Page 32 of One Hot Summer

I looked at Zack, who seemed hesitant.

“Mum has suggested that we all go away together in September. They have a villa in Crete and were already planning to go for a month or two. It has four bedrooms, two living rooms, three bathrooms, and a tennis court. It’s a shared pool, but only with one other villa. Very close to the beach. We’d only need to pay for the flights. What do you think?”

“Don’t feel pressured,” Alistair said. “If you kids want your own holiday, that’s fine by us.”

“It’s very private,” Miranda said, clearly hoping we would join them. “And we wouldn’t need to be under each other’s feet. You can do your own thing when you like. All I ask is we try to eat together in the evenings. We had a new kitchen put in last year, but there is a barbeque too.”

“If you like lobster, you’ll like it even more on a barbeque,” Alistair said with a smile.

This sounded amazing. How could I refuse?

“That sounds like a great idea. I’d love to.”

Zack beamed.

“I’m so glad!” Miranda clapped her hands. Her smile stretched from ear to ear. “This calls for a toast. Shall we have one more drink before we call it a night?”

CHAPTER NINE

There was always a mid-week lull at work, right before the lunchtime rush where everyone in the vicinity who had a thirty-minute lunch-break wanted to rush to the council offices to report their problems of overgrown grass verges, loose flagstones on pavements, and complain that their neighbours were playing their music too loud and wanted me to personally visit to sort it out.

“Thanks,” I said, as Cheryl handed me a hot cup of tea.

“You’re welcome.” She took her seat next to me and looked to the empty waiting area. “Depressing this, isn’t it? Knew I should have booked the day off. Could have got a manicure or something. I might book a week or two off next month.”

“Not September,” I pleaded. “Me and Zack are going away for two weeks then, but I don’t know the exact dates so haven’t booked the time off yet.”

“Oh, that sounds exciting.” She swivelled her chair to face me. “Where are you going?”

“To Crete.” I blushed as I smiled. “His parents have a villa and have invited us to join them. He showed me photos of the place last night and it’s like a mansion. Absolutely stunning. I can’t wait.”

“Sounds very serious, holidaying with the parents. You kids are adorable.” She took a sip of her drink. “Ooh, this is hot. Uh-oh, we have a live one.” An elderly gentleman was walking down the corridor to the waiting area. The stick in his left hand looked older than he was, and I was worried it would snap from under him. “Bless him, it’s Mr Corby. He gets slower and slower every time. I wonder what non-council issue he wants to complain about this time.”

“I’ll see him if you want, you did it last time.” We usually took it in turns to see the regulars like Mr Corby. At his previous visit, what would usually have taken three to four minutes reporting a street light being out became extended to how things were back in his day when council workers gave no mind to health and safety regulations and would just climb a ladder to change a lamp. He had a point. Our own caretaker needed a certificate before he was allowed to repaint a wall inside the building, so that he couldn’t sue the council if he was poisoned by the fumes.

“No, no, I don’t mind. He’s sweet really, reminds me of my grandad. Hey, Mr Corby? Come on over, love.” She managed to catch him before he got to the chairs, which was good as he always struggled to get back up once he’d sat down.

I jumped as I heard my phone ringing. Luckily, the manager was nowhere to be seen, so I couldn’t be scolded for forgetting to put it on silent.

“I’ll be right back,” I whispered to Cheryl, as Mr Corby took his seat and I sneaked away.

I heard Mr Corby begin his rant about the neighbourhood children being too loud as I pushed open the door to the corridor and answered Sarah’s call.

“Hey, is everything okay?” Sarah wouldn’t normally call me at this time.

“He’s asleep,” Sarah squealed down the line.

“Who’s asleep?”

“My date.”

“Your… your date?” I glanced again at the time on my phone. “It’s not even lunchtime, what are you doing on a date?”

“It was the only time he could spare,” she huffed. “I took an early lunch-break for this and he’s bloody asleep. What do I do?”

“Okay, start again, you’ve totally thrown me here. Who are you with and why on a Tuesday morning?”

“The other night I was back on that dating app and everyone was just, well, gross. This guy called Piotr kept sending really crude messages and wanted me to send him nudes. Anyway, I thought, I’m not doing this. Dating apps are new-age rubbish, people used to actually meet each other in person once upon a time. You know, in the old days. So, I went to Lidl.”

---