by Mandy Baggot
‘He is not human,’ Andras whispered. ‘To do something like that, on what should have been such a special day.’ He slipped his arm across her shoulders, wanting to wrap her up, wanting to take her pain away. ‘To leave you there.’
Tess sniffed. ‘My sister Rachel kept telling me it would have been worse if he had gone through with the marriage and left me afterwards but, I don’t know … This way it was so humiliating for everyone and there was nothing tangible to show for our relationship, just Breville sandwich-makers and a cheeseboard set and bloody scallops.’
‘You should not feel humiliated,’ Andras spoke gently. ‘You did nothing wrong.’
‘But I don’t know that. I will never know that.’ She raised her head to look at him. ‘Because Adam never spoke to me again.’
‘What?’
‘I tried to call him. Text him. Email him. Just for an explanation and, like you, I suppose I hoped we might be able to somehow work it out …’
‘And he never explained himself?’
She shook her head. ‘No.’
‘And all this …’ Andras began. ‘All this is why you date, not love.’
‘Like you,’ Tess replied. ‘With your flings with holidaymakers so you can’t get hurt again.’
He nodded his head in acceptance at his own situation, so desperately similar to hers. ‘Except it does not always feel the way it should, does it?’
He looked across the shoreline where some of his family were starting a conga line across the stones, shouting opa and laughing their way into a circle.
‘No,’ Tess admitted hesitantly.
He turned his attention back to her and began to feel that now all too familiar sensation whirring in his psyche. There was something here, something between them, that wasn’t cheap or disposable, and it was bubbling and burning its way to the surface the more time they spent together.
He took a breath, his fingers finding the fine gold of her hair and trying to tame it into position as he gazed at her.
‘I have spent such a long time being afraid,’ he admitted. ‘Of making other poor choices, of misinterpreting my own feelings, of getting hurt again, but I think …’ He smoothed her hair back, his fingers contacting the slight curve of her neck. ‘I think that even if you try to guard your heart, even if you try to lock it up so tightly, there is going to come the moment …’ He paused. ‘There is going to come the moment when someone arrives with the key.’
Her eyes, the colour of the sea, were looking back at him, her full lips slightly parted, her scent, the heat from her skin, everything about her was calling to him. He shifted slightly, leaning a little forward, slowly, taking his time, not wanting this to be about lust and libido but something else, everything else. And he didn’t want to push her like he felt he had in Kassiopi, when he had been jealous and crazy and …
Her lips met his then, softly, slowly, her mouth working delicately over his in the sweetest, most sensuous way he had ever experienced. He felt her hand cup the back of his head and he deepened the kiss, welcoming her tongue, tasting her desire. This wasn’t a throwaway moment. This was one of the best moments of his entire life.
She broke the kiss, leaning away, touching her fingers to her lips, eyes wide. Was her expression surprise? Shock? He didn’t want to say too much. But he knew he needed to say enough.
‘Tess …’ he began.
‘What was that?’ She seemed to be questioning herself as well as him.
‘It was …’
She started to get to her feet, apparently not wanting to hear his answer. ‘I have to go. I have to go and find Sonya.’
‘Tess …’ Andras began again.
‘Tomorrow,’ she blurted out, upright now, her teeth juddering together. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow. A Greek eight o’clock.’
There was nothing left to say right now. He just had to let her go. He nodded his head. ‘Kali nichta.’
‘Goodnight,’ she answered, rushing down the jetty.
Tess wasn’t shaking, she was shuddering, actually internally quaking like a volcano ready to erupt and spew lava, melting its way down a mountain trail. Her legs could barely hold her weight as she stumbled down the pontoon. What had she done? Why had she kissed him like that, like it wasn’t just about her neglected G-spot but about … She couldn’t even bear to think the words that were popping up, all of them synonyms to a four-letter word beginning with ‘L’.
She blinked back confusion and tears and … there was Sonya in front of her. Thank God. Someone sane, someone from London life, not Greek life with all its holiday, relaxation and escape connotations. She put on a smile, urging her limbs to move faster. And then she saw the expression on her friend’s face.
