A Greek Affair

A division of HarperCollins Publishers

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HarperImpulse

an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

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London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2018

Copyright © Linn B. Halton 2018

Cover illustrations © Shutterstock.com

Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2018

Linn B. Halton asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008324476

Ebook Edition © December 2018 ISBN: 9780008324469

Version: 2018-11-30

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Prologue

Wake Me Up, I Must Be Dreaming

Back to Reality

A New Routine

I’m in the News

The Word is Spreading

All Aboard

A Floating Mirage

Don’t Judge a Book by its Cover

The Morning After the Night Before

A Night of Stars

It’s Time to Head Home

Hitting the Ground Running

No Pain, No Gain

A Magical Setting

Going Greek

The Promise of a Beautiful Day

A Day Trip to Paradise

A Surprising Turn of Events

The Main Attraction

The Magic of Athens

A Mortal Hero Amongst the Greek Gods

As Night Descends

Just Two Lonely People

On the Tourist Trail

One Blink and They’re Gone

Home Alone

The Visit

The Aftermath

Life is a Rollercoaster

The Action Plan

Working All Hours

Filled with Both Dread and Excitement in Equal Measure

A Goodnight Kiss

Retracing Our Steps

One Enchanted Evening

How Do You End Such a Perfect Night?

Some Goodbyes Are Harder Than Others

Picking Up the Pieces

I Am Woman, Hear Me Roar

I’m Nobody’s Fool

Only a Fool Would Get in my Way

The Heart Instinctively Knows When You’ve Found The One – Doesn’t It?

The Letter

Facing Facts

A New Day and the Sky is Blue, Not a Cloud in Sight

Epilogue

Also by Linn B. Halton

Acknowledgements

About the Author

About HarperImpulse

About the Publisher

For Billy, Lily, Joe and Maddie – twinkle, twinkle little stars!

You inspire every single moment of every single day.

Love you always and forever x

‘Antonio, we’re back,’ I call out, kicking the door shut with the heel of my boot.

Juggling Rosie on one side and groceries on the other, I drop the carrier bags down with a soft clunk on the worktop, then deposit the little one on the floor. I hope that sound of glass on tin doesn’t mean there’s an imminent chance of a wine puddle. Yanking the bottle out to check, I see that it’s still intact. Phew! I could have fallen at the first hurdle as wine is a key component in my little plan.

Tonight, I’m planning on having a romantic evening with my husband. I’m going to insist that we watch a film together and relax a little, once Rosie is asleep. Assuming she settles before I come back down to find him snoring on the sofa, like so many nights recently. But then he’s out as much as he’s in these days due to work pressures. I worry that he’s running himself into the ground and I hate that he steadfastly refuses to talk to me about it.

I look down at little Rosie, levering herself up on the vegetable rack so she can grab hold of a carrot.

‘Yum, Rosie. Carrots are good for you.’ I make an encouraging face and she stuffs the end into her mouth, then grimaces. It’s hard not to laugh.

I sweep her up into my arms, settling her back on my hip and head off to see what Antonio is doing. He said he was working from home today but he’s very quiet.

‘Let’s go find Daddy, shall we?’ Rosie looks up at me and grins.

‘Dada,’ she replies, waving her carrot. If only I could get her to actually eat one, I’d be delighted.

Walking into the upstairs office something doesn’t look quite right and I stop to gaze around. Why has Antonio been tidying up when he said he was going to be busy? He gave me a grateful hug when I said I’d take Rosie off to do the shopping to give him some peace and quiet.

His laptop isn’t on the desk and his work diary isn’t there, either. Nor his briefcase. Ah, I expect he’s been called into work. I just assumed he was still here and that his car was in the garage.

‘Daddy’s gone to work, Rosie.’ Little eyes look up at me and she frowns. But as I continue to scan the room a cold feeling starts to wrap itself around my core.

Rosie wobbles but I clasp her to me as I rush into the bedroom, pulling open the wardrobe door adjacent to the bed. I gasp and stand back, unable to comprehend the hangers now stripped bare, some lying in a tangled heap at the bottom.

I snuggle my arm around Rosie’s shoulders, giving her a reassuring squeeze as my feet carry us back into the office. Placing her down on the floor I slam the door shut and begin frantically pulling out the drawers of Antonio’s desk.

