That was the remembering she wanted.
But there were other memories locked here, too.
Dry-mouthed, Fen removed her sandals and moved lightly across the cool stone floor, eyes adjusting to the dim. She unlatched the shutters and flung them wide. Dazzling light flooded the villa, dust motes set dancing. She blinked into the sunshine.
She was wondering if she’d regret saying Yes to using the villa for the hen weekend. Her aunt had announced to Fen and Bella that she was selling the Greek villa over sashimi at her favourite Japanese restaurant – ‘Another project has come up in Croatia and I need to release some funds to secure it’ – adding that Fen absolutely must use the villa while it was standing empty.
Bella had flattened her palms to the table, leaning forward. ‘Lexi’s hen! Let’s go to Greece for her hen!’
Fen’s aunt adored the image of the villa teeming with women and music and celebration, and by the time a second bottle of saké was set on the low table, the plan had been cemented.
‘My God!’ Bella cried, rushing through the doorway, high heels clacking on the stone floor. ‘Look at this place!’
The villa had been designed in the Cycladic tradition, with a minimal aesthetic, as if chiselled from the rock it perched upon. Thick stone walls were washed white, their corners smoothed. The furniture was wooden, low, and sparse, emphasising the feeling of space. It was complemented by domed whitewashed ceilings framed by beams of salt-bleached wood.
‘Everything is so beautiful!’ Bella marvelled, her fingers trailing across the tassels of a wheat-brown wall hanging, then moving to a wooden side table hollowed from a single tree trunk. ‘Oh, look!’ Bella exclaimed, picking up a framed photo. ‘Is this you?’ She tapped a neon fingernail against the glass. ‘Girl, you’re looking smoking with those curves!’
The photo had been taken on the terrace in front of the villa, Fen squinting into the evening light, face blooming with an easy smile. She was wearing a denim miniskirt, a scarf threaded through the belt loops, with a vintage Let Love Rule vest that she’d paid three pounds for in a second-hand stall. Red sunglasses were propped on her head. She remembered going for dinner later that night in the Old Town, abuzz with energy. The memory of what happened afterwards shouldered forward with such sudden force that it felt physical. The blood drained from her face, her skin turning to ice.
Fen snapped her gaze away, ducked past Bella, and hurried out onto the terrace.
She stood in the shade beneath the pergola and set her gaze on the blue oval eye of the pool. She focused on her breath, slowing and deepening each inhale and exhale.
‘Babe?’ Bella said, following her out onto the terrace. ‘You okay?’
Fen told herself she was. ‘Fine. Just a bit light-headed after the flight.’
Lexi joined them on the terrace, drawn to the edge by the glittering blue sea. She placed her palms on the low stone wall. ‘This view,’ she said, drinking in the empty stretch of the ocean. Then she startled backwards. ‘Shit. That drop!’
Bella marched to Lexi’s side, fingers pinning her sunglasses in place as she stared over the edge. ‘Jesus! It’s lethal.’
The drop was sheer, falling over two hundred feet onto the jagged slabs of rock below. ‘It’s why the villa has been slow to sell. People are put off by the cliff edge,’ Fen explained.
Bella pointed east. ‘Is that ours?’ she said, looking towards the brochure-perfect cove nestled at the foot of the cliffs.
‘Yep. Private beach.’ A wooden rowing boat waited on the shoreline, the turquoise paint peeling. Fen concentrated on recalling the pleasure of dipping the oars in the early-morning sea, rowing out to the hidden cove around the corner where a tiny bay had been carved from the cliffs.
There were good things here, too.
‘What about having a beach fire one evening? Could we do that?’ Lexi asked, looking towards the empty cove.
‘For sure,’ Fen said. ‘There’ll be plenty of driftwood washed up.’
Bella’s eyes glittered. ‘A beach party! Yes! To end the hen weekend! I love it!’
Lexi moved across the terrace, crouching low to smell the herbs growing in terracotta pots.
Bella approached Fen, lifting onto her tiptoes to place a kiss on her cheek. ‘We okay?’ she whispered, resting a hand at her waist.
Fen could see herself reflected in Bella’s sunglasses, her creased brow, the tightness in her jaw. She wanted to say, Sure, we’re fine. She wanted to feel buzzed to be on holiday with Bella. But she didn’t. Couldn’t.