‘Sonya?’ she said, hurrying up to her, own emotions camouflaged.
‘I … I called Joey,’ Sonya whimpered, face dropping its sun-kissed look from earlier and seeming to pale by the second.
‘You got hold of him. Well, that’s good,’ Tess ventured. Still Sonya’s expression wasn’t looking hopeful. ‘Isn’t it?’
Sonya shook her head. ‘No,’ she breathed. ‘I didn’t get hold of him.’
Tess swallowed. ‘You didn’t?’
‘No,’ Sonya said, this time with the tail of a wail at the close of her sentence that led to her putting a shaking hand to her lips.
‘Son, what’s happened?’
‘It was a woman,’ Sonya blurted out as tears fell from her eyes. ‘A woman answered Joey’s phone.’
Fifty-six
Tess passed Sonya the ouzo bottle and watched her friend swig back a good glug of the aniseed-flavoured alcohol. That was a great thing about Greece. Siestas in the afternoon just meant the shops opened until late at night for necessary grocery purchases, like the ouzo and the oregano crisps they had just purchased from one of the mini-markets.
Now they were sat crossed-legged on the shore in the dark, only the ambient light from the beachside tavernas casting a glow enough for them to see, the lanterns and fairy lights from the wedding dinner far enough away to make them virtually invisible. And that was what Tess wanted to be at the moment. Invisible. She gazed across at the mountainside, framing the cove of Kalami, pinpricks of light plotting the course of buildings among the tall trees to the pinnacle of headland. It was so picturesque. So peaceful. So filling her head with romantic thoughts she had no idea what to do with …
‘I should have said something,’ Sonya stated, resting the bottle on her lap, fingers clutching the glass like it was a life preserver.
‘Maybe,’ Tess responded.
‘I mean, it could have been anyone, couldn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ Tess answered. ‘It could have been anyone. Like … his mum?’
Sonya vigorously shook her head. ‘No, it wasn’t his mum.’
‘How do you know?’ Tess asked. ‘Just how much did this woman say?’
‘She said “hello”,’ Sonya explained. ‘His mum talks with a posh accent, even though she’s not posh, and if it was her it would have been “hell-ooo”, not “hello”.’
‘Well …’
‘And that’s weird too, isn’t it? To pick up someone else’s phone and just say “hello” as if it were your own phone you were answering, or someone’s phone you were really comfortable answering, like a close friend … or a lover.’ Her voice cracked a little. ‘If I was answering someone’s phone, as a random woman who happened to be near the phone, I would say, “Hello, this is Joey’s phone.” Why didn’t she say, “Hello, this is Joey’s phone”?’
‘What you really needed her to say was “Hello, this is Joey’s phone, I’m Ceri, a totally platonic, battle re-enactment acquaintance.”’
‘Well … yes, but … do you think it was Ceri?’ Sonya asked. ‘Do you think he is in Margate with her now? Not at home pretending?’
Tess sighed. ‘Oh, Sonya, I really don’t know.’
‘You don’t?’
‘I don’t, and I’m sorry, but I am probably the worst person to
ask for relationship advice.’
A beat went by before Sonya spoke again. ‘I don’t know. Perhaps, you’re the one who has had it completely right all along.’
‘What?’ Tess pulled the bottle of ouzo away from her friend and began to unscrew the cap.
‘Well, all this time, while you’re been going through Tinder and Shacking Up …’
‘Hooked Up,’ Tess corrected.
‘All this time, I’ve thought that it can’t possibly be fulfilling to have a different man every six weeks. It can’t be the type of relationship that wholly satisfies a woman’s needs, not just tiny designer dinners at Jamie Oliver’s or Fifty Shades sex, you know … to feel loved and cared about and … secure, like you’re walking around in Ugg boots and a big, thick fluffy blanket all the time … but …’
Tess swigged back the ouzo and waited for Sonya to reply. Her friend let out another sigh.
‘But?’ Tess asked, looking at Sonya.
