Page 61 of Not in a Million Years

Daniel was waiting outside the reception area, his backpack at his feet.

He handed me something wrapped in a white paper napkin. ‘I saved you one of those spinach pastry things you like from breakfast.’

‘Thanks, but I’m not hungry.’

‘Maybe not now, but I one hundred per cent guarantee you will be in about half an hour. Better for you to eat this than chew your own hand off.’

I knew he was right. Reluctantly, I tucked it into my bag, but I didn’t smile at his lame joke.

‘Shall we settle the bill?’ I asked.

‘Done it already.’

‘But what about—’

‘It’s okay, Kate, we can sort it out when we’re home. Want me to carry your stuff to the car?’

‘I can manage. It’s got wheels, you know.’

Still, once he’d opened the boot and stowed his own bag, Daniel lifted mine up for me and slotted it in. Then he walked round to the passenger side and opened the door for me.

‘I can manage. I’ve got hands, you know,’ I said.

He turned away, just too late to conceal the smile that had flashed over his face. Then he got in the driver’s side and started the car.

‘Well,’ he said. ‘Sayonara, Alsaya. Or should I say “Gule gule”?’

Smug git. In the two weeks we’d been here, he’d learned how to say loads of things in Turkish, from ‘May I have a mushroom omelette please?’ to ‘He’s always complaining about doing his physio’, while I was pretty much stuck on ‘Hello’ and ‘Thank you’.

I fastened my seat belt, and Daniel swung the car out through the stone gateposts. I looked behind me for the last time at the low, pale-gold buildings, the riotous magenta blanket of the bougainvillea, the glimmer of the sea beyond. Meridia was still at anchor, gleaming white against the blue sky. I wondered if there’d be another party on board soon, another ill-judged drunken shag, another woman heading home with a heart full of regret.

At the hospital, it was all action stations. Andy had already been helped out of his private room and was lying on a stretcher in the corridor. His luggage had been fetched from wherever it had been stored for safekeeping, and a nurse was ticking items off a list on a clipboard. The consultant, Hakan and a paramedic were conferring earnestly in Turkish over a tablet.

Andy should have been the centre of attention, but he wasn’t. All that remained now for the staff who’d cared for him twenty-four/seven was to complete their administration, hand him over to the team that would be looking after him on the flight home and see him on his way.

‘Now I know how cows feel when they get loaded up to be taken to the abattoir,’ he said when he saw us.

‘They won’t get much of a rump steak off you, mate,’ Daniel commented. ‘You should’ve worked harder at your physio.’

‘Mistress Whiplash is very proud of me, I’ll have you know. I got her a bunch of flowers to say thanks. If I ever get back to full working order, I’ll declare the Leyla Turan memorial shag under way.’

‘I’m sure she’ll be honoured,’ I said. ‘Will you send her a video?’

‘She already follows me on TikTok,’ Andy said smugly. ‘We’re basically new bessie mates. What’s up with you anyway, Katie babe? You look like you’re the one that drove into a mountain, not me.’

‘Yeah, I’m kind of tempted to check myself in,’ I joked. ‘Next-level hangover. Next time someone invites me to a party on a yacht, I’ll say I’m washing my hair.’

‘I’ll keep that in mind,’ Daniel said, unsmiling.

Andy’s eyes swivelled from him to me.

Damn it, I thought. That came out snappier than I meant it to. And then I thought, Come on, Kate. Either you want to be all friendy-friends with him or you don’t. Make up your mind.

‘You can come in the ambulance with me instead, if you like?’ Andy said. ‘It’s highly exclusive. They say there’s only room for one.’

‘Well, since I’m the only one who can drive the car back to the airport, that’s a done deal,’ said Daniel.

‘Unless you’d rather I…’ I began.

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