Читать книгу Sunshine After the Rain: a feel good, laugh-out-loud romance - Daisy James - Страница 14

Chapter Seven

Evie groaned and reached up to rub her eyes. A feeling of intense disorientation enveloped her body and made her head swoon. She pushed herself into a sitting position and a sharp spasm of pain radiated from her ankle into her shin to remind her of the previous night’s escapade. However, she shoved her lank, lifeless hair behind her ears and walked barefoot across the marble floor to open the French doors to the balcony. The view, now bathed in the golden light of the midday sun, hit her square in the face and nudged her spirits northwards.

How could anyone be miserable when there was such an abundance of nature’s beauty to appreciate every morning?

The infinite canopy of cerulean sky, dotted with the kind of clouds she had last seen in a children’s picture book, and the sapphire of the shimmering sea provided the perfect foil for the stark sand-coloured, almost moon-like mountains of Albania in the distance. A procession of ferries and sailing boats were making their way to the numerous hidden coves for an afternoon of swimming, picnicking, and sun-worshiping.

She couldn’t wait to get outside to explore. She stripped off her jeans and sweater, but instead of making her way to the bathroom to wash away the grime of her travels she decided to throw caution to the wind and instead grabbed her beach towel and trotted down to the pool.

A long sigh of satisfaction escaped her lips. The terrace was even more stunning in the sunshine. Large ceramic pots crammed with scarlet geraniums were clustered together on the cracked paving of the pool area under the shade of a large palm tree. A small grove of olive trees congregated to her right, their gnarled trunks and silver-green leaves so picturesque that Evie wanted to dash back inside to collect her paints. To her left, an impenetrable thicket of orange and lemon trees blocked the view of the pool from an adjacent villa.

There were no sun loungers but she assumed they had been stored for the winter season in the garage beneath the studio. She dropped her beach towel over the handrail and tested the water with her toe. A shiver of pleasure shot through her veins.

Bliss.

She glanced down at her bra and knickers and, in a completely out-of-character moment, her inner voice announced ‘what the hell’ so she peeled away her underwear and dived into the sparkling water. Chills surged through her body but as she built up a rhythmic breast stroke her heart rate accelerated and she warmed up. She hadn’t been in a pool for years – certainly never naked – and it felt awesome. Why hadn’t she tried it before? The way the water slipped over her skin like liquid silk was luxurious and she experienced a sense of total freedom from all the stress and pressure she had faced over the last few weeks.

Evie was overtaken by a burst of gratitude. How lucky she was to have been offered this refuge from her trauma. She made an immediate pact with herself: every day she was in Corfu she would indulge in a vigorous morning swim, minus the confinement of a bikini. She inhaled a deep breath and ducked her head beneath the surface, launching herself forward, and proceeded to complete another twenty laps until her upper arm muscles cried for mercy.

She hauled herself from the water and wrapped her towel around her body. As there were no sun loungers upon which to recline to while away the rest of the afternoon, she trotted back up the stairs to the studio and dragged a plastic chair out onto the tiny balcony. She closed her eyes and turned her face towards the sun, wondering if she had already succumbed to the more languid tempo of daily life the Greeks preferred. She decided to act like a local and indulge in a siesta. She pulled out her sofa bed, slipped naked under the crumpled white cotton sheet and fell asleep.