My Greek Island Summer

by Mandy Baggot

  ‘And then I realised that the hair he really liked, the hair he really wanted to spend all his time with was… my sister’s hair.’

  ‘What?’ Elias had gasped.

  *

  Yes, what. What exactly was she doing telling Elias any of this sad pathetic story she should have long since recovered from? Dean. The man her sister was forming a life with, would probably marry and have babies with, had been her boyfriend for eighteen months and three days.

  ‘It’s OK,’ Becky said. ‘I mean, it wasn’t, at first. At first it was really awkward and uncomfortable and he only left it four weeks before he moved on with Megan but, to be fair on her, she did keep asking me if it was OK. And I said yes. Even though it wasn’t OK. It was painful and I didn’t really understand it and…’

  ‘This man is with you for eighteen months…’

  ‘And three days.’ Becky put her hands back to the rope and steered the vessel a little, as if suddenly, under Elias tuition, she had got the knack.

  ‘Then after four weeks he dates your sister?’

  It sounded even worse when it was someone else speaking the timeline of events out loud. She had fallen hard for Dean. He had been sweet and funny and indulged her love of crazy when it came to experimenting with pizza toppings like she experimented with sandwich-fillings…

  ‘He is… the worst kind,’ Elias spat.

  It sounded like he was forcing the words out through gritted teeth. It sounded like he was furious. She could imagine the look on his face, the raised eyebrow, the pursed lips, a little like the expression he’d worn when he’d had to rescue Petra from the cave lake.

  ‘He’s been loyal to my sister so far. They seem completely devoted. We don’t go out as a three now. After a rather awkward meal at a restaurant Dean and I used to go to when the waiter thought we were still together it seemed better to not encounter that scenario again. And, if I think realistically about it, they are much better suited than Dean and I ever were. I should have realised that at the time and—’

  ‘I hate him,’ Elias hissed, his body shifting. ‘I do not know him and I hate him.’

  ‘I hated him too. For a while. Until I saw how happy he was making my sister.’ She sighed, looking at the beautiful view around the bay, the perfect picture postcard blue sky and warming sunshine making the water sparkle like it was laced with jewels. ‘And that’s one of the reasons I decided to come to Greece. Because staying in Wiltshire all the time is making me stagnate. As much as I love where I live and my job, I’m not going to find what it is I really like, or who I want to spend time with, unless I try other places, other things, other people…’

  For a second she had forgotten exactly how close Elias was sitting to her. As she said the word ‘people’ it became completely obvious they were tightly melded into the space really meant for one. It was disconcerting as well as seriously sexy. And why was she telling him this? Just because it was time she got it off her chest? It had been on her chest and inside of her for so long, no one knowing except Megan and Dean. How much more awkward would it have been if Hazel and Shelley knew Dean had started off with her? There would be the looks and comments and misunderstanding. It was far better for Hazel and Shelley to think she had only ever had casual drinks with people like Angus from the sausage shop, not a real-life eighteen months and three days with a conservatory salesman they knew all too well.

  ‘Being here is my time-out from everything I know. It’s going to give me and Megan some much-needed space. It’s going to be time for me to work out if my destiny lies with making sandwiches for my sister’s business and give her time to find out whether she needs me to keep her firm successful. Maybe she will need me. Maybe she won’t. Maybe I will decide to start something of my own.’

  Was starting something of her own what she wanted to do one day? All the ‘one days’ that had gone before had been usurped by the death of her dad and Megan needing someone to drive her out of the grief she was ignoring. Becky had always been the sister who made sacrifices.

  ‘We are drifting a little close to the rocks,’ Elias said all of a sudden. He put his hands over hers again, helping her to manoeuvre the boat away from the coastline.

  ‘Yes,’ Becky answered, reticent. ‘It’s rather a constant theme with me. Although I always do it in a very quiet way so no one notices.’

  ‘We always think that it is sometimes safer to hide. To not show that things hurt. To cover up how we really feel,’ Elias whispered so close to her ear.

  ‘Yes,’ Becky breathed. ‘Exactly.’

