“Go on—hit it.”

Tally glanced over her shoulder at Nerissa, who’d plonked herself on top of an old washing machine. “What if the roof falls in?”

“It won’t.” Nerissa rapped her knuckles against the peeling plaster. “Solid building, this. Been here for hundreds of years. Go on. It’s only an internal wall. Good for getting out your aggression.”

Tally grinned. She swung the sledgehammer and slammed it against the wall. A small crack appeared.

“Terrible,” Nerissa said. “Go on, Tally. Give it all you’ve got.”

Tally swung again and again until a hole appeared in the wall. She dropped the sledgehammer and peered through. “Wow, there’s tons of space back there. It’s going to make an amazing room.”

Nerissa jumped to the floor and picked up the sledgehammer. “We’ll be here all day. Move aside, weak little English girl. Let the tough Greek girl have a go.”

Tally laughed. “I can’t wait to see this.”

Nerissa took hold of the sledgehammer, one hand firmly gripping low on the handle, the other right behind the head. She twisted her body as though preparing to throw a discus. The sledgehammer smashed into the plaster. A large portion of the wall fell away, revealing the room behind.

Tally was about to make a joke about tough Greeks and weak English when a loud creak sounded above her. She glanced up in time to see an enormous crack speeding across the ceiling, almost like an upside-down earthquake, and then a huge chunk of plaster came crashing to the ground.

“Shit.” She covered her head with her arms as debris peppered her and Nerissa.

Once the dust cloud settled, their eyes met. The two girls fell about laughing.

“You’re a mad bitch,” Tally said. “You told me the roof wouldn’t fall in.”

“The roof is intact. That’s the ceiling.” Nerissa was still laughing as she shook the dust out of her hair. “Besides, you love being around a mad bitch.”

“You’re right, I do.”

Nerissa turned on the tap above the old, rusty sink. Brown, sludgy water spluttered before eventually running clear. She dampened a cloth. “Here,” she said, passing it to Tally.

Tally wiped her face and hands and ruffled her hair, coughing when she breathed in dust particles. She passed the cloth back to Nerissa then walked over to the huge hole in the wall and peered inside.

“Definitely the right decision to knock through, even though I’m wearing half the ceiling.”

“And I’m wearing the other half,” Nerissa said with a grin. “But you’re right. It will be a great space once we’ve finished with it.”

“Better get onto your builder friend and tell him the job is a little bigger than we first thought.”

“I’ll call later after I’ve cleaned myself up.”

Tally giggled. “Think they’ll let me in the hotel looking like this?”

Nerissa nodded. “This is a small island. Anything out of the ordinary will be talked about for weeks. Maybe months in your case.”

“Better get it over with then.”

“Want to come for dinner tonight?” Nerissa reached for a brush and began sweeping the floor.

Tally swiped her bag off the floor and shook the dust from it before slinging it over her shoulder. “Thanks, but no. All I want is a bath, a quick catch-up with Em, and bed.” She was halfway out of the door when she hesitated. “Nerissa?”

Her friend looked up from her vigorous brushing. “Yeah?”

“Thanks for everything. For letting me help with the refugees. For this place. It’s a bit of a building site, but once it’s done up, it will be a perfect little apartment.”

Nerissa shook her head. “It’s me who should be thanking you. If you hadn’t come along when you did, well, I’m not sure what I would have done. This place has been lying empty for years. Probably because it’s a death trap.” She grinned, and then her face fell. “Will you tell me how you ended up here? One day?”

Tally crossed the room and pulled her new friend into a warm hug. “I will. See you in the morning, partner.”

It took Tally ages to get all the dust and pieces of plaster out of her hair, leaving her hotel room a mess, but finally, she was able to sit on the balcony with a cup of tea and a sandwich. The last three weeks had been a whirlwind of activity. Getting the extension to the café underway. Meeting Nerissa, who was fast becoming a close and wonderful friend. Finding out that she also owned the space above the café, which Tally could move into once they’d renovated it to liveable standards.

