by Mandy Baggot
‘Bloody Hell, how did that happen?’ Freya asked herself as she picked up a menu and put it up to her face.
Eighteen
Freya spent the rest of the day sat on a sun lounger at the Calypso Apartments with her sunhat on and a white Calypso Apartments t-shirt on over the bikini Emma had made her buy at Agatha’s. The Daily News was not the only newspaper she was appearing in, much to her horror. The same photograph of her and Nicholas was also in The Today, The Herald and The Spectator. They had described her in one paper as ‘Nicholas Kaden’s female companion’ and in another as ‘Nicholas Kaden’s love interest’. The third described her as ‘the first woman, excepting co-stars, to be seen out with the Hollywood actor in over three years’. All three newspapers had asked for people to contact them if they knew who she was. She hoped no one who really knew her did.
She had paid Spiros, one of the Calypso’s waiters, fifty Euros to keep away anyone with a camera trained in her direction. She had also told him to keep the cocktails coming at regular intervals.
She had eaten a Full Monty breakfast at lunchtime and when she had been reading the agony aunt column in The Herald she had polished off a tuna and mayonnaise wrap.
It was now 4.30pm and she was due at the restaurant at 6.00pm. She took a sip of her cocktail and then her mobile phone rang.
She looked at the display and saw the name ‘Barbara’ flash up. It was her mother calling. It was such a shock Freya nearly dropped the phone into her drink. What was she going to do? She hadn’t spoken to her in over a year. Perhaps if she ignored the call it would just go away. She could press ‘ignore’ but then she would have to listen to a message from her later. She pressed ‘accept’ and put the phone to her ear.
‘Hello.’
‘Hello darling, how are you?’ her mother’s voice spoke.
‘Fine. And you?’ Freya responded.
‘I’m fine thank you. So how are things?’ Barbara Smith-Andrews asked her.
‘Oh you know, the same as usual. Work, work, work,’ Freya replied.
‘Really. So where are you now? On an assignment?’ Barbara questioned.
‘Yes I’m at this little junior school. You should see the little sweethearts, I tell them to say “cheese” and they all say “Dairylea”,’ Freya spoke, sitting up on her sun lounger.
‘Which school is it? Perhaps I know it. Something local yes?’ Barbara continued.
‘All Saints,’ Freya replied.
‘Darling, why do you always treat me like an imbecile? Haven’t I always told you you get your brains from me?’ Barbara spoke.
‘No, you’ve always told me I never apply myself to anything and what a disappointment I am,’ Freya answered.
‘Since I married Robin I’ve always ordered a newspaper. I like to keep abreast of current affairs while I’m eating my grapefruit in the morning. Well, since I’ve been slowing down and preparing for retirement I take three newspapers, The Daily News, The Today and The Spectator,’ Barbara told her.
‘Get to the point Mother,’ Freya said with a sigh, knowing now she had seen the photograph.
‘You’re in Corfu. There’s a photograph of you in all three newspapers with Nicholas Kaden, the actor,’ Barbara announced.
‘Is there? Are you sure it’s me? Nicholas who?’ Freya responded.
‘Nicholas Kaden. The actor who won an Oscar for his performance in that brilliant World War II film about the Nazi who helped some of the prisoners escape. What was it called?’ Barbara asked her.
‘Turncoat,’ Freya answered, already bored with the conversation.
‘Yes, that was it, Turncoat. So, are you dating him? You’re holding hands,’ Barbara wanted to know.
‘Mother, why are you calling me?’ Freya asked her.
‘To see how you are and to see what’s happening in your life.’
‘So you can tell the ladies down the golf club,’ Freya stated.
‘No.’
‘Well the truth is it’s all a bit delicate really, for me and Mr Kaden. See, I don’t take photographs for a living any more, I’m actually an escort to the stars. Last week I accompanied Tom Selleck to a black tie charity dinner hosted by your friend Donald Trump,’ Freya spoke, flicking through her newspaper as she did so.
