Single for the Summer: The perfect feel-good romantic comedy set on a Greek island

by Mandy Baggot

  Waving a hand, Andras cut him off. He couldn’t talk to him any more. He needed to move away from the family group before he said something he might later regret.

  ‘Do we help ourselves, do you think?’ Sonya asked, eyeing the earthenware flagons of liquid sitting on the long, rustic trestle table covered in a pretty white lace tablecloth.

  Tess’s attention was with Andras as he made his way over. Something had happened down there in the middle of the garden. She had seen the urgency in his movements as he’d left the house, the way he had dropped to his knees on the grass and tended to his brother. Then a donkey had come onto the scene and people had started clapping. Andras’s eyes had darkened and the tension in his torso, when he’d stood up, had told her he was furious about something.

  ‘I don’t know whether I should but I’m quite thirsty and …’ Sonya deliberated.

  ‘Have wine,’ Andras stated as he finally reached them, his breathing ragged.

  ‘Oh, are you sure?’ Sonya asked. ‘I didn’t like to—’

  ‘Have it,’ he said. ‘Have all of it. Drink from the flagon. I am going to.’ He picked up one of the jugs and poured some into his mouth, a little drizzling down his chin.

  Tess swallowed, watching as he wiped long fingers over his stubble, removing the liquid.

  ‘Well … I’ll get a glass,’ Sonya said, picking one up from the table.

  ‘What happened over there?’ Tess asked softly.

  He shook his head. ‘My family and other animals. Just like the book.’

  ‘Shall I fill up wine glasses for you two?’ Sonya suggested.

  ‘What was wrong with your brother?’ Tess asked.

  He scoffed. ‘Nothing. My family thought it would be funny to trick me into thinking he was half-dead for the sake of a list of wedding traditions.’

  Tess looked over to Isadora and Marietta, heads close together as they walked up the garden. What were they plotting next?

  ‘I do not know why I am surprised,’ Andras said. ‘It does not matter what I do, it will never be right.’

  Tess turned back to Andras. ‘Right for who?’

  ‘Right for my family. My mother.’

  ‘Well,’ Tess stated. ‘Her name on the birth certificate doesn’t give her the right to tell you how to live your life.’ She sniffed. ‘You worry too much about what she thinks. So much so you created a fake girlfriend, for God’s sake.’

  Sonya nodded. ‘Tess does have a point.’

  ‘And you?’ Andras said, his eyes on Tess. ‘You do not worry about the thoughts of your family? Do things that you do not want to do for them?’

  The question had Tess wishing Sonya would hurry up with that wine she was taking ages to pour. Her family. Her mum and dad who had sunk every penny they owned into Rachel’s wedding that had ended in divorce and then hers that never even got out of the church. No, she didn’t do anything for them. She’d run away and packed her guilt with her. And she was still not even halfway close to saving up the money to repay them both. Until she had done that, there was always going to be an awkwardness between them. Perhaps it was of her making, but she knew she had let them down and it still felt so utterly horrible. So she kept her distance. Out of sight. Out of mind. She had no real idea what they were doing with their lives right now. Was her mum still doing pottery? Was her dad still dating that Canadian woman? And what about her sister? They hadn’t spoken since Rachel had gone through the stage of following Phil when he left work again because someone had told her he had another new girlfriend. When was that? Was it really months?

  ‘Let’s have some wine, yes?’ Sonya said, arms breaking into the space, a wine glass in each.

  Tess took the glass and knocked back a large mouthful. She smiled at Andras, the alcohol hit restoring a little confidence. ‘One thing I do know is, my family would never involve national dress, or a mule, in any of their dramas.’ Right on cue there was a bray from the donkey who seemed to have its head stuck in a bush of bougainvillea.

  He leaned forward, face only inches away from hers and she instinctively held her breath. ‘But costumes,’ he breathed, ‘and an ass …’ He wet his lips. ‘Might make things a little more interesting, no?’

  She quivered. She actually quivered, as her brain conjured up all manner of kinky right there on the lawn. It was not the Corfiot sun making its slow-burning descent that was heating her up, it was Andras, so incredibly close …

  ‘Pass them the babies!’

