‘Of course. I know just the suit for you. Come this way.’ Millie bustled up a short flight of timber stairs to another level and a long passageway. ‘What was that about heels?’ she asked, glancing over her shoulder.
‘He was having a joke at my expense,’ Sophie admitted. ‘I thought I had to walk down to the beach for a swim and I used my shoes as an excuse. I didn’t realise there was a pool.’ She didn’t admit she was trying to avoid swimming with Daniel full-stop, but if he was busy with calls maybe she could get in a quick dip now. She could surely do with a cool down to dispel some of this heat.
Millie chuckled. ‘He has a way with him, that one. There is a path down, and the beach is just beautiful. Get Daniel to show you. But, yes, preferably when you’re wearing flat shoes.’
Sophie smiled her thanks. As much as the beach looked special, she was sure she wouldn’t be around long enough for a personal inspection.
But that didn’t stop her appreciating the house itself with its high-ceilinged rooms, cool timber floors and a wall of windows that brought the magnificent view inside. ‘It’s always nice when Mr Caruana brings a friend home,’ Millie offered as she led the way. ‘I tell him it’s not natural for one man to rattle around a big house like this all by himself. I keep telling him he has to settle down one day.’
The house was indeed enormous, wrapped around a hillside so you couldn’t see from one end to the other—although why would you want to look anywhere but at the view, which changed with every angle, a view now complemented by the crystal-clear infinity pool that bordered the decking. An aqua plunge-pool lay at one point that a casual living-area wrapped around.
But Millie’s words settled heavily on Sophie as she followed her into a bedroom that looked out over treetops to aquamarine waters and the mainland coast beyond. Friend. The housekeeper assumed she was Daniel’s latest girlfriend. ‘We’re not actually friends. Not like that, I mean. I’m just waiting for Monica to call from Honolulu. I’m organising her wedding.’
‘Monica’s getting married?’ The housekeeper abandoned her rummaging in the fitted wardrobe and turned around, delighted. ‘Well, I never! That is exciting news. Who’s the lucky man?’
‘My brother, Jake, actually.’
Millie smiled broadly. ‘Then you’re much better than a friend. You’re practically family.’ She returned to the surprisingly well-stocked closet. ‘Now, let’s see, there’s a colour in here that would suit you perfectly. Where is it?’
‘Who owns all these clothes?’ she said, looking around, wondering about the guest room with its high bed, snowy-white comforter and cupboard brimming with clothes.
‘They’re just spares, really. Handy in case Monica drops by with friends.’
Sophie could see Monica used the room sometimes. There were pictures of her on a dressing table. One of her in bathers at the beach. Another in school uniform, grinning self-consciously, trying not to show her braces. She smiled at that one. She remembered the ignominy of braces herself. Only for two years, but at the time it had seemed like an eternity of humiliation. And she’d resented it so much she’d never really thanked her mother for doing all those hours of overtime so she could afford to pay for them.
She put the photo down, lip stuck firmly between now perfectly aligned teeth. God, she missed her mum. Thank heavens Jake had found her after her death. It was one thing to be independent, rational and aloof, but it could be lonely.
There was another photo, but Sophie didn’t recognise who it was. She picked up the silver frame. A pretty girl with laughing eyes looked out at her, her long blonde hair whipping around her face as she blew a kiss to the camera.
‘Ah, here we are,’ said Millie from behind her. ‘Try this one for size, and there’s a matching sarong. I’ll fetch you a towel.’
Sophie turned, caught the gleam of sapphire-and-gold coloured fabric on the bed and smiled appreciatively. It was a rich, sumptuous pattern, and with a sarong to cover her she wouldn’t feel quite so undressed. ‘Thank you, Millie, it’s lovely. By the way, who’s this—do you know? One of Monica’s friends? I don’t think I’ve met her, although I’ve met the girls she’s asked to be bridesmaids.’
Millie drew close and took the picture from her, giving the glass a gentle dust with a cloth she pulled from a pocket in her apron, her smile now sad. ‘A good friend of Daniel, apparently. Died in tragic circumstances. Daniel can’t bear to have the photograph where he can see it, but he can’t bear to put it away, so it hides in here where he’s unlikely to come across it. Pretty little thing, wasn’t she? I sometimes wonder if…’