she got onto the coarse gritty sand Jayne slipped off her sandals and walked along the water’s edge, down past the sleeping cafés and shady restaurants, down past the boat-hire shops towards a little island caught in the curled arm of the bay. Although the sun was well past its zenith it was still wonderfully warm, the waves reflecting the sunlight like the shards of a broken mirror.
The beach was completely empty except for a handful of locals swimming and windsurfing on the wind-ruffled sea where the harbour met the beach.
Jayne stretched, relishing the sensation of the warm breeze on her face, dropped her towel onto the sand and, slipping off her sandals and thin cotton dress, stepped naked into the welcoming water. Not that anyone saw or cared.
It felt like a cool caress over her body and was the perfect antidote to the long wait at the airport, the flight and the taxi ride from Kos town to her hotel. Jayne sighed and shimmied beneath the waves, the chill making her shiver, and then very slowly she rolled over onto her back, looking up into the cloudless azure blue sky. Kos. Still here after all these years. It felt as if her soul was slowly uncurling. She smiled, with an odd sense of coming home. It had been a good choice.
* * *
In Buckbourne, Ray helped himself to another olive from the little dish on the table and smiled. The restaurant was quiet.
‘So, why don’t you tell me some more about yourself?’ he asked. ‘What sort of things do you enjoy?’
Jane blinked as he carried on topping up her wine glass. She didn’t make a habit of drinking straight after work and this was her second, but after a day spent crosschecking names and addresses and postcodes for customers with special interests, unusual delivery instructions and various complaints, she hadn’t refused when Ray suggested they share a bottle and a toast to her first day with the company. The first glass had slipped down nicely, and—with Jane having had only a sandwich for lunch—had gone straight to her head.
‘Jayne tells me that you worked in the library before joining us. What brought you to the area? Is your partner local?’
The glasses seemed big and Jane was almost certain Ray hadn’t topped his up.
‘No, actually I don’t have one,’ Jane heard herself saying. It felt like he was asking way too many questions anyway. ‘Not at the moment.’
‘Really? I find that very hard to believe,’ said Ray, beckoning the waiter over. Since they had arrived the menus had sat unopened between them on the table.
‘Actually I’ve just come out of a relationship,’ Jane said, not meeting his eye.
‘Really? Ah, well, may I offer my condolences. But you know what they say about getting back in the saddle. I’m sure you won’t have any trouble finding a replacement,’ Ray said brightly.
Jane stared at him. He made Steve sound like a washing machine.
‘Now, what do you fancy? The seafood here is absolutely superb.’ He barely paused for breath. The waiter stood by the table, with his pen hovering over a pad, and Ray’s next remarks were aimed squarely at him.
‘How about we start with the goat’s cheese soufflé—for two—and then we’ll have the paella. And I think we’ll have another bottle of white with that—the Chenin Blanc and salad, maybe the green salad with poached nectarines that sounds rather nice, don’t you think?’
It was entirely a rhetorical question. Jane stared across the table at him; she hadn’t even had a chance to look at the menu, let alone choose. Meanwhile, the waiter was busy scribbling down the order, and far from feeling flattered or protected or in safe hands, Jane felt annoyed—or at least she would have been if it hadn’t been for the wine. Before she could protest the waiter had vanished off towards the kitchen.
‘Now,’ said Ray leaning a little closer, ‘where were we? Oh, I know, you were going to tell me all about what brought you to Buckbourne.’
‘Was I?’ snapped Jane.
Ray laughed. ‘I can see why Jayne thought you’d fit in,’ he said.
Jane stared at him, wondering what the hell he was going on about.
The meal was delicious but he seemed odd. For a start Ray appeared to be totally enthralled by her every word. He insisted she have a liqueur after dinner, and although Jane declined she had a strange feeling that there was booze in the coffee. This was hardly the nice shiny start she had anticipated. Looked like getting drunk during the day was getting to be a habit.
‘How about I call you a cab?’ Ray said while he was settling the bill. ‘Unless of course you’d prefer to come back to the office and have some coffee? You look like you could use some.’
Jane hesitated for a moment or two as Ray waved the waiter over to take his card.
Jane very, very slowly opened her eyes, struggling to get her bearings. It was almost dark and she had the most terrible hangover. Even her eyelashes ached. Although as she looked around the room it occurred to her that that might very well be the least of her worries. Oh my God, moaned a voice in her head, when she found she was naked in a strange bed in a strange room with the headache from hell.
Oh my God, oh my God, screamed her conscience, never one to hold back on melodrama when the occasion warranted it. Surely to goodness she hadn’t gone back to the office with Ray? Surely, even given her patchy track record vis-à-vis men she hadn’t ended up stark naked and blind drunk in the boss’s bed on her first day in a new job? Surely not.
Jane scurried through her memories, trying desperately to recall exactly what had happened. She could remember the wine, remember eating supper, remember coffee, although that was slightly fuzzier, remembered thinking she felt sick—hopefully she hadn’t been. And then? And then…nothing.
Surely she couldn’t have slept all night? She ought to get up. She ought to get up, get dressed and go home.
Jane looked around for her clothes and spotted her suit and blouse hanging neatly over the back of a chair under which were tucked her shoes. Did seducers hang up your clothes? And where the hell was her underwear? Was it clean? Did it match? While her brain busied itself panicking over trivia she heard footfalls on the stairs.
‘Oh my God,’ whimpered her conscience. ‘Oh my God…’ It took Jane a second or two to realise it wasn’t her conscience but her whimpering aloud.
She fought the temptation to hide under the duvet, while across the room the door swung slowly open.
‘So you’re awake then?’ said Gary. He was carrying a tray on which a glass of something opaque and white hissed and bubbled. Beside that stood a pot of tea. ‘You still drunk?’
Jane was torn between resenting his tone and wanting to hug him. Gary didn’t wait for an answer. ‘Drink this and have a shower. I’ll get you something to eat. There’s a robe, and everything else you’ll need is in the bathroom.’
‘How did I end up here?’
‘Because there is a God,’ said Gary grimly, plumping