  Before Tess had time to wonder where she could find something leather and tight on a Greek island, a large, bald six-month-old was thrust into her arms. It grinned, gums, a few teeth and drool sliding from its mouth. She couldn’t tell immediately if it was a boy or a girl but it had an air of Vladimir Putin about it.

  ‘Ooo, I’m not sure I … hold on! I’ll have to put the wine down. Oh, hello little one,’ Sonya said, as the baby was pushed at her.

  Tess looked at her friend, arms around the small child who was immediately trying to rip her earrings from her lobes. This was the last thing Sonya needed. Getting up close and personal with someone in nappies when her relationship was faltering due to unresolved baby issues … She shook her head.

  ‘Ba!’ the baby in her arms declared, thumping its fist on her chest.

  ‘I’m not really a … that is, I don’t really … Tess began. All Greek eyes were on her as the baby decided to try out a full drum solo on her boobs. ‘Which one of you is the lucky mother?’ She swallowed. ‘Such a lovely … boy.’

  ‘It is a girl!’ Isadora exclaimed. ‘You do not know the difference between a boy and a girl.’

  ‘Usually, unless it’s Eurovision.’

  Andras scooped the child out of her arms, raising it up to the sky and causing it to chuckle excitedly. ‘This is Athena.’

  ‘Lovely,’ Tess stated, picking up her glass of wine and having another gulp.

  ‘Ow! Sorry,’ Sonya said. ‘This little one seems to like my hair and my earrings.’ She tried to gently tease the baby’s fingers from her earrings and where it was attempting to pull out fistfuls of her hair.

  ‘Come!’ Isadora announced. ‘We will roll them on the bed!’

  Tess almost spat out her wine. ‘What?’ She looked to Andras as Sonya was finally relieved of her baby. ‘What did she say?’

  ‘It is another Greek tradition,’ he answered, Athena tugging at the collar of his shirt. ‘Babies are rolled around the bed of couples who are to be married. It is believed to promote fertility.’

  Tess laughed. ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘Yes, we are serious,’ Isadora said, appearing at close quarters and snatching Athena from Andras’s arms. ‘Perhaps, when the time comes, I will roll a baby around your bed too.’

  Tess swallowed. How could the woman make something involving a baby sound like a threat?

  Andras spoke to his mother in Greek, then slipped an arm around Tess’s shoulders, drawing her into his body a little. Tess watched as Isadora’s expression immediately darkened.

  ‘Dinner will be ready soon,’ Isadora stated, launching Athena against her shoulder and turning for the house.

  Tess looked up at him. ‘What did you say to her?’

  He smiled. ‘I simply said that she was welcome to roll the babies around our bed any time she liked.’

  Her stomach squirmed just thinking about Andras’s bed – him between the sheets, her on top of him. This scenario was starting to get a lot harder now she was banned from seeking any other male attention while she was here.

  ‘They were lovely babies, lovely,’ Sonya said, and her comment made Tess pull herself together. She held her glass out to Andras. ‘Could you get us something a little stronger than wine?’

  He nodded, taking the glass. ‘I know just the thing.’

  Tess smiled, then as soon as he left the table she made a move back to Sonya, putting an arm around her shoulders. ‘I’m so sorry about the babies.’

  Sonya shook her head. ‘Don’t be silly.
Babies are everywhere.’

  ‘But not usually forced on you like that.’

  Sonya sighed. ‘Little chubby cheeks … little eeny weeny fingers and toes …’

  ‘Covered in drool,’ Tess reminded her quickly. ‘Covering everything you own, including your body, in drool. And, if they’re ill, you’ll be wishing for just drool.’

  ‘They can be nice, though. All those smiles and giggles,’ Sonya mused. ‘You know, a little person you’ve made with the man you love.’

  Tess gave her friend’s shoulder a squeeze. ‘Let’s focus on us smiling and giggling as we stuff ourselves with Greek food tonight.’

  ‘And drink,’ Sonya added. ‘If we have enough drink we might end up being the ones drooling over everything.’

  ‘Cheers to that,’ Tess replied.

