Page 22 of Not in a Million Years

The steady hum of the tyres wavered for a second, and I saw Daniel’s knuckles whiten on the steering wheel.

Then he said, ‘Kate. This is Turkey. They drive on the right. Didn’t you wonder why you were on the far side of the oncoming traffic?’

My thudding heart stilled, the prospect of imminent death receded and I felt a flood of mortification. ‘Oh. God, of course. I’d forgotten. It was just kind of…’

‘Disorientating? Yeah, maybe. But, Kate…’

‘What?’

‘Please don’t ever do that to me again.’

‘Do what?’

‘Scare the living crap out of me when I’m driving. Because even though I knew I was right, you made me doubt myself for a second, and a second is quite enough, in motorway conditions, to cause a serious accident. Okay?’

I looked sideways at his face. It might just have been my imagination, but I could swear he’d paled a bit. The line of his jaw was tight, and his hands were still gripping the steering wheel harder than they needed to.

Who knew – Mr Cool could be rattled after all.

‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘Best behaviour from me from now on, I promise.’

His mouth softened into that almost-smile. ‘Bloody better be, or you can get out and walk.’

‘If your driving’s not up to scratch, I might well volunteer to.’

But Daniel drove skilfully, navigating the unfamiliar motorway, then following a sign to Alsaya and turning off onto a minor road. Darkness fell rapidly, and I could see little of our surroundings bar a few twinkling lights. The motion of the car lulled me, and I closed my eyes, feeling the deep fatigue of the sleepless night, early start and long journey wash over me.

I was woken by the car coming to a stop and Daniel announcing unnecessarily, ‘We’re here.’

My eyes snapped open and I released my seat belt, climbing stiffly out into the hot night. Ahead of me, I could see a brightly lit, stone-floored lobby, low buildings stretching out on either side of it. More palm trees bordered smooth pathways leading out in various directions, and in the distance I could see the darkness of water. For the first time, I caught the smell of the sea.

‘Get settled in then meet downstairs for dinner in half an hour?’ Daniel suggested.

Dinner. As if we were a couple on a romantic holiday together. I mean, obviously I’d known we would have to eat, but it hadn’t quite occurred to me that we’d do so together, or that we’d be spending pretty much all our time for the next… the next however long it took, in each other’s company. Daniel was right, I supposed – we were here for a reason, and we needed a plan.

We needed, however unwelcome it might be, to co-operate with each other on at least one level.

Just not yet. And certainly not over a candlelit table and a bottle of wine like we were on a fricking honeymoon or something.

‘Tempting as that offer is,’ I said, ‘I’m knackered. I think I’m going to order room service and get an early night.’

‘Suit yourself. Breakfast at eight?’

‘Sure.’ Breakfast was safe – there’d be no romantic vibes there. It would be like a business meeting. I might even bring a notepad and pen.

Daniel moved to heft our bags from the boot of the car, but a porter got there first. I followed them both into the lobby to check in.

Half an hour later, I was alone in my room, unpacked and showered, wrapped in a soft cotton bathrobe as I’d longed to be. I’d opened a bottle of pink wine from the minibar and was sitting on the balcony, looking out over a turquoise swimming pool. Lanterns sunk into the ground at regular intervals illuminated green lawns studded with olive and lemon trees. I could hear the rhythmic sigh of the sea and see the pinprick lights of boats out on the water.

And I could hear Daniel breathing. Not loudly – he wasn’t snoring like a walrus or anything like that. He was just sitting on his balcony, same as me. Only his balcony was just a few inches from mine, which of course meant he was just a few inches from me. Occasionally I could hear the clink of a glass as he set it down on the table, as I was doing. The head of my white muslin-draped four-poster bed was against the wall adjoining his, so we’d be as close as lovers, even in sleep.

I heard a discreet tap on my door and started, hurrying back through the cool, stone-floored room to answer, my heart hammering nervously even though I knew there was no way he could have teleported from his balcony to the corridor outside and come knocking on my door to… To what?

But it wasn’t Daniel – it was only the meal I’d ordered. I thanked and tipped the waiter, then carried the tray of cheese, fruit, olives and bread back out to the balcony. I’d chew quietly, I told myself, and if I didn’t, Daniel would just have to deal with it. But I could tell straight away that he was no longer there. The sense I’d had of his presence was gone; there was no more soft breathing and no more sounds of liquid glugging into a glass.

Presumably he’d gone out for food. Fair play to him. Hopefully he wouldn’t meet some tourist on the pull and keep me up all night shagging on the other side of the wall.

Ugh. The thought made me far more uncomfortable than it ought to have done. He was entitled to shag if he wanted to – it wasn’t like we were colleagues away on business together, and even if we had been – well, my own business trips hadn’t been entirely shag-free zones.

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