  He squeezed her hands in his, firm, soft, all the hotness…

  ‘We make things all about the other people. Do not make other people feel bad. Do not make a scene. Do not stand up for what matters to you.’

  ‘Yes,’ Becky stated, smiling. ‘You understand.’

  ‘Of course,’ Elias replied. ‘I am… the same as you.’

  She could feel the warmth of his breath against the side of her neck, the heat of his fingers on hers, hands clasped over the rope in the sunlight, sailing together across the now much less choppy sea…

  Slap!

  Becky screamed and reared back into Elias as something landed right in front of her on the boat.

  ‘Get it off! Get it off! Arrggh!’ Becky was trying to flip her body out of the sunken niche in a bid to get further away from their sea-life visitor.

  Elias began to laugh and she could feel it, rumbling through him from inside that taut stomach that was nestling into her back, then up through his chest until release into the sea air. It was a warm sound, a genuine sound and Becky always liked hearing it.

  ‘It is only an octopus,’ Elias said, still laughing, taking control of the boat as Becky had dropped the rope in her panic.

  ‘You wouldn’t be saying that if you had seen the monster in a video Petra showed me last night.’ She shuddered and Elias leaned his body into her again.

  ‘It is a fine specimen,’ he continued. ‘I expect it would be delicious.’

  ‘I can’t… I couldn’t eat it… not now I’ve seen it, alive and… wriggling. Argh!’ Becky exclaimed as the octopus shuffled along the deck, closer to her. ‘Make it stop.’

  Elias slipped his body away from hers and attempted to stand up on the boat. His motion made the yacht sway a little and Becky screamed again.

  ‘Yassas,’ Elias said and he took hold of the creature and tossed it back into the ocean.

  ‘Is it OK?’ Becky asked as Elias turned to face her, expertly keeping his balance. She admired the physique of him in those tight trunks – not dissimilar to something David Gandy could model.

  ‘You are enquiring after the health of something you were terrified of?’ Elias asked her, a wry smile on his face.

  ‘I just didn’t want it to be like coral or something else from the sea that dies if you touch it.’

  ‘Let us hope it does not try to find the love of its life or it might be the trying that kills it.’

  ‘Ha ha,’ Becky replied. ‘Very amusing.’

  ‘Come on, Captain Rebecca. Let us see if you can sail this dinghy without any help from me.’

  Forty-Two

  Villa Selino, Kerasia

  In the past four days Becky had seen the flowers of Villa Selino really come into their own. She had watered them thoroughly morning and evening, but she had done something else too, something she did to the herbs and plants in the garden of It’s A Wrap. She had spent time talking to them. Now, with Petra lying in the pool, inside a bright pink flamingo ring that Becky was concerned might attract the real flamingo to mate with, she was holding the hosepipe over the blooming urns of lilac anemone and bright yellow marigolds whispering to their petals.

  ‘It’s been four days,’ Becky said, watching the water tumble into the soil. ‘Four days and I haven’t heard anything from Elias. And I shouldn’t be thinking about him because, he was a stranger on a plane and he told me he was an estate agent and… countless other reasons. But…’ She pause
d, as if waiting for the marigold to give an answer. ‘He was the first person I told about Dean and that means that I obviously liked him enough to tell him that and that… well, that’s important.’

  She moved the hosepipe from one urn to the next. ‘But he knows where I am, and he hasn’t been here, and he could be here. He’s meant to be here for his job. Except he doesn’t want to come in while we’re here and he’s… thinking more deeply about the morality of this case. I think.’ She let out a sigh of frustration.

  Despite not having seen Elias since they had sailed around Avlaki Bay together, Becky had relaxed into Greek life and had managed to avoid any suggestion from Petra that they ‘hit a club’ or ‘book a booze cruise’. They had attempted to cook a barbecue – huge pork chops and village sausages – that had ended up with the reappearance of the bear-thing and half the neighbourhood cats. They had tasted at least four different village wines in one night in a bid to find the most superior kind of the ones that were less than three euros and came in a plastic bottle. And Becky had told Petra about It’s A Wrap, her fight with her sister and her magical sandwiches, while Petra again told her absolutely nothing apart from travel stories. Becky still didn’t know about the rest of Petra’s family or exactly where in Kent she came from and the girl seemed to push every conversation away from real life and towards debates about the best Bridget Jones movie.

