work for another hour before stopping for lunch. Perhaps then she’d explore the village properly. Apart from the short trip to Mum’s village—and what a disappointment that had turned out to be—she’d been too absorbed in her thesis to do more than go for a swim or a walk along the beach before breakfast and last thing at night. Besides, she needed to stock up on more provisions.
She’d been to the shop on the village square once to buy some tomatoes and milk and had had to endure the undisguised curiosity of the shopkeeper and her customers and she regretted not having learnt Greek properly when she’d had the chance to do so. Her mother had been a native Greek speaker but she had never spoken it at home and consequently Katherine knew little of the language.
However, she hated the way some tourists expected the locals to speak English, regardless of what country they found themselves in, and had made sure she’d learnt enough to ask for what she needed—at the very least, to say please, thank you and to greet people. In the store, she’d managed to ask for what she wanted through a combination of hand signals and her few words of Greek—the latter causing no small amount of amusement.
She glanced at her papers and pushed them away with a sigh. The warm family scene she’d witnessed had unsettled her, bringing back the familiar ache of loneliness and longing. Since her concentration was ruined, she may as well go to the village now. A quick freshen-up and then she’d be good to go. Walking into her bedroom, she hesitated. She crossed over to her bedside drawer and removed the photograph album she always kept with her. She flicked through the pages until she found a couple of photos of Poppy when she was six—around the same age as the little girl in the bay.
This particular one had been taken on the beach—Brighton, if she remembered correctly. Poppy was kneeling in the sand, a bucket and spade next to her, a deep frown knotting her forehead as she sculpted what looked like a very wobbly sandcastle. She was in a bright one-piece costume, her hair tied up in bunches on either side of her head. Another, taken the same day, was of Poppy in Liz’s arms, the remains of an ice cream still evident on her face, her head thrown back as if she’d been snapped right in the middle of a fit of giggles. Katherine could see the gap in the front of her mouth where her baby teeth had fallen out, yet to be replaced with permanent ones. She appeared happy, blissfully so. As happy as the child she’d seen earlier.
She closed the album, unable to bear looking further. Hadn’t she told herself that it was useless to dwell on what might have been? Work. That was what always stopped her dwelling on the past. The trip to the village could wait.
* * *
Immersed in her writing, Katherine was startled by a small voice behind her.
‘Yiássas.’
Katherine spun around in her chair. She hadn’t heard anyone coming up the rock steps but she instantly recognised the little girl from the bay. ‘Oh, hello.’ What was she doing here? And on her own? ‘You gave me a bit of a fright,’ she added in English.
The child giggled. ‘I did, didn’t I? I saw you earlier when I was with Baba. You were on the balcony.’ She pointed to it. ‘I don’t think you have any friends so I thought you might want a visitor. Me!’ Her English was almost perfect, although heavily accented.
Katherine laughed but it didn’t sound quite as carefree as she hoped. ‘Some adults like their own company.’ She gestured to the papers in front of her. ‘Besides, I have lots of work to do while I’m here.’
The girl studied her doubtfully for a few moments. ‘But you wouldn’t mind if I come and see you sometimes?’
What could she say to that? ‘No, of course not. But I’m afraid you wouldn’t find me very good company. I’m not used to entertaining little girls.’
The child looked astounded. ‘But you must have been a little girl once! Before you got old.’
This time Katherine’s laugh was wholehearted. ‘Exactly. I’m old. No fun. Should you be here? Your family might be worried about you.’
The child’s eyes widened. ‘Why?’
‘Well, because you’re very small still and most of the time parents like to know where their children are and what they’re up to.’ She winced inwardly, aware of the irony of what she’d said.
‘But they do know where I am, silly. I’m in the village! Hello, Hercules.’ The girl knelt and stroked the cat. Suddenly pandemonium broke out. It seemed her spaniel had come to look for her. He ran into the room and spotting the cat made a beeline for it. With a furious yowl Hercules leapt up and onto Katherine’s desk, scattering her papers, pens and pencils onto the floor. She grabbed and held on to the struggling cat as the dog jumped up against her legs, barking excitedly.
‘Kato! Galen! Kato!’ A stern male voice cut through the chaos. It was the child’s father—the boat man. God, how many other people and animals were going to appear uninvited in her living room?
The spaniel obediently ran over to the man and lay down at his feet, tail wagging and panting happily. Now the father’s censorious gaze rested on his little girl. After speaking a few words in Greek, he turned to Katherine. ‘I apologise for my daughter’s intrusion. She knows she shouldn’t wander off without letting me know first. I didn’t notice she’d gone until I saw her footprints headed this way.’ His English was impeccable with only a trace of an attractive accent. ‘Please, let us help you gather your papers.’
Close up he was overwhelmingly good-looking, with thick-lashed sepia eyes, a straight nose, curving sensual mouth and sharp cheekbones. Katherine felt another stab of envy for the blonde-haired woman. She lowered the still protesting Hercules to the floor. With a final malevolent glance at the spaniel, he disappeared outside.
‘Please, there’s no need...’
But he was already picking up some of the strewn papers. ‘It’s the least we can do.’
Katherine darted forward and placed a hand on his arm. To her dismay, her fingertips tingled where they touched his warm skin and she quickly snatched it away. ‘I’d rather you didn’t—they might get even more muddled up.’
He straightened and studied her for a moment from beneath dark brows. He was so close she could smell his soap and almost feel waves of energy pulsating from him. Every nerve cell in her body seemed to be on alert, each small hair on her body standing to attention. Dear God, that she should be reacting like this to a married man! What the hell was wrong with her? She needed to get a grip. ‘Accidents happen, there is no need for you to do anything, thank you,’ she said. Thankfully her voice sounded normal.
‘Yes, Baba! Accidents happen!’ the little girl piped up in English.
His response to his daughter, although spoken softly in Greek, had her lowering her head again, but when he turned back to Katherine a smile lighted his eyes and played around the corners of his mouth. He raked a hand through his hair. ‘Again I must apologise for my daughter. I’m afraid Crystal is too used to going in and out of all the villagers’ homes here and doesn’t quite understand that some people prefer to offer invitations.’
Crystal looked so woebegone that Katherine found herself smiling back at them. ‘It’s fine—I needed a break. So now I’m having one—a little earlier than planned, but that’s okay.’
‘In which case we’ll leave you to enjoy it in peace.’ He glanced at her ringless fingers. ‘Miss...?’
‘Burns. Katherine Burns.’
‘Katherine.’ The way he rolled her name around his mouth made it sound exotic. ‘And I am Alexander Dimitriou. I’ve noticed you watching from your balcony.’
‘Excuse me! I wasn’t watching you! I was working on my laptop and you just happened to be directly in my line of sight whenever I lifted my head.’ The arrogance of the man! To take it for granted that she’d been watching him—even if she had.
When he grinned she realised she’d let him know that she had noticed him. The way he was looking at her