It’s clear some things are missing as the top drawer is half empty. When I pull out the bottom drawer, though, it’s stuffed full of letters. All I can see is red ink staring back at me as if it’s become the new black. I grab a handful and stare down at them for a moment in sheer disbelief before throwing them on the desk.

Overdue … final demand … debt collection agency … notice of enforcement … County Court Judgement. Looking down at the open drawer, there must be over fifty similar letters and I collapse down in a heap onto the chair. My head is spinning and my hands are trembling.

Tears fill my eyes as I look across at Rosie playing, blissfully unaware that our world has just come crashing down around us. My pocket begins to vibrate and I pull out my phone, hoping it’s Antonio. Maybe this isn’t what it seems, at all … but then I see it’s Mum calling. I switch it off and sit back, tears silently falling in a torrent down my face. I’m too numb to take it all in. None of this makes any sense to me and I simply don’t know what to do, or where to turn next.

Wake Me Up, I Must Be Dreaming

‘Here to present tonight’s very special award is our reigning travel ambassador, the inimitable and charismatic Caroline Blakely. Please join me in giving a very warm welcome to a ground-breaking journalist who has become an icon of our daytime TV screens.’

There’s a wild round of applause as Caroline begins the walk across the stage to the podium. Looking extremely elegant in a long, slinky black dress that hugs every perfect little curve, she delivers her trademark wave. She lingers until the applause gradually begins to subside; I’m transfixed and can’t take my eyes off her. I never dreamt I would ever see her in the flesh.

‘Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for such a wonderfully warm welcome to the annual Traveller Abroad industry gala evening. I’m absolutely delighted to be here tonight to present this year’s Top Travel Blog award. But it’s also a celebration of a group of truly inspiring people who have set the internet alight. With their wonderful posts about destinations both home and abroad, their social media following and interactions are a lesson in how to capture the attention of your target audience. They have helped boost not only the domestic travel industry, but have been instrumental in raising the profile of many small businesses who constantly struggle to gain visibility.’

There’s a pause while Caroline delicately prises open the envelope, no doubt being very careful not to ruin those beautifully manicured nails of hers. I slide my own, home-manicure job beneath the table, letting my hands rest out of sight on my lap.

Stealing a glance at each of the other eight nominees seated around the table, I wonder who the lucky winner will be. Of course, this is in between trying to make a convincing job of looking like I belong here and am taking it in my stride. My fellow bloggers all appear amazingly calm and professional on the surface. They are all in with a real chance of winning, so I can only hazard a guess at how difficult it must be to maintain your composure when you are so close to victory.

The pressure is mounting with each second that passes and, like the true pros they are, each of them does an admirable job of displaying that well-practised smile. The one that says it’s all about the nomination and not the actual winning part. Which it isn’t, of course, unless you are like me – the wild card. I’m simply delighted, and a little shocked if I’m being honest, to be here rubbing shoulders with the best. I suspect my blog hits will double in figures tomorrow off the back of this one evening alone. So, while the dress was an unexpected expense, it will hopefully pay for itself several times over. More visibility means more hotels will be clamouring to be featured and, in turn, more advertisers will want to partner-up. Maybe living the dream isn’t such a distant prospect, after all. I want to give up the day job and become a full-time travel blogger. But I know that’s a big ask and that’s why I’m giving it everything I have – every spare minute of my time.

To put things into perspective, I’m the newbie and it was only fifteen months ago that I decided to expand my website to blog about my travels. As a freelance photographer, it made sense to add my own holiday snaps and as more and more visitors asked about the locations I featured, I began posting useful information about each destination. And it’s grown from there; well, I suppose exploded is a more accurate description. I was lucky enough to bump into the iconic pop star, Harry Martin, on one of my first trips abroad. I cheekily asked if I could interview him about his stay at the prestigious Altar Bar resort in Cannes. To my complete and utter shock, he agreed; right place, right time, I suppose. I obviously caught him in the right mood. The interview went viral and suddenly my website was well and truly on the radar, plucked from obscurity and being shared all over social media.

But this is an extremely prestigious award and for the winner it will mean a flurry of very lucrative sponsorship deals – big money. Everyone with something to sell wants to advertise on the hottest blogs and the winner will be on fire! Trying not to be at all biased, as she also happens to be my best friend, I genuinely believe that Sally’s name will be on the card inside that envelope again this year. She’s been there since the start of this blogging phenomenon and I’m still only on the fringes of the mutually-supportive, travel-blogger network. But I’ve seen enough to know the award has been the subject of an almost unbelievable amount of speculation on Twitter and Instagram since the nominations were announced ten days ago. It is the trophy every travel blogger dreams of winning. And that’s why the tension now is almost tangible.

