Page 27 of Hot Greek Summer

‘Is it?’ Winnie said, sitting up to adjust her bandeau bikini top. ‘Okey-doke.’ She raised her glass, totally unfazed. It was amazing how much more brave yet relaxed she felt after a day playing hooky and a few heavy-handed G&Ts.

They’d applied themselves wholeheartedly to work since they’d arrived, so the snap decision to down tools and soak up some rays had been a welcome one all round. They lay toasting themselves in a row, facing the sea, floppy sunhats over their eyes and painted toes pointing towards the beach.

‘Do you think we look like one of those “wish you were here” pictures that people in England would have as their screensavers at work and die of jealousy?’ Stella circled her ankle one way in the air and then the other.

‘Abso-bloody-lutely,’ Winnie said. ‘I’d totally choose us.’

‘I always had the boys as my screensaver.’ Frankie sat up, suddenly morose.

Winnie reached out and patted Frankie’s arm. ‘They’re coming over in a few weeks, you’ll see them soon.’

‘And just think how cool they’re going to think their mum is, doing yoga on the beach at dawn and running a secret distillery,’ Stella said, struggling to drink from her glass without sitting up. ‘Balls, I’ve spilt gin between my boobs.’ She rang an imaginary bell then huffed impatiently. ‘Where’s that sodding bellboy got to? I need him to mop me.’

‘Will they really think I’m cool, do you think?’ Frankie said, tossing a hand towel towards Stella as she pulled her knees into her chest and wrapped her arms around them to gaze out towards the horizon. ‘I’d like that.’

‘You’re a frickin’ fairy, Frank,’ Winnie said, in the same tone she might have said, ‘You’re a millionaire supermodel.’ ‘Fairy,’ she said, determined, pointing at her friend. ‘Fairy.’ She jabbed her finger at herself. ‘Fairy.’ She poked Stella in the arm.

‘Fairy with sticky boobs,’ Stella grumbled.

‘And a bit badass,’ Winnie added. ‘We can be fairies, but we have to be badass ones.’

All three of them nodded and lay back on their loungers.

‘So, Win …’ Stella said. ‘How’s the donkey bothering going?’

Winnie had been over to Jesse’s property every morning since their shopping trip to spend a little time attempting to charm The Fonz, and so far it had to be said that he remained completely indifferent to her overtures. He was more than happy to take her offerings, but in terms of reciprocal affection she’d yet to reap even an iota of benefit.

‘I don’t think he likes me very much yet.’

‘Typical man.’

‘He is,’ Winnie agreed. ‘He just does his own thing and flicks his eyes at me every now and then to throw me a crumb.’

‘Are we still talking about the donkey?’ Frankie asked.

‘Haha,’ Winnie said. ‘Although actually we could be talking about either of them. Jesse is equally bloody awkward.’

‘Surely you knew that much already?’ Stella said. ‘Given that he rocked up here on our first day all moody and floppy shirt, like Heathcliff in a rage? If he calls you Cathy, run.’

Winnie had barely seen Jesse in the days that had passed since their kiss up at the lookout point. She was more than half relieved; things between them were a tiny bit massively awkward. She hadn’t found the right moment to mention what had happened to Stella or Frankie either; she’d wound up feeling as if she’d done something wrong or stupid, which was ridiculous given that she was a free agent and could kiss whoever the hell she wanted to. It was a little bit to do with Rory, because she was still emotionally tied to him and those strings were going to have to fray and snap in their own time. But it was as much to do with the fact that the three of them had come all this way for a fresh start, a clean new sheet of paper, which they could fill with only good things. To rush headlong into the arms of the nearest man felt a bit weak, if that was the right word. They were supposed to be adventurers, brave badass fairies, Thelma and Louise with a happier ending. Although, to give Thelma her dues, she did get to boff Brad Pitt, so it wasn’t all doom and gloom.

‘Maybe he’s my Brad Pitt,’ Winnie said.

Both Frankie and Stella turned to stare at her and she realised that only the last bit of her train of thought had made it out of her mouth. ‘It’s too complicated to explain,’ she said, batting the air.

‘Your Brad Pitt?’ Stella said, ignoring her.

Winnie pulled her hat down over her eyes.

‘He kissed me.’

Frankie reached over and pulled Winnie’s hat back up again so they could see her face.

‘Jesse the grumpy neighbour kissed you?’

Winnie wondered why in God’s name she’d said it, and then in the same breath she was glad she had, because it had confused the hell out of her and these two women were her confidantes and her sisters. So she nodded, sitting up and crossing her legs, her drink cradled between her hands.

‘When? Where?’

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