  Thirty-one

  Tess sat back in her chair, hands on her stomach as it started to feel like it was trying to burst out of her designer dress. They had eaten five courses and it was rumoured a sixth was on its way. So much for there not being very much food! First there was creamy taramasalata and nutty houmous, together with every variety of olive known to man; next was dolmades and spanakopita – the stuffed vine leaves Sonya loved so much the night before and a Greek cheese and spinach pie. Then there was lamb kleftiko. The tender hunks of beef in a sauce called sofrito had practically melted in Tess’s mouth and it had been accompanied by a delicate, fragrant rice dish, the like of which she had never experienced before. If it hadn’t been for the sly digs from Isadora every third sentence, the meal would have been almost perfect: sweet white wine, the liqueur Andras had apparently found in the depths of the house, Sonya smiling and happy talking to Kira and making up a rather elaborate backstory for her role as a business aficionado. Not to mention the gorgeous man next to her, and in the background the sun slowly sinking into the horizon.

  ‘What do you do?’

  Tess jumped in her seat at Isadora’s question yelled down the table in her direction. As she steadied herself all Andras’s relatives looked to her. There were fourteen of them – she’d counted – plus the babies and Helena, the girl with flowers in her hair.

  ‘What do I do?’ she repeated, gaining some time.

  ‘In UK. For work,’ Isadora elaborated. ‘Susan is a customer, am I right? What is she a customer for?’

  ‘Mama, I do not think—’ Andras began.

  ‘No,’ Tess stated. ‘It’s fine.’ She smiled at Andras’s mother. ‘I work in branding.’

  ‘Branding?’ Isadora stated. ‘What is this?’

  ‘Something my father does to cows?’ Marietta asked. The comment earned her a light laugh from other members of the family. Athena, on the lap of her mother, banged an olive-wood rattle down hard on the table. Tess continued to smile. She wasn’t going to let these women make her feel inadequate. She was also going to think up lots of extra ways Andras was going to pay her back for this torture. If it hadn’t been for the lush food she might have just spilled the giant Greek beans about the reality of the situation.

  ‘I design logos and banners for companies to help pep up their websites and social-media accounts, or I create a whole new business identity from scratch.’

  ‘You draw pictures,’ Isadora stated. ‘Like Athena and Leto with crayons.’ This prompted another laugh from the family and Athena was tossed from one relative to the next, bouncing on knees along the table.

  ‘Yes,’ Tess stated. ‘I suppose it is a bit like that.’

  ‘Patricia is very good at what she does,’ Sonya piped up. ‘The best, actually, otherwise she wouldn’t have my business.’ She took a sip of her wine. ‘Owning an international haberdashery, jewellery and unique porcelain conglomerate, I haven’t got time to waste on anyone who isn’t dedicated, professional and an expert in their field.’

  ‘So, it is all work for you,’ Isadora stated. ‘That is why you don’t like the babies.’

  There was a collective gasp from around the table and Tess felt her mouth drop open.

  ‘No … I mean … yes … I don’t like … I mean … I do like the babies, of course I like the babies.’ She was floundering. How could she be floundering? She ate people like Isadora for breakfast in business circumstances. She stood up, chair rocking backwards, and held her arms out across the table. ‘Give me Athena.’

  ‘Trix,’ Andras said, putting a hand on her arm.

  ‘Trix? Ah ha!’ Isadora exclaimed. ‘You tell me her name is Patricia.’

  ‘It is!’ Sonya jumped in. ‘Trix is short for Patricia.’

  ‘Come on, Athena,’ Tess said, shaking her outstretched arms and widening her eyes and smile to endear herself to the little girl.

  ‘Whatever is going on between you is pointless, I hope you know that,’ Isadora said.

  Andras got to his feet and instinctively Tess dropped her arms.

  Andras had had enough of this. All the way through what was meant to be a family celebration and a chance to discuss Spiros and Kira’s wedding, Isadora had looked at Tess as if she were a Kalamata olive that needed pitting. She had already done so much for him over this crazy situation, it was time to take action.

  ‘Mama, Trix and Susan – Sonya,’ he corrected, ‘are my guests here tonight.’

  ‘I am well aware of that,’ Isadora snapped.

  ‘Then please, I know it is your home, but you taught me that guests should always be treated with respect.’

  His mother made no reply.

  ‘Helping businesses is a good job to have.’

  ‘In a city,’ Isadora said. ‘Just like the job Elissa had.’