She was so busy that most days she managed not to think about Cash. But once she had time alone, her mind inevitably turned to him, and she would allow herself five minutes to cry. Five. Not a second more.

She put her laptop across her knees and opened Google, typing the same words into the search bar that she had every night since she’d arrived on Safome: “Cash Gallagher.”

Several pictures of Cash appeared on the right-hand side of the page, underneath which was a short biography, all terribly familiar:

“Cash Gallagher, Tennis player. cashgallagher.com

“Cash Gallagher is a tennis professional from Northern Ireland. Formerly ranked number one, a recent car accident led to him retreating from public view.”

Underneath that were his date of birth, height, and number of Grand Slam victories.

Tally scrolled down the page.

“People also search for Miroslav Ilic, Anatoly Mishnev, Rachael Gallagher, Rupert Fox-Whittingham, Natalia McKenzie.”

The first time she’d seen her name there three weeks earlier, she’d almost had a heart attack, and the sight of it still caused her to snatch a breath. She’d clicked onto her name to find she had her own Wikipedia page in exactly the same format as Cash’s. The amount of information in the public domain had been shocking, although in hindsight, she shouldn’t have been surprised.

She ignored her own name this time and clicked onto the news tab. Nothing new. There were still no sightings of Cash. It was as if he had truly disappeared, removed himself from the world. There was lots of speculation, though. He’d died. He’d fallen back into a coma. He’d been abducted by aliens. Anything to fill up the web pages and sell newspapers, and all utter rubbish. Tally had no doubt that if Cash had died, she’d have heard the news directly one way or another.

Her thoughts turned to Em, and she reached for her phone. They hadn’t managed to catch up for a couple of days, and she missed their nightly talks.

“Hey, Shirley Valentine,” Em said when she answered the phone. “Thought you’d forgotten me.”

“Who on earth is Shirley Valentine?”

“It’s a cheesy eighties movie about a bored housewife who runs off to Greece to find herself. It was on some obscure TV channel the other night.”

Tally chuckled. “You really need to get out more. And I’m hardly here because I’m a bored housewife.”

“How are the renovations going?”

She peeled back the cellophane on her sandwich and took a bite. “Great. The extension to the café should be finished next week, and the apartment is coming along. We knocked down the wall between the living room and the kitchen today, and then the ceiling fell in. Nerissa and I got covered in dust and plaster.”

Em laughed. “Only you, Tal. But it’s going okay?”

“Yeah, it is.” A wave of empathy swept over her. “There’s something about helping those worse off than yourself that puts things into perspective.”

“Amen to that.”

“Do you know when you’ll be able to come over?”

“Going to be difficult this side of Christmas, babes,” Em said in an apologetic tone. “Party season and all that. It’s my busiest time.”

“Sure, I understand,” Tally said, swallowing a huge chunk of disappointment.

“But if we leave it until the new year, I should be able to come for a week. January is always shit for beauticians. Everyone’s skint and covered in unwanted body hair.”

Tally laughed. “Sounds good.”

“Rupe came round last weekend,” Em said

Tally sucked in a quick breath. “He did? How is he?”

“Same old Rupe. Was good to see him, though. I miss the old bugger.”

“Me too.” She sighed. “You didn’t tell him where I was?”

“What do you take me for? No, of course I didn’t tell him. He asked, though, several times. Seriously, I think I could stand up to torture after his grilling.”

“Did he mention Cash?”

“No. Bet he’s as miserable as you, though.”

“I’m not miserable.”

“Why don’t you call him?”

“No.”

Em exhaled a breath of frustration. “You two are both as bad as each other. Neither wants to be the one to blink first. And you know where that gets you? Singleton city.”

Tally rubbed her eyes. “It’s not that simple, Em. You weren’t there the night he threw me out, or when we got back from Paris. He would flip out over nothing.” She allowed the memories to slip into her mind. “One minute, he’d be unbelievably loving and attentive, the same Cash as always. The next, he’d be furious. Throwing things. Punching walls. Yelling at everyone, including his mother, Anna, Rupe. Me.”