‘And the winner of this year’s Top Travel Blog award is…’

I reflect upon the stark reality that if I was at home now I’d probably be working on Rosie’s papier-mâché project. I mean, expecting a nine-year-old to model an entire island is a tall order. It’s also a lengthy process, as it has to dry in stages. The deadline is looming—

‘…The Sun Seeker’s Guide to a Happy Holiday.’

I join in with the clapping and then I tune back in; my stomach suddenly feels like a yo–yo as all eyes are on me. It hurtles to the floor at speed and then zips back up again, making me gasp.

‘Go! Move those feet lady, you only flippin’ won!’

Sally Martin, my blogger friend and constant inspiration, gives me a shove and suddenly my feet seem to take on a life of their own. They propel me forward in the direction of the stage, while the room around me becomes a blur. Focus, Leah, fainting is not an option, so pull yourself together. As I approach the steps I lift my dress slightly, for fear of tripping over in my ludicrously high heels while I make the ascent. If I’d thought for one single moment that there was even the slightest chance I could win, then I would most certainly have worn flats.

Each second seems agonizingly long, until finally I’m standing next to the celebrated host herself, thinking now is not the time to have a fangirl moment. Caroline hands me the award and I take it with both hands, hoping no one can see that I’m trembling from head to toe.

Turning and finding myself staring back at the assembled audience, I clutch the sizeable, cut-glass crystal award to my body. I don’t want to drop it and look totally inept. Cameras flash and I almost pinch myself. Is this real, or have I slipped into a warm, fuzzy dream from which I’ll wake up to find it’s just me and the waiting staff as they clear the tables? I’m so tired from working such long hours to make ends meet, that anything is possible these days.

An expectant hush falls over the room. My mouth is so dry that I have no idea whether I’m capable of forcing out anything at all, let alone something suitable enough for such a grand occasion. Caroline gives me an encouraging smile. She is the queen of daytime TV and it obviously takes a lot of skill to make everything look so easy, but I clear my throat as people are looking at me expectantly.

Placing the award down on the podium in front of me releases my hands to nervously smooth down my gown. It’s a pale silver-grey, the silky, floor-length fabric inset with lace panels. With a deep V at the back and a fishtail detail that gives a very modest little flair, I’m aware that it rather flatteringly accentuates my recently-acquired, enhanced rear profile.

‘Um … I … as you can tell I really wasn’t expecting to be standing up here tonight, so I will admit that I’m both thrilled and honoured—’

There’s another little ripple of applause, which thankfully gives me a few more seconds to compose myself; but this is going to be the shortest acceptance speech on record.

‘I feel truly blessed to accept this wonderful award on behalf of my daughter, Rosie, and myself. We have been so very grateful for the support we have received from the travel blogging community and the amazing visitors who keep coming back to read our posts. To have our work acknowledged by people we so greatly admire is the icing on the cake. All I can say is a heartfelt thank you, as this means so very much to us.’

Caroline can see that I’m too overwhelmed to continue and she leans in as we air kiss. It’s like an elegant dance move, or a disaster if you get it wrong. As soon as it’s over, I beat a hasty retreat back to the nominees’ table before my nerves cause me to collapse in a heap on the floor.

‘A very worthy winner, indeed,’ Caroline’s words ring in my ears, even above the tumultuous applause.

I place the award on the table while everyone is listening to the final speech and manoeuvre my phone out of my evening bag and into my lap so I can text Mum.

Take a deep breath, Mum. I’m holding the trophy!!! The Sun Seeker only bloody won! Your daughter and granddaughter did it! Beyond thrilled, won’t sink in … will see u later. Lx

Okay, the grammar police would have a field day and maybe, just maybe, there are a few too many exclamation marks in there, but woo-hoo! Something unbelievably wonderful has happened and I’m struggling to take it all in.

Tonight, though, I feel like a million dollars for one simple reason: this is validation – and it does feel like it’s been a long haul. All those late nights spent online after putting Rosie to bed, often extending way into the early hours of the morning, have finally paid off.

