Robyn sighed. ‘No. I miss it. I was in the mountaineering club at university. It was every bit as geeky as it sounds – and I loved it. I carried it on into my twenties, disappearing for weekends in the Brecon Beacons. It’s so wild up there and the colours in spring are breathtaking. But then I met my husband – ex-husband – and I sort of fell out of the habit.’