Page 61 of Hot Greek Summer

Frankie screwed her nose up. ‘Isn’t that ridiculous? How can I have been stargazing with Seth Manson tonight?’ She paused, scratching her short, deep-red fingernails along the grooves of the driftwood table. ‘He nearly kissed me, just before the fire.’

‘Christ,’ Stella whispered. ‘Do you know how many women would literally kill right now to swap places with you?’

Frankie let out a nervous laugh. ‘Nothing happened, not really. We were just talking about life, and exes, and complications. Listening to him, I wouldn’t want to be famous; everybody around him has an agenda. He likes that I’m just normal, I think,’ she said, nodding towards the empty loungers on the edge of the beach. ‘We were sitting down there, and I turned to say something at the same time as he did, and suddenly we were nose to nose.’

Winnie clasped her hand over her heart. ‘I can’t bear that you didn’t get to snog your hero. One way or another, you have to do it tomorrow.’

Frankie laughed. ‘Maybe I’ll have a gin after we’ve tested out our batch and see where the Dutch courage gets me.’

They fell silent, and then Stella shot up onto her feet.

‘Shit! That sodding berry bush was on that side of the garden!’

It was burnt to a crisp.

‘Oh no,’ Winnie whispered, her hand over her mouth. ‘Ajax said it was sacred to the islanders.’

‘We’ll just have to grow another one,’ Stella said.

‘It was the only one on the island.’ Frankie huffed and shook her head. ‘Crap, this is really bad. They’re all going to blame us. It was supposed to be a symbol of good luck.’

‘How good is our current supply of berries in the cellar?’ Stella asked, quick-thinking as ever.

Frankie’s brow furrowed in thought. ‘Not great, I don’t think. We were supposed to harvest the berries in September, it only fruits once a year.’

‘Great.’

‘We could try using an alternative?’ Winnie said. ‘Strawberries are similar? Or blackberries?’

The others didn’t look convinced.

‘Let’s hope it doesn’t come to it,’ Stella said. ‘For now, let’s try to keep it under our hats that the bush was a casualty of the fire while we work out what we can do.’

Trooping wearily inside, they locked the doors and headed up to bed.

‘Christ, what’s that noise?’

Frankie was first through the kitchen door the next morning, throwing the bolt as Winnie and Stella schlepped behind her, not much after six o’clock. The noise sounded like a strangled cat, and was definitely coming from the garden.

‘Oh God, what if something was in the fire and we didn’t notice it in the dark?’ Stella said, cringing.

‘Or someone,’ Winnie said, hardly daring to look.

‘Oh crap,’ Frankie said, peering around the back door cautiously and then clicking it closed again before she was spotted.

‘Good news or bad news?’ she said.

‘Good?’ Winnie said, at the same time as Stella said, ‘Bad?’

‘Well, the good news is nothing died or got injured, as far as I can see.’

‘But …?’

Frankie opened the door again, wider this time so that they could all see out into the garden.

‘Hero?’ Winnie said. ‘Hero, what’s wrong?’

Their elderly cleaner was on her knees on the grass, wailing at the burnt-out scene before her.

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