Beside her, Robyn asked, ‘Is this his?’
She nodded, eyes wet with tears.
Robyn walked towards it, placing her hand on the smooth leather saddle.
Nico would’ve ridden this bike back from the villa that night, knowing what he’d done. Fen imagined him riding fast, accelerating into the mountain bends, feeling what, powerful? Manly?
Maybe Robyn pictured that too because, with a swift movement, she toed away the metal kickstand, then gave the lightest of shoves. They both watched as the motorbike teetered for a moment, before crashing onto its side in a clang of metal.
Fen looked at Robyn, eyes stretched with surprise.
And then they ran.
43
Bella
It was supposed to be a hen party! If the others wanted to sip one glass of wine and call it a night by ten o’clock, they should go join a book club.
It was no surprise that Robyn would be lame. Sunstroke? Whatever. But Fen? Bella knew she couldn’t handle alcohol. Her liver was too clean, that was the problem. But to text her excuses?
Just thrown up in the loos. In a taxi back to villa. So sorry. Fen x
Fen should’ve told her in person. She wanted to be the one to put Fen in a taxi and take her home. Not Robyn.
Earlier, when Fen had kissed her at the table, she’d been surprised by the intensity of it, the publicness. For a few delicious, wondrous moments, she’d let herself believe that everything would be okay between them.
She blanked the screen, slipped the phone into her clutch, then tipped back her glass of wine. Belched.
Two down, four still standing. It’d have to do. She stood teetering on her heels. ‘Onwards, to the bars!’ Bella war-cried.
They found a bar a short walk from the taverna, where a DJ in a raised booth thumped out Euro pop. Jesus, she didn’t even recognise any of these songs. Looking at the girls grinding to the beats in their tiny dresses and the boys in their thigh-hugging shorts, she was wondering why they weren’t in bed at ten o’clock, because surely they were only twelve years old?
‘Here we go,’ Eleanor said, returning from the bar with a tray filled with shots.
‘Yes, Eleanor!’ Bella said, impressed. ‘What’ve we got?’
‘Tequila and Aftershock,’ Eleanor shouted above the music.
‘Keeping the vibes nineties. Like it.’
‘I got you two shots of lemonade,’ Eleanor told Lexi. ‘I didn’t want you to feel left out.’
Lexi laughed and squeezed her arm.
‘Tequila first,’ Bella said, handing them out. ‘Lemonade for Lexi.’ The four of them clinked glasses.
‘To Lexi,’ Ana said, raising hers in toast.
‘To Lexi!’ the others chimed, Bella irked that Ana had jumped in to lead the toast.
They tipped back the shots, following them with a chaser of Aftershock. Bella sucked in air through clamped teeth, grimacing.
A group of men in short-sleeved shirts were eyeing them from the other side of the bar. Bella winked, lifting an empty glass as a suggestion. One of the men, who wore a tight pink shirt, nodded, then waved over the barman.
‘Wink equals drink,’ Bella said to the rest of the hens. She loved flirting with men. They were so easy, so uncomplicated. ‘Come on, Lex,’ she said, grabbing her hand. ‘Let’s show these kids how to dance!’
‘In a bit,’ she said easily. ‘I’m just chatting.’
To Ana.
Bella wanted to dance. She needed movement. Wanted to loosen up the night. She could pull Eleanor onto the dancefloor, but that would be weird, like dancing with an aunt.
She swayed on the spot, pushing a hand into the roots of her hair giving it extra volume. Her foot was throbbing and if she didn’t do something fun right now, she was in danger of jumping in a taxi herself.
She glanced back at the bar. The group of men was being served, a tray set out with more glasses. This was good. They’d come over, bringing alcohol, and fresh chat. Maybe she’d try to set up Eleanor with the one at the back who was wearing an oversized Hawaiian shirt. There, that would be her good deed for the night.
Ana and Lexi were talking, heads bent together, but she couldn’t hear above the music. She sighed, looking around, bored. God, this music. It was like listening to a yapping dog on speed.
‘What are you talking about?’ she said, leaning forward, interrupting Lexi and Ana’s conversation.
‘I was just saying I’m worried that I’m not going to fit into my wedding dress. The wedding is still four weeks away and the bump is starting to show.’
‘It’ll be easy to adjust the dress,’ Ana said. ‘If you think about that panel at the front, all the seamstress would need to do is add a strip of fabric on either side of it.’