‘I am trying to build bridges here,’ Barbara said.
‘No you’re not Mother. You’ve just discovered my life is a little more interesting than it was the last time you spoke to me, which was about a year ago, and you just want to feed on the information to tell your pals at the golf club,’ Freya snapped.
‘It hasn’t been a year,’ Barbara said quietly.
‘I’ll give you a clue. The last time I spoke to you it was about six weeks after my twenty ninth birthday and hey Mum, guess what? I was thirty, four days ago. Thanks for the card and flowers,’ Freya said.
‘You know I’ve never been one for birthdays,’ Barbara spoke.
‘Except when it comes to your own.’
‘So are you dating him or not?’ Barbara queried.
‘Tell the Golf Club Gals I have Nicholas Kaden on week days and Clint Eastwood at weekends. That has to be worth a couple of gins,’ Freya replied.
‘I don’t know how you ended up this way Jane,’ Barbara spoke.
‘Yes you do. You know exactly how I ended up this way. Goodbye Mother,’ Freya said and she ended the call.
Every time they spoke it was harder and harder for Freya to believe that her mother was her mother. There was not a maternal bone in the woman’s body and she had absolutely no concern for anyone but herself. Freya felt nothing for her. Her mother was Mrs Superficial.
At 6.00pm Freya was at Petroholis Restaurant being given instructions by Mrs Petroholis. She was trying to listen to what she was being told but she was also pulling hard at the white shirt she was wearing. It was far too tight across the chest. The only godsend was that it was buttoned up at the back and not the front. The skirt was on the snug side too and Freya was glad she wouldn’t be sitting down in it at all.
‘Now all you have to think about is taking the orders. Yiannis and Mr P will do the rest. Is OK?’ Mrs Petroholis asked Freya.
‘Yes, that’s all fine. Table numbers are clearly marked, Melissa and Leandros know everything if I have any questions,’ Freya said, speaking of the other servers.
‘Good, good. So, come, we have a drink before we open,’ Mrs Petroholis spoke and she led Freya over to the bar area.
She poured out two small glasses of retsina and gave one to Freya.
‘Yammas!’ she said knocking her glass with Freya’s.
‘Yammas!’ Freya repeated and downed the liquid.
‘Drinking before you work huh?’ Yiannis spoke as he appeared from inside with a large metal container filled with condiments.
‘It’s your mother, she made me,’ Freya answered.
‘You should be quiet. I know exactly how much red wine goes into the cooking and how much does not,’ Mrs Petroholis told her son.
‘Busted,’ Freya whispered to Yiannis.
‘Oil and vinegar, all tables,’ Yiannis spoke and he passed the heavy tray to Freya.
By 8.00pm that evening Freya had served thirty tables of people. Waiting tables was coming back to her. She had quickly recalled that hot soup could scald, ice cream had to be put in a cold dish, not one straight from the dishwasher, and main courses were generally served after starters. However, despite the mild mishaps, she had collected forty Euros in tips.
It was an extremely warm evening and the nylon skirt was making her awfully itchy. She had been forced to tie her hair back with an elastic band and the tendrils that had escaped were now being held back by bulldog clips.
There had been two photographers outside the restaurant since opening. They had taken photos when Freya had spilt ice cream over a three year old boy and when she had broken off the cork in an expensive bottle of red wine. In the end Freya had taken them out some drinks, heavily infused with Yiannis’ prescription eye drop
s. They had left within the hour.
‘One garlic bread, one loukanika, one taramasalata and one houmous. Is there anything else I can get you?’ Freya spoke as she put plates down in front of a table of customers.
Her attention was quickly drawn away from the table to the entrance of the restaurant where a group had gathered and cameras were beginning to flash. It was Nicholas, accompanied by Hilary, Martha, Gene and Bob. Freya’s lips tightened at the sight of the latter two as she had hoped to avoid them for as long as she was able.
‘Excuse me, could we have another bottle of white wine please?’ the gentleman at Freya’s table asked her for the third time.