‘But maybe, you’re right and all my ideas about lifelong love and partnership are wrong.’
Hearing her friend say that shot a bolt of fear right through Tess. She began to shake her head. ‘No. That’s not true, Sonya.’
‘Isn’t it?’ she asked. ‘Because right now I can’t think of anything better than never feeling like this again.’
‘Sonya, listen to me, you don’t know anything yet. You need to hang on in there. You need to see Joey, face-to-face, when you get home. You need to tell him about the baby situation, no matter what that means for your relationship, and you need to just get it all out there, how you feel, how much you love him and just … just be honest.’
Where had that come from? Her truth-telling on the jetty with Andras? She had spent her whole life since Adam avoiding honesty, wrapping everything up in Italian meals, trips to the opera, and one really, really bad biker pub.
‘Or I could be like you,’ Sonya suggested. ‘I could swallow all this away and I could start afresh. I wouldn’t have to tell anyone about my faulty ovaries, or anything about myself, I could just enjoy some male company and some nice dinners and—’
‘And you would end up just like me,’ Tess said. ‘Soulless.’
‘But … you’re happy with it. You’ve told me so many times how happy you are with it no matter what I’ve said and … perhaps I should have listened more.’
‘No,’ Tess stated. ‘You shouldn’t.’ She let a breath go and, straightaway, there was the taste of Andras’s lips, the touch of his fingers in her hair, the smell of his light aftershave mixing with the sea breeze and the sand …
‘But you were so sure …’
‘I am sure, at least, I was …’ She closed her eyes, trying to block out the haunting lilt of a mandolin that was seeping its way inside her.
‘Has something happened?’ Sonya asked, reaching to drag back the ouzo bottle.
Had something happened? Whether she wanted to freely admit it or not, something had happened, was happening with Andras. A man she had only just met. A man she had been thrown together with. A man who would probably score ridiculously badly on shared interests on the Hooked Up rating score. A man who seemed to understand her and accept her so easily.
‘I kissed Andras,’ Tess stated.
‘I know,’ Sonya said. ‘On our first night. Oh. Are you still thinking about it?’ She put her fingertips to her lips. ‘Was it that good?’
‘I kissed him tonight,’ she breathed. ‘On the jetty.’
‘Oh my!’ Sonya exclaimed.
‘And outside Passion, after he got all jealous when someone tried to chat me up.’
‘Oh my!’ Sonya said again.
‘So, I broke my single for the summer vow and … I’m sorry about that, I really am, but—’
‘Tess—’
‘No,’ Tess broke in. ‘You don’t understand.’ She was struggling to breathe now, the combination of the humid air and the ouzo clagging up her throat. ‘There’s more. It’s much, much worse.’
‘It is?’
Tess nodded. ‘Much worse.’
‘Double swig of ouzo worse?’ Sonya asked, passing Tess the bottle.
There was no backing out now. She had to tell Sonya the truth. If only to stop her giving up on Joey and thinking that she wanted to commit to a life of meaningless liaisons.
‘It’s worse because … I’m pretty sure it meant something.’
‘It meant something?’
‘I think so. I mean it felt different. From all the other kisses, since Adam.’
‘Oh my!’ Sonya said again. ‘You’re feeling something! You’re feeling something!’
‘Shh,’ Tess begged. ‘It can’t be real though, can it? And … I don’t want it to be real, do I, for all the reasons you just said. The potential loss, the heartbreak when it happens, the starting over again, the weekends of going back to doing something with someone that means nothing.’
‘Is that … is that what it really feels like?’ Sonya asked. ‘Weekends filled with everything, which mean nothing?’
Yes, that’s what it felt like. That’s what it had felt like for so long. That was the path she had chosen to ward off any permanence: loneliness. Publicly she was the woman with a man on her arm and a great career; privately she was still completely alone in every single respect. She had decided dating with zero expectations was better than dipping her toe back into something else, but now Andras had talked about hearts and keys and she had told him about Adam …
‘Adam’s getting married again,’ Tess blurted.
