Chapter 9

9

Hana closes the restroom door and crosses the restaurant, threading her way between tables packed with diners. She inhales the delicious smells, the air heady with the smoky char of meat, the resin note of the pines above. The strings of lights crisscrossing above illuminate half-empty wine bottles, glistening puddles of olive oil, and pillows of focaccia.

The view from here is otherworldly, the harsh blues of daytime sea and sky peeled away to reveal something softer and subtler. The distraction costs her: as she steps forward, she stumbles, ankle giving way as her sandal catches on the uneven stone.

Too much to drink , Hana thinks, feeling the fizz and spin of the alcohol. She's in the lovely phase of inebriation: her senses heightened so the air feels warm, liquid against her skin. It is liquid , she thinks, doing a double take, then realizes the heat of the grill pulling upward is making the air in front of her shimmer and wobble.

Despite that, the person standing to the left of the grill is clear: Seth. He's talking to one of the female members of staff, head thrown back in laughter. Typical Seth : his need to charm and flirt extended to waitstaff, anyone around him.

Whether it ever leads to anything more, Hana's not sure, but it shouldn't, she thinks, looking ahead at Jo, in conversation with Caleb, phone in hand.

She's dazzling tonight. A few drinks in and her face is relaxed, open, the black broderie anglaise dress emphasizing her sun-streaked hair and her tan. Their mother is half Swedish, and Jo had snagged most of the clichéd Nordic genes—blue eyes, blond hair, and also her mother's eclectic dress sense. The brightly colored wrap slung over her shoulders—with splotches of green and pink—would look over the top on Hana, but on Jo it somehow works. Doesn't overwhelm her.

"You were gone awhile." Maya smiles. "I was about to send out a search party."

"I—" But Hana doesn't get to finish her sentence. Jo's holding up her phone, playing something back. It's her , Hana realizes, as she'd tripped. Jo's managed to slow it down, Hana's expression of panic—wide eyes, mouth ajar—played back frame by ugly frame.

A broad grin spreads across Jo's face. Seth, back at the table, is also smiling.

"Sorry," Jo laughs, the green crescents of her wooden earrings lightly knocking her cheeks. "I was panning around to get some footage of the restaurant and..." She bursts into laughter again.

Hana looks at her, senses suddenly and painfully heightened. "You're not planning on putting that up, are you?" A flush crawls up her cheeks.

"No, of course not." Jo reaches a hand across the table. "God, you're not actually bothered , are you? I was only teasing."

Hana can't help but recoil from her touch. "Teasing..." But she stops as Maya catches her gaze: a warning shot. Don't react. She nods in assent. Maya's right. It'll be her who comes off worse if she snaps back.

It's at moments like this she wishes Liam were here. He'd have squeezed her hand under the table, changed the subject. It was what he was good at: empathizing, boosting people. It was one of the first things Hana picked up on when they met, at a birthday party.

Tall, dark, lightly muscled, she'd spotted him immediately, but when they spoke, she was surprised at how shy he was, an endearing lack of self-awareness of his attractiveness.

Later in the evening, they'd ended up around the fire pit in the back garden together. She watched in admiration as Liam stepped in to defend a colleague being grilled about why she didn't have kids. It touched Hana how he'd reacted, and they'd ended up chatting—one of those uninhibited drunken talks you can only have with strangers because you think you'll never see them again.

She came away from the night certain of two things: that she wanted to see him again, and that if she did, she'd end up on a mountain bike. Liam's biking obsession consumed at least half the conversation. Hana finds herself smiling at the memory, but then remembers. She has to nudge the thought away, an unwelcome visitor.

"I get it," Caleb says, looking at Hana. "Sometimes I wish we could roll back twenty years, have a meal the old-fashioned way."

"What did you say?" Jo nudges her chair closer.

"Just that all the video stuff, it's too much sometimes." Caleb shrugs.

Jo wearily shakes her head. "I've seen that look before. You think it's beneath you, don't you? Bea's said as much."

He frowns. "What do you mean?"

"I've seen Bea's posts on social media. All that naff pseudo-intellectual bullshit about TV shows and books. Bea never used to be like that. She always said that if you're truly intellectual, you don't feel the need to ram it down people's throats, what you read or watch worn like some bloody badge to prove how intelligent you are."

Caleb stiffens, mouth pressed together in a thin line. Jo's hit a nerve. He changes the subject. "You know, I read about this place before we came, thought it was probably a fuss about nothing, but when you're here, see the rock close up..." He cranes his neck so he can see past her. "It's got a presence, hasn't it?"

Seth nods. "It makes me think there's something to it, what people say."

"And what do people say?" Caleb mocks Seth's dramatic tone.

"That it's cursed, among other things. Not surprising given what's happened here over the years."

"Like?"

"The plague stuff, the old school burning down... Creacher... don't think I need to say anymore—"

"No, you don't," Maya interrupts. "While it makes for a good story, it's not exactly conducive to holiday vibes."

"Speaking of holiday vibes, I fancy another cocktail." Picking up the drinks menu, Jo reads aloud: " Sunset Sailor. Bacardi Oro, Diplomático, Angostura, pineapple, orange."

"Bea would love that," Caleb says, gesturing one of the waitstaff over. "She's in a cocktail phase at the moment. Even bought one of those shakers for home..."

"Wish Bea could have come," Hana murmurs when their drinks arrive a few minutes later. She takes a sip of hers. It's strong, heavy on the rum. "Not the same without her."

"Well, we'll toast her." Jo holds up her cocktail, the vibrant liquid catching the light. "To Bea."

Maya's the only one who doesn't raise her glass.

Hana glances at her, shocked to find Maya blinking back tears. "What's wrong?"

"It's not just Bea we're missing," Maya blurts out. "Sofia should be at things like this."

"Oh, God, of course." Hana squeezes Maya's hand, kicking herself.

"It just hits me, sometimes, what she's missing out on." Maya wipes her eyes.

Jo raises her glass again. "To absent friends..." Despite the sympathy on her face there's something dismissive in her tone. They drink in silence before Jo speaks again. "Shall we go to the beach in a bit?" She throws out a comment about whether they're too old for skinny-dipping.

The conversation quickly moves back to the jokey, lighthearted tone from earlier, but Maya's outburst has bothered Jo, Hana can tell.

It's as if Maya has caused a ripple in the evening Jo had planned, thrown a rock into the otherwise perfectly flat lake.