‘I’m sorry, of course. I’ll just get that for you,’ Freya said and she left the table and headed for the kitchen.
‘Oh Mrs P, do I look a fright?’ Freya questioned as she tried to see her reflection in the door of the stainless steel fridge.
‘You look like you are working hard. That is how a waitress should look,’ Mrs Petroholis replied.
‘I look terrible,’ Freya announced with a sigh.
‘You look even more terrible if table sixteen no get their steaks,’ Mrs Petroholis spoke and she handed Freya two plates and two dishes of vegetables.
‘Sorry, OK,’ Freya said and she headed out of the kitchen again.
Nicholas and his group were sat only a little way from the entrance to the kitchen, as the back of the restaurant was a lot more private than the front or sides. This was due to the fact that the front and sides all had open access to the harbour.
Freya delivered the food for table sixteen and passed Yiannis on the way.
‘Your friends at table two have asked for you,’ Yiannis spoke with a wink.
‘Something wrong with your eye Yiannis?’ Freya asked him.
‘Yes, you took the last of my eye drops,’ he answered.
‘Could you deal with table twenty five then? They want another bottle of medium white,’ Freya told him.
‘No problem, I’ll do it, go on,’ he urged her.
Freya took a deep breath and headed towards the table where Nicholas was sat. As she approached, Nicholas stood up, left the table and went towards her. He was wearing a light blue cotton shirt and pale blue jeans with sandals.
‘Hey,’ he greeted and he kissed her cheek.
‘Hi,’ Freya replied, feeling herself blush.
‘You look harassed,’ he remarked, holding her hands.
‘I’m fine; we’re just really busy tonight, as you can see. I didn’t realise you were bringing Dumb and Dumber with you,’ Freya said, indicating Bob and Gene.
‘No, well neither did I. It was supposed to be Martha and I talking through a couple of things and then Hilary invited herself and wherever she goes Gene and Bob aren’t far behind,’ Nicholas replied.
‘Can I spit in their soup?’ Freya asked him.
‘Of course. I would expect nothing less after what they said about you,’ Nicholas answered.
‘No Roger? Who’s guarding your body?’ Freya wanted to know.
‘I was rather hoping you might,’ Nicholas replied with a smile.
‘Unfortunately I already have a job tonight and as that’s the case I’d better take your order,’ Freya said, getting out her notepad and pen.
They went back to the table and Nicholas retook his seat.
‘Hello again everyone. Shall I get you some drinks while you look at the menu?’ Freya asked the group.
‘What does everyone want?’ Nicholas asked them all.
‘I’ll have a gin and tonic with no ice and a dash of lime - in a tall glass with a slice of lemon,’ Martha spoke as Freya jotted it down.
‘I’ll have a beer. Make it a large one,’ Gene spoke.
His comment and emphasis on the word ‘large’ made Bob start laughing so much he had to cover his mouth with his napkin.
‘Is something funny?’ Nicholas asked, fixing them both with a stare.
‘No Nick, not at all, sorry. Gene was just referring to something we were discussing last night. I’ll have a large beer too,’ Bob answered hurriedly.
Freya looked up from her notepad and glared at Gene.
‘Freya, I’ll have a mineral water,’ Nicholas told her.
‘Still or sparkling Sir?’ Freya asked him, looking up from her pad again.
‘Bubbly works best for me,’ Nicholas replied with a smile.
‘I’ll have the same,’ Hilary answered, moving her chair closer to Nicholas.
‘Fine, good. Well I’ll go and get your drinks and I’ll be back for your food order in a few minutes,’ Freya spoke politely and she left the table and headed for the bar.
If she managed to get through the evening without punching Gene or Bob it would be a miracle. She gave the drinks order to Leandros and ate an olive from the small pot on the bar. She had to maintain a calm exterior, particularly as she was working for Mr and Mrs P. She didn’t want to let them down.