  There was another gasp from the family. He gritted his teeth. His mother seemed hell-bent on trying to belittle him at every turn. Even in front of his own family.

  He put the flat of his hands on the table, hoping to garner a little strength from the stance. ‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘And there are times, like right now, when perhaps I wonder if I should have worked in the city with her.’

  He swallowed as silence descended. Fourteen people, two babies and an eight-year-old seemed to freeze, and the only sound came from the cicadas in the bushes.

  His eyes stayed with his mother. Why was she doing this? Was this what he was going to be forced to put up with when Spiros left and Isadora took over his brother’s share of the restaurant? His idyll here, the life he’d chosen, was starting to feel like a very small room where the walls were quickly closing in.

  ‘I can smell … honey and walnuts!’ Sonya announced loudly, her voice breaking the silence. ‘I’m right, aren’t I? Can you all smell honey and walnuts?’

  Andras watched Sonya, eyes and hand gestures encouraging the guests to re-engage with the conversation.

  Isadora got to her feet, body language still defiant. ‘It is kataifi.’ She shot a look at Sonya. ‘Syrup. Not honey.’

  Lowering himself back down to the chair, Andras picked up his glass of wine and took a swig of the pale-coloured liquid.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Tess asked him.

  He turned to look at her. ‘I should be the one asking you that question.’ He sighed. ‘My mother and Marietta, they have …’

  ‘Picked at me all night? Glared at me like I single-handedly killed all the celebrities in 2016?’ She nodded. ‘I did tell you they didn’t want me here.’

  ‘And I didn’t listen.’

  ‘You did,’ she answered. ‘And I told you I could handle it. And I have.’ She swallowed. ‘I am.’

  ‘This is all my fault. Involving you in my family drama and all these …’ He lowered his voice. ‘Lies.’

  She nodded and picked up her wine glass. ‘Believe me, if I was any ordinary holidaymaker here to relax and soak up the Greek ambience then I wouldn’t be doing any of this.’

  ‘But you want a guide man for Sonya.’ His eyes went to where Sonya was repinning the flowers in Helena’s hair a little way away.

  ‘It’s more than that,’ Tess admitted. ‘It’s a really great distraction.’

&
nbsp; ‘From?’ he asked, leaning in a little closer to her.

  A sigh left her then. A deep, shoulder-hunching, whole-body-shivering exhalation he almost felt inside himself.

  ‘From thinking about my own life, and all the things I’ve done wrong.’ She smiled but the expression caught a little. ‘Maybe wishing that my family cared enough to interfere.’ She shook her head. ‘Or rather, that I cared enough to let them interfere.’

  ‘Tess …’ Andras began, his hand moving, wanting to make contact.

  She shifted her chair back. ‘God, what am I saying?’ She looked at her wine glass like it might contain truth serum. ‘What is in this stuff?’ She got to her feet. ‘Excuse me just for a second while I head into the gloom and find the loo.’

  ‘Tess …’ he began again, making to stand up. But she was gone, tottering across the grass and making for the house.

  Thirty-two

  ‘I rolled a baby over a bed!’ Sonya slurred as she strapped the motorbike helmet over her head, tucking in the stray bits of hair Baby Leto had pulled out earlier. ‘I really rolled a baby over a bed.’

  Babis had been called back up and they were outside Isadora’s house getting ready to leave the dinner party. The sky was pitch-black, the lack of light pollution making the stars shine out like a million fairy lights strung across an ebony canvas.

  ‘Who knew that could be a tongue twister,’ Tess responded.

  ‘What?’ Sonya asked.

  She shook her head and looked back at the rustic door, willing Andras to walk through it. ‘Nothing.’ She was longing for her hard, single bed in the humid, stale air of their room at Kalami Cove. Just a bit of quiet – aside from Sonya’s snoring – no one making her feel unwelcome or uncomfortable, or making her remember her life prior to being Miss Six-Weeks-And-Completely-Self-Reliant.

  Babis started up the moped and Sonya let out a shriek. ‘Whoa! Sorry! I just didn’t want you to take off before I was ready.’

  ‘It is not an aeroplane,’ Babis called, grinning.

  Tess looked to the door again then back to Sonya. ‘Have you got the key?’