“He’s hurting, babes. Must be so confusing for the poor sod.”

“Since when were you his biggest fan?” Tally said, trying to keep her tone calm. “It doesn’t matter anyway. According to the Internet, he’s disappeared.”

“What do you mean?” Em’s voice shifted up a notch.

Tally tossed her half-eaten sandwich in the waste bin and flopped onto the bed. “He hasn’t been seen in public for weeks.”

“So you’re still looking, then?”

Tally sighed. “Can’t help myself.”

“Give it time. If you do want to know where he is, I can ask Rupe.”

“No. Cash would have called me if he wanted me to know.”

“You changed your number.”

“That wouldn’t stop him. Remember how quickly he found me in Brighton? If he wanted to, he could. Like that.” She clicked her fingers even though Em couldn’t see her.

“Do you want him to?”

Tally frowned. “What makes you ask that?”

“Honestly, babes, I’m confused. This is Cash, your childhood obsession, adult reality, and the man you were going to marry. Yes, he clearly has anger issues, and you probably did right to leave that night, especially after he threw the vase, but maybe if you talk to him, you could persuade him to get some help.”

“I left because he doesn’t love me anymore,” Tally said, her voice breaking up.

“If you love him, you’ll fight for him.”

“There’s no point. I can’t make him love me.” She inhaled a shuddering breath. It didn’t matter how many times they had this conversation—she couldn’t make Em understand. “When the feeling has gone, it’s gone.”

Em paused. When she spoke, her voice had a slight tremor. “I’m worried how quickly you’ve put down roots in a place you barely know, hundreds of miles from home.”

“I know it sounds crazy, but I needed somewhere to ground me. Somewhere I could come to terms with losing him.” As tears threatened, she bit down on her lip. “It wouldn’t work in London. Not the way I’m currently feeling. I don’t plan on staying here forever, but right now, it’s good for me.”

“I only want to make sure you’re doing the right thing.”

“I am,” Tally said gently, smiling to herself at Em’s sigh of surrender.

“I just want you to be happy, babes.”

“Give me time. It’s so tranquil here, and the people are lovely. Once you come and see for yourself, you’ll understand.”

“I’ll need the break after a mad London party season,” Em said with a laugh.

“Speaking of parties, how’s David?” Tally said, jumping onto the change of subject.

“He’s fine,” Em said in a dreamy tone.

“Oh, come on. How long have you been seeing him now? Two weeks?”

“Three.”

“Exactly. A Fallon record.”

Em chuckled. “You make me sound like a right tart.”

“Nah. Just picky.”

“You’ve got that right.”

“But it’s going okay?”

Em hesitated. “I’m scared to jinx it, but I really like him, Tal. I can’t wait for you to meet him.”

“Don’t bring him out in January,” Tally said, inwardly cursing her selfishness.

“Not a chance. January is girl time. There will be plenty of opportunities for you two to meet.”

Tally yawned loudly. “I’m off to bed. Early start in the morning. I’m on breakfasts. I’ll call you in a day or so.”

“Make sure you do, Shirley,” Em said. Tally heard her giggle before the phone went dead.

She changed for bed and climbed under the covers. She reached for her phone, opened the photos app, and scanned through the hundreds of pictures of her and Cash—personal pictures that weren’t on social media or the Internet.

A searing pain speared her chest. She retrieved his number from her contacts, her thumb hovering over the eleven digits. What she wouldn’t give to hear his voice, the tone of his soft Northern Irish lilt causing a flash of desire to speed through her as he spoke her name.

She pressed the number but hung up before the connection was made. The craving to speak with him was overridden by fear. What if he repeated the horrible things he’d said? The longer she avoided calling him, the more she could keep hope alive that one day he’d realise he’d made a huge mistake and beg her to come back.

“Idiot,” she muttered to herself. Switching off the bedside lamp, she turned onto her side. Tomorrow was another day. She’d feel better after a good night’s sleep.

Of course she would.