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Wish You Were Here. Victoria Connelly
Читать онлайн.Название Wish You Were Here
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9780007443239
Автор произведения Victoria Connelly
Жанр Современная зарубежная литература
Издательство HarperCollins
The world would never please Stella no matter how hard it tried, Alice thought, gazing out of the window and smiling at the intense blue waters far below them as they neared their destination.
The island of Kethos lay in the Mediterranean Sea just off the mainland of Greece. From the air, it looked rather like a squashed heart and Alice wondered if this had anything to do with the Aphrodite legend that was linked to the island.
She picked up her guidebook. ‘Do you want to read this?’ she asked Stella.
‘No, I’m reading this,’ her sister answered, holding up a copy of a glossy gossip magazine. Alice was just about to try and find out more about the famous Greek goddess when the announcement came that they were about to land.
‘About time too!’ Stella said, shoving her magazine into her handbag and reaching for her compact to make sure her face was still immaculate. Alice didn’t bother reaching for hers.
For a moment, she was aware that her sister’s eyes were upon her. ‘You could’ve made an effort,’ Stella told her. ‘Were you in a rush this morning?’
‘Pardon?’
‘Well, just look at you!’
‘We’re travelling, Stella, not attending a party,’ Alice said, noticing her sister’s lacy dress with the plunging neckline.
‘Yes, and you never know who you’re going to meet,’ Stella said, pointedly looking around the aeroplane. ‘Take him over there – he’s quite nice looking. In fact, I might introduce myself.’
‘Stella, you’ve just broken up with Joe.’
‘Oh, that was ages ago!’ she said. ‘And what’s wrong with a bit of flirting, anyway? I’m totally up for a holiday romance and you should be too. Once you get a bit of sun on your face and do something with your hair, that is.’
Alice took a deep breath and counted to ten. She might be getting a free holiday but she knew that it was going to cost her dearly.
Milo Galani had lived on the island of Kethos for all of his twenty-six years. His brothers – all three of them – had left for the mainland years ago but there was no life there for Milo. He couldn’t imagine living anywhere that wasn’t completely surrounded by the sea and the idea of a city gave him nightmares. He’d once stayed with his eldest brother in his tiny flat in Athens for a whole week and it had nearly killed him. He’d been kept awake all night by the sounds of the city: the police sirens, the drunken party-goers and the incessant mopeds.
When he’d returned to Kethos, he’d vowed he would never leave again. The bruising, bustling city might suit his three brothers but it didn’t suit him. He would rather walk through an olive grove than a crowd and he preferred a rocky mountain track to a shop-lined pavement. The island was like an extension of himself and he knew every field and every cove and he loved them all, especially once the spring arrived, like now.
There were some islanders who objected to the arrival of spring because, just as the island was reawakening after its winter hibernation and the first of the year’s flowers were emerging, the first tourists would arrive and the island would be wrenched from the residents and hauled back into life. There were some residents who lived up in the hills who had nothing to do with the tourists at all. They led solitary lives and were happy to do so. They believed that the island belonged to them and them alone and that the outside world had no business intruding upon it.
Luckily, the objectors to the tourists were in the minority and Milo certainly wasn’t amongst them. He welcomed the new injection of life which the tourists brought – he liked talking to them and hearing about the places they came from and the lives they lived there. It was his way of travelling without actually having to leave his beloved island.
He loved watching the boats chugging across the sea from the mainland and he couldn’t help but stare at the holiday-makers as they disembarked. What had brought them to his little island, he wondered? Were they in search of peace and solitude? Did they come in search of Greek myths and legends?
He was watching them today after doing a spot of shopping in Kethos Town. It wasn’t a large crowd – they would come during the busier summer months – but there was enough to fill a couple of tavernas. He spied an elderly couple who were linking arms. The man looked a little pale after his sea crossing and the woman was patting his hand as if to reassure him it was all over. There was a young family with two children who were tugging their parents along as if they couldn’t possibly wait a moment longer for their holiday to begin.
Then, his eye was suddenly caught by a young woman whose face was full of wonder as she stepped off the boat, her eyes large and searching as if she was trying to take everything in at once, and that made him smile. She looked so thrilled to be there – as she should, of course, but he’d seen some really miserable faces coming off that boat in the past. Like her, he thought, staring at a young woman who was following the smiling girl. She was beautiful with her shoulder-length golden hair and her perfect figure encased in a lacy dress but her face was as grim as a stormy day at sea. There was no joy to be found in it and Milo found his gaze returning to the smiling girl once again. She didn’t have the golden hair or knockout figure of her companion but there was something rather special about her and Milo couldn’t help but wonder if he would see her again. Maybe she’ll come to the gardens, he thought. Yes, let her come to the gardens.
He didn’t have time to hang around the harbour. He had to get to work and, for Milo, that meant a short moped ride to the Villa Argenti high up in the hills on the other side of the island. His boss was leaving the next day and wanted to go through some things with him and that always meant trouble. The sooner he left, the better, Milo thought, and then he would have the place to himself again.
Cedric Carlson was an American businessman who did something in technology. Milo wasn’t quite sure what it was, exactly, but it was obviously something that made a lot of money because Mr Carlson had homes in New York, Los Angeles, London and Milan as well as the Villa Argenti on Kethos where Milo was the groundsman.
Milo loved his job at the villa. He had a team of three part-time gardeners working for him but, most of the time, he had the gardens to himself and that was exactly how he liked it.
When Milo clocked in for work, Mr Carlson was sitting on the veranda with an enormous newspaper obscuring the view and covering almost his entire body. How could he be bothered with such things? Milo wondered. Couldn’t he sit back and luxuriate in the sun and enjoy the view for once? But perhaps that was the difference between the two of them – Milo might be able to enjoy the views that the Villa Argenti gave him but he’d never own them. Owning them took hard work, endless work. There was no time to just sit and stare at things.
‘Ah, there you are,’ Mr Carlson said as he spotted Milo.
‘Yes, sir,’ Milo said, running a hand self-consciously through his dark hair. He’d been told to address Mr Carlson as ‘sir’ on his first morning of employment seven years ago and woe betide him if he ever forgot.
‘I’m leaving for New York in—’ he paused and looked at the very expensive gold watch he was wearing, ‘thirty-eight minutes precisely.’
Mr Carlson liked to be precise and his chauffeur would be fired on the spot if he ever failed to match his boss’s precision.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘And I’ll be gone for a fortnight.’
Milo nodded.
‘I’ve left a list of things I want doing. It’s all quite straightforward.’
Milo had no doubt that