Flanked by this group of women, and abuzz at being part of something, she felt suddenly giddy with the novelty of new friendships, holiday freedoms, sunshine. She’d never had a circle of women friends or let herself enjoy the easy frivolity of nights out. She wondered how she appeared to passers-by – moving as part of a pack, the click of heels across cobbled pavements, the peal of laughter, the scent of after-sun and perfume lifting from their skin.
Maybe a stranger would be fooled into thinking Ana belonged here. That she was simply one of the girls.
And what would be the harm in that?
The dangerous part, Ana realised, was that she was beginning to believe it herself.
34
Fen
Fen’s heart roared in her chest. She knew that when they walked beneath the stone arch, took in the picturesque Greek square with its cobbled stones, the hens would be drawn to the taverna nestled beneath the branches of a fig tree.
The taverna where he worked.
Bella was already tottering ahead, veering away from a skinny dog, the fur at the top of its tail rubbed clean off.
‘You coming?’ Robyn asked, turning to Fen, who had still failed to move.
She reassured herself that it had been seven years since she’d been to Lavaros – he might not even work there anymore. She managed to nod at Robyn. Following the others, she tried to focus on the chatter surrounding her, but she was aware of her flaring heart rate, hard and insistent, a warning deep in her body.
A cluster of mopeds raced past, the petrol scent spiking the air. She startled back, chest tight. The others continued and she had no choice but to follow, crossing the road, which delivered them into the town square.
The air was cooler, shaded and still, incense drifting from the church, blending with notes of garlic and oregano.
‘That taverna looks lovely,’ Lexi said, pointing to Lavaros.
‘There’s a free table right at the edge,’ Bella added. ‘Fen, have you eaten there before? Is it meant to be good?’
Everyone turned to look at her. She could feel each sinew in her face stretching, moving, as she tried to make her mouth work. It seemed she must have nodded, done something, as they were all walking again, crossing the square towards the taverna.
She glanced down the side alley and saw a flashy white motorbike parked on its stand, a personalised number plate announcing its owner.
It was his.
Her heart felt as if it were lifting out of her chest, drilling in her ears.
She’d hated riding on the back of that thing, with no choice but to press her body to his as they sped along the mountain roads, petrol fuming behind them as he revved into each bend, swinging the bike low so her bare knees almost skimmed the ground.
A young waitress appeared, leading them towards the free table, pulling out chairs, handing them menus, pointing to a board of specials, smiling and talking. Greek music played from speakers, and the taverna was filled with the sound of chatter and laughter.
Fen took her seat, hands clamped beneath her thighs to stop them from shaking.
35
Lexi
Lexi was in a strange mood. A low, hollow feeling of uncertainty trailed her. It was a bit like how she felt a few hours into a hangover, when the physical symptoms had eased, but all those toxins had left a little dent or depression in her mood.
Pregnancy hormones, she decided, taking a sip of sparkling water.
There was a wave of delight from the others as the waitress returned with the food: small white dishes filled with tzatziki, stuffed peppers, Greek salad with a block of feta resting on top, grilled fish drizzled with lemon oil and herbs, glossy dolmades, a bowl of taramasalata sprinkled with dill.
Disappointingly, all Lexi craved right now was beige, bland foods. She tore off a hunk of bread and nibbled the crust.
Beside her, Ana speared a ring of calamari, telling Robyn, ‘When Luca was a baby, I remember singing to him, jigging him, pleading with him, making bargains with the universe: Please! I’ll do anything! Just make this baby sleep! And then, my God, when he did – his little eyelids starting to droop, the tiny fingers going slack in mine – then comes that heart-in-throat reversing manoeuvre, backing away from their cot, carefully, carefully, avoiding the creaky floorboard that twangs—’
‘—All without breathing,’ Robyn said, her face flushed from the day’s sun.
‘Yes! The risk of an exhale! Then an hour later, where are you?’
‘Standing by the baby’s cot,’ Robyn answered, ‘watching him sleep, hoping he wakes again so you can give him a cuddle.’
Ana laughed. ‘Exactly!’