Page 65 of Deep Blue Lies

SIXTY-FOUR

There’s a moment, after that, when I’m not sure if Sophia wants me to stay the night, or thinks I might want to.

But it’s not awkward, somehow. We don’t actually say anything about it, either of us, but I feel there’s an understanding.

That, whatever we might want now, there’s no way anything can happen between us, at least until I know who I am.

Or maybe I just imagine the whole thing. Either way, I leave soon after.

By the time I get back to my apartment that night, I already have three messages from Imogen.

The first two just tell me which airlines fly from the UK to Greece, and to which airports.

The third says she wants to fly direct if she can, because of how difficult the bus journey is from Athens.

I don’t know if I’m supposed to text back, to tell her it’s not that hard, but I reply in the end, just thanking her and saying I’m looking forward to speaking, but she replies almost at once with links to different hotels.

I figure she must be on some app on her phone and just sending me the links as she comes across them.

The texts keep coming, it seems she can’t find any rooms at such late notice, at least not at a price she can afford.

It’s late here, and I wonder about replying, reminding her that Greece is two hours ahead – and that this is super-weird behaviour and freaking me out – but instead I just put my phone onto “do not disturb” and try and get some sleep.

In the morning there’s another six messages.

At first it seems positive. She’s found a room, in a hotel that’s not that far from Skalio, and she’s actually booked it.

But then it seems there was a problem with the flight.

She filled in all the details but didn’t hit “book now” until she had the hotel taken care of, and then by the time she’d done that the flight had gone, and there weren’t any more seats until two days later.

It’s all a lot more than I need to know, and it’s hard to untangle what she’s actually managed to book, from all the details she’s given me.

But in the end I figure it out. She’s booked into the Aegean View Hotel a few miles east of Skalio, and she’s flying into the regional airport in Panachoria, the day after tomorrow.

Then I get a message to follow her on Instagram, which I do, even though I haven’t posted anything on my channels for ages.

And I see she’s put the details on there, with a link to the hotel.

It’s a kind of spa resort. It looks nice. But her words are weird. She says:

Heading back to Alythos. I always knew this day would come.

I speak with Hans next. I’m working the next three afternoons, but if I can move those times I could meet her at the airport – I sense she’d like that – but he says no.

The island is getting busier now. But when I text Imogen to say I can’t meet her she says not to worry, she never expected me to.

In the end we arrange to meet the day after she arrives, when I don’t have to work – she says it might be better that way anyhow, to give her a chance to settle herself. Whatever that means.

But the next two days drag. It’s just hard to be in the same space as people who are happy and enjoying their holidays, when I’m not here for that.

And when I’m also not part of the group of people who are working hard and playing hard.

I’m here on my own, private mission, and it’s kind of lonely.

Even if I am about to finally learn the truth. Whatever it might be.

Sophia is the only person who seems to understand.

In fairness, she’s the only person I’ve shared all of this with.

Or at least, almost all of it. I still haven’t told her about my suspicion that she might actually be Mandy Paul and Jason Wright’s baby.

But I do wonder if this is part of the secret that Imogen is going to share. And that’s kind of a heavy thought too.

On the afternoon of her arrival, I can’t help but look up in the sky.

I’m clearing glasses at the time, in Bar Sunset.

From there you can see the planes circling above Skalios Bay as they come in to land at Panachoria.

I don’t know if it’s actually her plane of course.

But I see one, the orange livery of EasyJet clearly visible in the vivid blue sky.

I stop what I’m doing to watch. From here, Panachoria is hidden behind the mountains that make up the spine of Alythos, so from my angle it looks as if the plane is flying into the mountain.

And when it disappears it’s easy to convince yourself that actually it’s crashed, and everything she knows, everything she’s going to tell me, has just blown up in a fiery ball of flame.

But, of course, it hasn’t. I check on my phone the airport’s arrivals page, which updates a couple of minutes later to say the London flight has landed.

And then I get another text from Imogen.

Landed! Now I need a taxi. And a ferry! We’ll arrange a place to meet when I’ve settled in!