  ‘I need to think about someone else, don’t I?’ Becky asked the red bougainvillea. ‘Or no one else at all. Or everyone else if Petra has her way.’

  ‘Are you talking to the flowers again?’

  Petra’s shout had Becky freezing, the water from the hosepipe trickling away from the urn and going all over her feet and the pleather espadrilles.

  ‘Bugger!’ Becky exclaimed, lifting the hose up again and shaking one sodden foot. Could Petra really hear what she was saying? She wasn’t sure she wanted her plant therapy sessions to be eavesdropped on.

  Petra laughed then and Becky looked up over the small natural stone wall at her friend in the water. She was wearing giant sunglasses, the smallest of bikinis in an electric blue colour and was now riding the flamingo ring like it was a rodeo bull. ‘You’ve spent more time with those plants than you have with me!’

  That wasn’t true. They had both spent the most time with the sparkling sea only a few steps away from the villa. Kerasia Beach was serene and perfect and absolutely what Becky had been expecting of this Greek trip. Swimming in the water, letting the refreshing saltwater run off her shoulders, soak her hair, hold her up in a starfish float Petra had taught her, was one of the best things she had ever experienced. She was starting to find perspective in the Greek water. Whatever happened next for her she needed to make her choices, not choices she made for the sake of others.

  ‘But tonight’s the night, right?’ Petra called back, breaking Becky’s train of thought as she gave the next pot a soaking.

  ‘Tonight?’

  ‘It’s Saturday! Come on, Becks, you booked us into it!’

  Oh God. Now she remembered. It was Dark Dating. Tonight in Liakada. Did they really have to go? It was only ten euros each. She could forfeit twenty euros to not go. Except Petra sounded way too enthusiastic.

  ‘Dark Dating!’ Petra called out. ‘I know I thought it sounded like a pile of shite when you first told me but… I’m quite excited about it. I mean the dark bit of it must mean that you can’t see people, right? Well, that’s really mysterious, isn’t it? You could be holding a conversation with literally anyone.’

  ‘But there’s no talking either,’ Becky reminded, coming out from behind the wall and walking over towards the pool, mainly so Petra didn’t have to keep disturbing the peace with her shouting.

  ‘No talking? Are you sure?’

  ‘That was what I was led to believe.’

  ‘By the old woman who’s shagged Elias?’

  And there was that. Despite really liking Elias there was the issue of him having had relations with the woman from the cafeneon. It seemed unlikely, didn’t it? But the idea of it made Becky feel a little bit uncomfortable. She felt that he had been honest with her, cooped up in that tiny boat space, helping her learn how to sail. She had felt as if she was finally finding out at least some of the real him. But she also suspected there was much more to Elias Mardas and perhaps she had still only just scratched the surface. Was it a surface she wanted to continue to scratch at though?

  ‘The thought of that!’ Petra exclaimed. ‘She has hairs on her chin. Did you see? I was scared one or all of them might end up in that stiffy she gave us.’

  Becky had to concentrate really hard to work out what Petra was referring to. The beef stifado. She still hadn’t figured out what was missing from that meal. Something sweet, but not more cinnamon. Something spicy, but not extra paprika or the twang of ginger. She might have to eat it again to really nail it down. Or, perhaps, forget about it. She didn’t have to be the girl who came up with crazy food concoctions here in Greece. Suddenly, thinking about It’s A Wrap, Becky realised she hadn’t heard from Shelley or Hazel for a couple of days. It was Saturday today though. Unless there was a wedding booked in – which there hadn’t been when she’d checked the diary before her break – they wouldn’t be at the unit until Monday.