With my previously almost non-existent rear stuck to my typing stool as if someone had superglued it there, every hour of sacrifice has been worth it and I’m feeling vindicated. Of course, the fact that it also helped me create a little junk in the trunk is a bonus. I’m no longer that painfully thin, straight up and straight down sort of girl I had become for a while. Stress is a fat-buster, in tandem with destroying just about everything else in your life. Blogging helped me to blot all of that out. But I digress, because what tonight means is that my gamble paid off. I wasn’t just reaching for an impossible dream, as so many people very kindly took the time to warn me.

I brush off thoughts of the handful of online haters who left mean comments on my lovingly-penned posts. And the spammers who left drivel that had to be deleted, wasting some of my precious online time each night; comments that looked like someone’s cat had been sitting on the keyboard and refused to budge.

But the best bit of all? When my daughter, Rosie, wakes up tomorrow morning and I tell her what has happened, I get to see that little face of hers light up with pride! It isn’t just my blog, but our blog, because we are a team of two, and now it’s official – we’re up there with the best.

Back to Reality

‘Mum, it’s so heavy! Where are we going to put it?’ Rosie’s eyes are like saucers, she’s so excited and I know it’s going to be difficult to get her to focus on breakfast.

‘The clock is ticking, Rosie, you need to eat that cereal and head up to the bathroom to clean those teeth. Yes, it’s quite something, isn’t it? And What’s in Rosie’s Suitcase? is an important part of the website – high five me, girl.’

Our hands collide in mid-air as Mum walks into the kitchen.

‘Are my girls celebrating? I’m so proud of you both. How did you feel wearing that gorgeous dress, Leah? It was right for the occasion, wasn’t it?’

I tried on so many dresses to find something smart enough to wear, but when you are restricted to the budget rails there’s only one place to go if you want something special and that’s to the Next clearance sale. When I first saw the Lipsy tag hanging from the dress I half-closed my eyes as I turned it over to reveal the price. At fifty per cent off it was affordable, just, but even without trying it on I knew it was going to be perfect.

‘Yes, Mum, I felt like I was dressed for a red-carpet event.’

She smiles, easing herself down into the chair opposite me with a cup of tea in her hand. Mum stayed overnight to look after Rosie, and Dad is picking her up later this morning.

‘Well, it was an awards ceremony. And you should have let us pay for it, Leah. You’ve been working so hard now for such a long time and you deserve this win. I thought you said Sally was the number one favourite, though?’

I sigh. Sally was overjoyed for me, last night. But we all work hard, because with blogging everything is so transient. People click, scan and click away. Your content must grab and engage the reader at first glance and the visuals need to be strong to justify them lingering long enough to read the whole article. And then add you, hopefully, to their favourites or, even better, subscribe so that they receive your posts via email.

‘I can only assume it’s because of my photographic background that my graphics look so professional. Sally says she’s envious of how quickly I pull them together and I always thought she was just being kind.’

Mum shakes her head while I move the trophy out of arm’s reach of Rosie, so she’ll go back to eating her breakfast.

‘You underestimate yourself sometimes, Leah. I don’t know anyone else who works as hard as you do. You don’t just have two jobs, you have two very intensive jobs. You can’t manage on five hours’ sleep each night forever, honey.’

‘I’m done, Mum.’ Rosie pipes up, pushing back on her chair. ‘I’ll be ready in five. Promise.’

She’s such a good girl and a blessing.

‘Don’t forget your homework, Rosie,’ I call out, but she’s running up the stairs two at a time and the noise will, no doubt, drown out my words. ‘I know, Mum. But photography takes me away from home and the website is something that I can work around the school runs. You and Dad can’t keep dropping everything to come over and babysit every time I’m away. It’s difficult being a one-parent family and I want to be here for Rosie all the time. This is our future and this award might tip the scales and increase my income enough to cover all the bills. This could be it, Mum.’

She’s already clearing the dishes from the table, unable to sit still for more than a few minutes. I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree; it’s no wonder I’m a workaholic. But I’m working to maintain a reasonable standard of living for Rosie and for me. Besides, every trip to review a hotel or feature a resort is a free holiday. It’s quality time for us both and having a job that’s also a lot of fun would be a blessing. Unless you find yourself having to fit everything into weekends, days off and working late into the night to get the reviews and posts written up, as I’ve had to do. Which pretty much sums up my life, now. I yawn, unable to disguise the tiredness that never seems to leave me these days.