‘I’ve got a cousin,’ Philippa says doubtfully. ‘Other side of Warminster. I could give her a bell.’
‘Why don’t you do that? I can stay here and keep an eye on the place. And on Pye.’
‘Wouldn’t you be in danger?’
‘Why would I be? I’m just the paying guest. If anyone asks me, I’ll say that you’ve gone on holiday and left a contact number in, I don’t know, Spain or somewhere.’
‘And if they ring the number?’
‘Don’t worry. I’ll figure something out. But whatever you decide, I think you should get out of here. Today, preferably.’
‘Today?’
Eve shrugs. ‘Finbarr Williams certainly knows Tom’s out of hospital. He probably knows he’s come back here, too. Can you ring your cousin?’
‘I suppose so.’ Philippa picks up her phone and walks into the kitchen.
Eve and Tom look at each other. ‘I’m sorry,’ he says, placing his breakfast plate on the floor by the couch. ‘I’ve been a bloody idiot.’
Eve shakes her head. ‘Sometimes all that matters is to get out in one piece. Sometimes that’s enough. You don’t have to be the prosecution’s star witness against Finbarr Williams. Life isn’t Netflix.’
‘I owe it to mum to… try and put things right.’
‘Getting yourself killed isn’t putting anything right. You two need to think about each other.’
Philippa steps out of the kitchen, pocketing her phone. ‘I rang Linda. She can take us.’
‘Great,’ Eve says. From the corner of her eye, she watches Pyewacket approach Tom’s breakfast plate, extend a paw and draw a strip of bacon rind from the plate onto the carpet.
33
On theMedusa, Oxana dresses for dinner, exchanging her swimsuit for a midnight-blue satin Zara slip. Tonight, the Yilmaz family and their guests are dining on board, under the stars. Since the nightclub incident on Kytheria, they’ve only gone ashore twice. For lunch on Antiparos, and the following evening for dinner on the same island.
When she reaches the deck Oxana stands still for a moment, taking it all in. TheMedusais lying at anchor in a secluded bay. The sun has set and the sky is a deep indigo. A table has been set with white linen, silver cutlery, crystal glasses and flickering candles.
Inci and Tahir are standing at the rail, composed as if for a thirties photograph. She’s in ivory chiffon with starburst diamond earrings; he’s wearing a cream dinner jacket. They’re joined by Emir, and appear to be talking about Defne, frequently glancing at her as she stands, tall and sleek-haired, whispering to Buse. Nearby, Captain Özdemir and Atlas are standing in silence.
Seeing Oxana, Tahir steps away from the rail, drink in hand, and beckons her to join him.
‘I need to talk to you,’ he says, his voice lowered.
‘I’m listening.’
‘The other evening, on Kytheria, what exactly happened?’
Oxana considers. ‘It was exactly as I told you.’
‘Tell me again.’
‘Sure. We arrived at the club, and Defne and Buse split up. Defne went with Emir to dance, and I stayed in the cocktail bar, where Buse was sitting with a group of Russians.’
‘What sort of Russians?’
‘Drunk, steroid bodies, too much cologne.’
‘And then?’
‘Emir came back from the dance floor by himself, so I left him to keep an eye on Buse and went to find Defne. She was dancing with some guy and looked a bit confused and uncoordinated. She could have had too much to drink, but I’m pretty sure that wasn’t the reason.’