Page 4 of Suzie's Santorini Summer

‘Run! Now!’

She glanced at Beckie who wrinkled her nose in confusion, then she turned to look over her shoulder, and to her horror she saw six former racehorses galloping towards them. Their heavy hooves pounded the ground, kicking up clumps of grass and soil as they thundered through an open gate and into the glamping site before separating; half of them making a beeline for Jules’ yurt and the rest heading straight for Suzie’s tepee.

‘Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!’ Suzie cried.

‘Come on, Suzie, let’s go!’ Beckie released Suzie’s arm and started to run for the safety of the gate where Holly and Rachel – and now Jules, Elspeth and Chloe, and a couple of the other residents from the glamping site – were all calling for them to make a run for it before they were trampled to death. But Suzie spun round on her heels and sprinted in the opposite direction.

‘Where are you going?!’ shouted Beckie.

‘Archie! He’s in the tepee! I can’t—’

Suzie covered the twenty or so metres back to her tepee in record time and scooped a still-sleeping Archie into her arms. Whispering soothing words in his ear, she then dashed across the field to where her relieved friends were waiting for her, just in time to watch the rampaging horses collide first with Jules’ yurt, and then with her beloved tepee, wrenching the guy ropes from their moorings and tearing the door flap from its stitching.

The structure collapsed immediately, her precious belongings flying in every direction; her blankets torn, her crockery smashed, her clothes trampled by pounding hooves. Whinnying with delight at the destruction they had caused, the horses then heading off to assist their equine friends to complete their demolition of Jules’ yurt, followed by Opal’s bell tent, but thankfully they chose to spare Elspeth’s shepherd’s hut and the little wooden cabin Quinn had spent months building.

Beckie and Chloe moved forward in unison, sliding their arms around Suzie’s waist as she stared slack-jawed at the carnage in front of her. Hot tears gathered along her lashes, and she was barely able to compute what her eyes were telling her to believe. It was like she was watching a scene from a movie – adisastermovie – except there was no mistaking the reverberation of the ground beneath her feet, nor the rich, earthy aroma permeating the air.

She clutched Archie to her chest, his heightened heartbeat reflecting her own, and she saw that Holly had done the same with Max who was also clearly distressed by the commotion. Thankfully, Ariel seemed to be taking the incident in her stride and remained on protective duty next to her owner, emitting the occasional low growl of warning.

‘Oh, thank God!’ said Rachel, pointing to her left. ‘Look, there’s Rory!’

They watched as the owner of the farm and glamping site, along with two members of his staff, stepped bravely into the melee, settling the horses with well-practised techniques, whispering soft platitudes until the animals acquiesced to being led back to their paddock after their mid-morning antics, without even a backward glance at the trail of destruction they’d left in their wake.

For several minutes, a heavy silence wrapped its tendrils around the gathering as each one of them tried to come to terms with what had just happened; shocked at how the ambient peace and tranquillity created by their early morning exercise class could have been disturbed in such a violent way.

‘I… I wonder what spooked the horses?’ said Suzie.

‘Could have been anything,’ Rachel mused.

‘Do you think it has anything to do with the person I saw lurking in the woods earlier?’ Suzie ventured.

Suddenly, she was gripped by an uncontrollable bout of trembling as her thoughts cleared enough for her to realise that, for the third time in the space of a year, she had lost everything she owned; all the wonderful treasures she had hand-picked and found the perfect place for. Tears trickled down her cheeks, but she brushed them away, clenching every muscle in her body as she tried to prevent the cruel demon on her shoulder from muttering the words she had heard repeated so many times since her life had imploded on that fateful day in London.

It's your fault.

Fortunately, before she tumbled down that particularly bleak and painful rabbit hole, Holly came to her rescue by suggesting they regroup at the Fox & Fiddle. Before Suzie knew what was happening, she and Archie were bundled into the back seat of Oscar’s Volvo and they were heading to what had been Blossomwood Bay’s cosy village pub before difficult trading conditions, coupled with poor management, had forced it to close its doors to thirsty patrons.

As Suzie watched the picturesque Devonshire countryside flash past her window, she felt strangely numb, as though the events of that morning had happened to someone else, and that she had simply accepted her friend’s kind invitation to have coffee – and maybe one of Oscar’s home-made ginger cookies – with her, along with Rachel, Beckie and Chloe, who were following on behind in Rachel’s bright yellow 4X4.

Ten minutes later, they pulled into the weed-strewn car park between the Fox & Fiddle and Blossomwood Kennels, whose previous owner had fled to Spain after a catalogue of health and safety breaches had been discovered. Holly jumped from the driver’s seat, hooked her arm through the handles of her over-sized sports bag, and unclipped Ariel and Max from their restraints.

‘Why don’t you go grab a seat on the patio over there while I let Oscar know we’re here? I’ll rustle up a cafetière of coffee for us, and a bowl of water and some doggie treats for Ariel, Max, and Archie.’

‘Okay.’

Suzie eased herself slowly from the back seat, feeling as though she’d been hit by a runaway juggernaut. However, despite the turmoil swirling through her head, when she saw the pub’s freshly whitewashed façade, she couldn’t help but smile. It seemed Oscar had made a flying start on turning the abandoned building into the restaurant he’d dreamed of owning since he was a child, one which he was determined would “utilise the freshest of ingredients, sourced locally, and cooked to perfection”.

She knew the restaurant would be a huge success, the kind of place discerning diners would flock to, not only to sample the amazing food prepared by a celebrity chef with his own TV show, but also for the sweeping views of Blossomwood Bay. She dropped onto one of the weather-blistered benches in what had once been the Fox & Fiddle’s beer garden and switched her gaze to the collection of ramshackle wooden buildings in front of her.

Her heart gave a nip of sadness. What a sorry sight.

It wasn’t just the broken roof tiles, the doors hanging from their hinges, and the general air of abandonment, but also the discomforting absence of the cacophony of yipping, yapping, and barking that had always accompanied her previous visits. All she could hear now was the rustle of the leaves on the sycamore trees that concealed the entrance to the “secret” driveway that led to Blossomwood Manor – the house Dexter Hawkins lived in when he was in the UK – and a lone bee bouncing amongst the tangle of clematis that clung to the sides of an old gazebo.

‘Suzie, there you are! Holly’s just told me what happened. I’msosorry!’

Oscar placed a tray containing a large glass cafetière and six coffee mugs – along with a plate of just-from-the-oven biscuits – onto the table and drew Suzie into his arms, the acerbic aroma of paint stripper winning the battle for supremacy against the spicy ginger of the cookies and the richness of the freshly ground coffee.

She opened her mouth to say something, to thank Oscar for his concern, but no words ensued, and she was forced to swallow down hard on the lump that had formed in her throat. Thankfully, she was saved from having to come up with a suitable response to his solicitude by the timely appearance of Rachel’s Land Rover in the car park. To Suzie’s surprise, only Rachel and Beckie alighted and made their way to the former beer garden where they too were treated to a welcoming embrace from Oscar before he excused himself to rendezvous with his paintbrush.

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