‘Bloody hell!’ Her friend reached for the ouzo bottle.
‘And apparently my mother doesn’t hate me,’ Tess concluded, snatching the alcohol back and putting the rim to her lips.
‘You spoke to her?’ Sonya asked.
Tess shook her head. ‘No. Rachel called.’
‘Well,’ Sonya said, grappling for the ouzo. ‘All of those things – you feeling something with Andras, you talking to your sister, Adam moving on with a skunk, because she has to be a skunk if she isn’t you – these are all good, good things.’
Tess put the bottle down on to the beach and took hold of Sonya’s hand. ‘Joey loves you, Sonya. He really loves you. Hold on to that while you’re here and I’m sure when you get back all this can be sorted out.’
Sonya nodded. ‘I hope so.’
‘I hope so too,’ Tess replied, giving her friend’s hand a squeeze.
‘So, what are you going to do?’
Tess let out a breath, her eyes travelling over the beach to the wedding-party tables. The sounds of laughter, music and Greek life travelled on the night air. ‘According to the Georgious all you really need to do to be happy is spit a lot.’
‘Really?’ Sonya exclaimed.
She smiled. ‘If only life were really that simple.’
‘So?’
‘So, I’m going to finalise the Black Velvet designs and I’m going to see what tomorrow brings in Corfu Town.’
Sonya slipped her arm through Tess’s and leaned her head on her shoulder. ‘I want to be Greek,’ she said a little sleepily. ‘I want to buy a little house by the sea with flowers everywhere and blue and white tables and chairs. And I would hang those decorative evil eyes all over it and fill it with cats. Well, perhaps not fill it with cats because they would probably try to chase all the lovely lizards away, but there will be cats, and maybe a bird, if they can get on together. I’ve always wanted a canary, and I could crochet a cover for the cage and …’
Tess closed her eyes and let Sonya talk about her dream house in the sun, all the while wondering if her life back in London was ever going to be the same again after this holiday.
Fifty-seven
Taverna Georgiou
This was ridiculous. Why had he put on a tie? Andras put his fingers around the knot of black material and tugged it away from his neck. It was a twenty-five-degree morning and, being accustomed to the heat, it really shouldn’t be bothering him, but today was his last chance. If the bank s
aid no to the idea of a loan then he had two choices: to stay in the business with his mother or to sell his share to her or someone else and … he didn’t know what came after that. He hadn’t thought that Spiros getting married and leaving the island was going to have such an effect on his life, but it was.
‘Andras, we only have ten tomatoes.’
It was Dorothea, stood at the kitchen door with two tomatoes in each hand, as if exhibiting proof. This was all he needed. And what was happening to his stock? He always carefully controlled it and Hector had been in his pen when he’d left the house.
‘Good morning, Dorothea! Good morning, Andras!’
It was his mother, Marietta at her heels again. He checked his watch. He needed to pick up Tess and Sonya in less than ten minutes.
‘We have no tomatoes,’ Dorothea said in Isadora’s direction, offering out the ones in her hands.
‘You have no tomatoes!’ Isadora exclaimed.
‘I am dealing with the tomato situation,’ Andras said, brushing down a tablecloth on his way towards them.
‘I took some last night to make the feta and tomato dip but I thought you would have more,’ Isadora stated.
‘You took some,’ Andras said. ‘From the restaurant kitchen.’
‘The family restaurant kitchen,’ Isadora added quickly. ‘The restaurant that will soon be half mine again.’
‘Mama, I have to account for all the stock.’
‘So, I cannot use tomatoes for my own son’s wedding dinner?’
He gritted his teeth. He didn’t have time for this. Babis and Victor would be here soon to continue setting up the tables. He needed to get in the car with the notes he had made late last night and head to Kalami Cove Apartments.
‘I have to go,’ he said, pulling the tie from his neck and pushing it into the pocket of his trousers.
‘Go?’ Isadora queried.
‘I have a meeting in Corfu Town this morning.’
‘What sort of meeting?’ Isadora inquired.
‘A business meeting.’