  Her mobile buzzed in her pocket, then gave out a chime she recognised straightaway. It was a tone she had set to alert her when she received something from Ms O’Neill. Elias story about a divorce had rung alarm bells and she was a little on edge as to what she had waltzed into the middle of. She didn’t know her homeowner or anything about her. The cars worth millions in the garage had not been mentioned and you would have thought that if you had put someone in charge of goods that valuable, there might have been some mention of them…

  ‘Is that the divorcee who’s hiding the Crown Jewels and a Van Gogh original somewhere?’

  ‘Petra, you haven’t been trying any more sets of keys to open that cupboard in your room, have you?’

  ‘Aren’t you a little bit curious about what’s in there? I mean, it might not even be a cupboard. I might open the door and there might be a foldaway staircase that leads to an underground drug laboratory.’ Petra wriggled a little on the flamingo. ‘Maybe that’s it!’ She waved a finger in the air. ‘Maybe it’s not about jewels or paintings. Maybe it’s all about the pill production!’

  Becky shook her head and looked at the screen of her phone. It was a text message.

  Someone is coming to the villa on Monday at 5 p.m. His name is Lazarus. He will have a key so no need to be there. He will be removing a few boxes to take for a local charity

  ‘Ms O’Neill says someone’s coming to the house,’ Becky announced.

  ‘A drug lord! I told you!’

  ‘He’s called Lazarus.’

  ‘Yeah, right. That sounds totally legit.’

  ‘He’s going to be removing some boxes from the villa.’ Becky sighed. She felt really uneasy about this now Elias had told her about the imminent divorce. She didn’t know any of the details, but this did sound like Ms O’Neill might possibly be removing things that were half her husband’s. Grr, why did she care? It was none of her business what went on between them. She was simply here to house sit not get embroiled in matrimonial disputes.

  ‘I bet he is!’ Petra said. ‘Boxes of laundered money or… cannabis plants!’

  What was Becky going to do?

  Forty-Three

  Panos’s Taverna, Liakada

  ‘What are you doing in here?’

  Elias looked up from his laptop to see his mother standing over him, an apron tied around her middle, what looked like batter in her curly black hair. He picked up his coffee cup and raised it slightly as if that told her enough.

  ‘I have coffee in the cafeneon,’ Eleni reminded him, folding her arms across her chest.

  ‘Mama, I wanted a cup of Panos’s coffee,’ Elias replied.

  ‘Here we are, Elia,’ Panos announced as he appeared holding a plate full o
f sausage, bacon, eggs, hash browns, black pudding, fried bread, tomatoes and baked beans. He placed it down on the table and stood back to admire his own presentation.

  ‘What is that?’ Eleni wanted to know. ‘That is… the breakfast of the English.’

  Elias nodded, already having grabbed a fork and put baked beans into his mouth. ‘It’s good.’

  ‘The tourists love it,’ Panos announced. ‘I start doing this this season and I have the best reviews on TripAdvisor.’

  Eleni tutted as if both of them were committing a crime against Greek cuisine. ‘You will die of heart failure. This is what I tell your father. This is one of many things I tell your father.’

  This breakfast was good. As good as anything he had tasted in the UK. ‘This is so good, Panos,’ Elias told him through another mouthful of food.

  ‘Good enough for the five stars?’ Panos asked, lowering his glasses a little.

  Elias nodded, smiling. ‘I will do a review.’

  ‘Oh, thank you, Elia. Thank you.’ Panos then retreated away from the table and Elias was left with his still-glaring mother.

  ‘What time do you come home last night?’

  Elias shrugged, still enjoying the food. ‘I do not know.’

  ‘I know it was after one in the morning,’ Eleni said, tone accusing.

  ‘Then, if you know, why do you ask?’

  ‘Were you with your father?’

  ‘I thought you did not care what my father does any longer.’

  ‘I do not.’

  ‘I do not believe you.’ Elias looked at her directly then. ‘And I am still unhappy that he is living in a shed and that you did not tell me he was sick.’

  ‘He was not sick. He had a heart attack because of the eating the breakfast of English people and the smoking.’

  ‘So, you throw him out of his home?’