Free The Holiday by Erica James Page A

morning, but hadn’t dared for fear of making Laura think that she might be interested in him. In fact, she wasn’t quite sure what to make of him. His attractiveness, much heralded by Laura, was everything she had been led to expect, but what lay beneath the glamorous image? Take away the stylish clothes, the trappings of his affluent lifestyle and the affectations he must have spent years cultivating, the boyish vanity and gregarious charm, and what would you be left with? What was he really like when he wasn’t intent on making an impression on those around him?
    In answer to her question, Laura said, ‘Oh, he’s nice, all right. Fatally so, I should think. Now, here’s another friend I want to introduce you to. Max and I have christened him Neddy.’
    Disappointed, Izzy acquainted herself with a tired old donkey. He was a sad, spindly-legged creature with a leathery, sagging body that clung to a frame of jutting bones. Like Zac, he, too, was going nowhere and was securely tied. ‘The locals don’t take very good care of their animals, do they?’ Izzy said, as Laura delved into her bag again and this time brought out a carrot.
    ‘It’s a different culture,’ Laura responded, patting Neddy’s dusty coat. ‘They can’t afford to be sentimental over animals like we are at home. Here they’re kept for one purpose and one purpose only. To work.’
    ‘And when they’re too old to work?’
    ‘An all-too-short retirement awaits them. Which is what Neddy’s enjoying. Aren’t you, old boy?’ She flicked away the flies that were buzzing round the sores near his rheumy eyes and gave him another carrot.
    They carried on walking, and as the olive trees receded, houses appeared and the path joined a narrow lane of tarmac that twisted and turned its way down the hill into Kassiópi. Cats lay dozing in the sun on the side of the road, and in the shade of an open doorway, two elderly women sat gossiping on kitchen chairs, their stockinged and slippered feet resting on an upturned plastic crate. In the house next door, a baby lay sleeping contentedly in a pram while its mother watered the flowers in the terracotta pots on the spotless doorstep.
    Izzy had expected Kassiópi to be busy and was surprised to find the streets deserted and quietly slumbering in the heat. ‘Where is everybody?’ she asked, when Laura suggested they make their way down to the harbour.
    ‘Frying on the beach. That’s why I like coming here at this time of the day. There are no jostling crowds of holidaymakers. Now, before I forget, just let me nip in here and get Max his paper.’ Leaving Laura to hunt through the revolving racks of British, German and Italian newspapers, Izzy explored the rails of fake designer T-shirts and leather belts.
    ‘He’ll just have to make do with the Express,’ Laura said, when she rejoined Izzy. She showed her what was headline news back home. ‘Mother of Two Absconds with Schoolboy Lover.’
    ‘Good Lord, whatever possessed the silly woman?’ said Izzy.
    Laura laughed. ‘Not everyone is as cautious as you, Izzy.’
    ‘Obviously. But she must be mad to do it — the press will crucify her. They’ll turn her into a latter-day Lucrezia Borgia.’
    ‘If she isn’t one already. Come on, let’s head for a drink and a bite to eat.’
    The taverna Laura chose overlooked the picturesque horseshoe-shaped harbour where, in the sleepy afternoon peace, brightly coloured boats of varying shapes and sizes bobbed at anchor. A young waiter took their order and, within no time at all, they were relaxing in their chairs beneath a yellow and white striped awning with two plates of kalamári in front of them and a carafe of red wine to share.
    ‘So, apart from thinking that Theo was rather nice,’ said Laura, passing Izzy her napkin, ‘what else did you conclude from last night?’
    Izzy smiled to herself. So, what she had said about Theo back in the olive grove hadn’t gone unnoticed by Laura. ‘That it must be the