That evening, Lexi climbed from the taxi first, a casual olive dress grazing her bare ankles, hair loose over her tanned shoulders. The others followed, chatting and laughing as they gathered by the harbour. A briny scent lifted from the oil-filmed water. Fishing boats and tourist catamarans were tied to dock pilings, decks cleaned and emptied, wooden clapboards set out advertising the next day’s snorkelling excursions.
‘Let’s find a taverna,’ Robyn said.
Bella, clasped in a peacock-blue dress, linked her arm through Lexi’s, then sashayed ahead. She said something, cinching Lexi’s arm tighter, shoulders shaking as she laughed.
Ana followed with Eleanor, feeling a surge of optimism about the evening: sunset beers and delicious food lay ahead. Talk was of the yacht trip, the food they’d order at the taverna, the sunburn on Robyn’s shoulders, the promise of finding somewhere to go dancing later.
A church bell rang from within the Old Town. She glanced towards the high white walls dripping with bougainvillea. Two stray dogs bounded across the road in chase, tails between their legs.
‘Oh!’ Lexi and Bella had come to a halt. ‘What a shame!’ Lexi said.
The others stopped, following the direction of her gaze. The small cluster of tavernas on the waterside was shrouded by a dark plume of smoke churning from a road-worker vehicle. A gaping hole had been drilled into the concrete and large pipes were being funnelled into the earth.
Ana caught the sulphuric fume of sewage.
‘That stinks,’ Bella said, covering her nose.
‘Plenty of tavernas in the Old Town,’ Eleanor said. She was wearing her uniform of shorts and a T-shirt, but Ana was pleased to see her new leather handbag hooked over a shoulder.
‘It’s just through the stone archway, there,’ Ana said, pointing. On impulse, she linked her arm through Eleanor’s, and the two of them steered the way.
Flanked by this group of women, and abuzz at being part of something, she felt suddenly giddy with the novelty of new friendships, holiday freedoms, sunshine. She’d never had a circle of women friends or let herself enjoy the easy frivolity of nights out. She wondered how she appeared to passers-by – moving as part of a pack, the click of heels across cobbled pavements, the peal of laughter, the scent of after-sun and perfume lifting from their skin.
Maybe a stranger would be fooled into thinking Ana belonged here. That she was simply one of the girls.
And what would be the harm in that?
The dangerous part, Ana realised, was that she was beginning to believe it herself.