The House of Hidden Letters

There was a second door in the kitchen, which led outside, a brass key on the sill that opened it. Skye went into what she supposed was her garden—a rectangular waste ground hemmed in by tumbledown stone wall. It would need to be repaired, the weeds pulled up and the numerous heaps of what looked concerningly like animal droppings cleared away. She could not fault the view, however, and stood for a few moments to admire the sweep of mountain set against its cobalt backdrop, the confetti-like smatter of pale rooftops, and the faraway ribbon of sea beyond. A church was perched high on a distant cliff, pure white and softly edged, reminiscent of a fallen cloud.

The enormity of her decision astounded her afresh, though Skye knew that regardless of how much work was required, being on Folegandros was preferable to the alternative. She could never return to the place she had left behind.

A light breeze shifted the leaves of an overhanging tree, and the sun broke through with dazzling clarity. Turning back toward the house, Skye bent to retrieve one of the fallen rocks from the ground and held it in her hands, feeling its warmth, the uncompromising strength of it. As the sound of bells began to ring out across the hillside, she took the stone and slid it back into the wall.

All that was broken, she would rebuild. One small piece after another.

CHAPTER TWO

Lottery wins did not happen to people like her.

That had been Skye's first thought when the email arrived, her second was that she must have fallen afoul of an elaborate hoax. She called the number provided with disbelief, and only when the man on the other end calmly confirmed that, yes, she was one of the six who had been selected, and no, he was not a fraudster who'd somehow hacked the entry list, did Skye accept that it was real.

After that, she'd had a month to make the necessary arrangements, though with no job to resign from and only a meager collection of possessions to pack, the only real task on her to-do list had been sourcing the means with which to fund her new life, and that sizable hurdle had come close to unraveling her completely.

Relief in having made it to the island had diluted any excitement she might otherwise have felt, but as the first hour slid by, Skye began to feel the tingles of something close to pleasure. The house was hers, every roughened stone and cracked tile of it. The wildflowers spilling out between the gaps in the walls were hers, as were the old latches on the internal doors, the stained marble basin in the bathroom, and the dappled glass in the window frames. She hummed to herself as she moved from room to room, a pad in hand on which she jotted down a list of jobs that would need to be done, furniture that would need to be purchased, holes that would need to be filled.

Sometime later, when she was in the process of inflating the single air bed that she'd mercifully thought to bring, a knock sounded at the door. Skye crossed to the window and peered down, immediately recognizing the broad shoulders of Andreas. He had returned sooner than promised and was holding two large carrier bags.

Scribbling security chain? at the end of her steadily growing list, she went downstairs to see what he wanted.

"Geiá sou, hello." Andreas held up one of the bags. "I have brought you a kettle, some coffee, milk, and a little sugar."

"Oh, wow." Skye thawed slightly. "You didn't need to do that."

Andreas reached into the second bag and produced a toaster.

"I had a spare one at home," he said when she started to protest. "Éla re, take it."

"I don't know what to say." Skye opened the door a fraction wider. As well as the kitchen appliances, Andreas had brought two chipped mugs, a selection of cutlery and basic utensils, a rather burned-looking frying pan, and some sort of plug-in stick blender.

"For making frappé," he said as she examined it. "You will not fool people that you are a real Greek unless you learn how to make proper coffee."

"I can pay you for all this," she offered, but he shook his head.

"We are living on the same island now. We are friends, and in Greece, we look after our friends."

Skye's mind went fleetingly to her previous neighbors, their collective gazes dropping to the pavement as she'd passed them, twitching curtains that had remained resolutely shut.

"Thank you," she said haltingly to Andreas. "This is really kind of you."

He lifted a dismissive hand. "Do you have anything to eat? Klodi closes his shop at three o'clock." Extracting a mobile phone from the back pocket of his jeans, he squinted at it and grimaced. "The taverna will open in a few hours, and—"

"It's OK," she assured him. "I have bottled water, and now coffee, thanks to you. I'll survive until morning."