Freya collected the drinks from Leandros but just as she was about to move away, she caught sight of a condiments tray at the corner of the bar. It was just too tempting. She took a container of pepper and shook a good portion of it into Gene and Bob’s beers. She stirred the drinks with a straw and then carried the tray over to the table.
‘One gin and tonic with no ice, with lime and a slice of lemon in the tallest glass we have. Two large beers and two mineral sparkling waters,’ Freya said as she put the drinks down in front of everyone.
Gene took a swig of his drink and looked at the liquid with suspicion.
‘It’s Amstel, is that OK for you? I could get you a Mythos, if you would prefer,’ Freya spoke with a smile of helpfulness.
‘It’s fine,’ Gene answered.
‘Right, is everyone ready to order or shall I give you a few more minutes?’ Freya offered.
‘I think we’re good right?’ Nicholas asked everyone.
No one disagreed.
‘OK I’ll have tzatziki to start with followed by the meatballs and for dessert - well I haven’t quite made my mind up about that yet,’ Nicholas spoke and he gave Freya a suggestive look which made her cheeks redden again.
‘Just a small Greek salad for me,’ Hilary spoke.
‘And for main course?’ Freya questioned, looking up at the actress.
‘That is my main course,’ Hilary answered.
‘Oh sorry, I do apologise, one Greek salad. And for you Martha?’ Freya asked.
‘What would you recommend?’ Martha questioned, looking up at Freya with cold eyes.
‘The meatballs for main and for starter the local sausage loukanika is very good or the pastry parcels filled with cheese. That’s called tyropita,’ Freya told her.
‘And which items on the menu are low GI?’ Martha asked with a smile.
‘I’m not sure on that but all of them are definitely one hundred percent BL,’ Freya told her.
‘What is that?’ Hilary questioned.
‘Bloody lovely,’ Freya answered, much to Nicholas’ amusement.
‘I’ll have the pastry parcels and the meatballs,’ Martha told her and snapped her menu shut.
Freya turned to Gene next.
‘And for you?’ she asked through gritted teeth.
‘I’ll have the melon, followed by chicken souvlaki with vegetables and roast potatoes. Tell the chef not to overcook the meat - oh and I would like a large portion,’ Gene remarked with a straight face.
Bob coughed loudly into his napkin, hiding his face.
‘What the Hell is wrong with you two?’ Nicholas asked, raising his voice.
‘It’s a private joke, sorry. We shouldn’t be so rude,’ Gene responded.
‘No you damn well shouldn’t,’ Nicholas agreed.
‘It’s OK Nick, let them have their fun. What would you like a large portion of Bob? Hair perhaps? Shall I see if I can rustle up a toupee for you?’ Freya asked him.
‘Now wait just a minute…’ Bob spoke, throwing his napkin on the table and starting
to rise from his chair.
‘No, you wait. I realise for whatever reason, probably something relating back to your childhood, that you have an issue with my size, but we all have to get through this evening without falling out. I’m sure you don’t want any negative publicity for the film, so let’s cut out the wisecracks and we’ll all get along fine. Any more use of words such as “big”, “gigantic”, “gross”, “enormous”, “large” or “prize pig” and I will knock you both into the middle of next week, publicity or no publicity. Do I make myself clear?’ Freya spoke calmly, smiling at them both as she finished the sentence.
‘Crystal,’ Gene muttered under his breath.
‘Good. So Bob, what will it be?’ Freya asked.
‘Same as Gene,’ Bob replied hurriedly.
‘Good choice. Right, thank you for your order. I’ll bring out the starters as soon as they’re ready,’ Freya spoke.
She walked away quickly. Those guys were utter creeps. She made her way towards the door to the kitchen but just as she was about to push it open someone took hold of her arm.
‘Hello Freya.’
Nineteen
Freya turned around and saw Russell stood in front of her. Her mouth dropped open and she just stood there, rooted to the spot, unable to speak.
‘What are you doing here?’ Freya asked, her thoughts being blurted out before she could stop them.
‘Well that’s not really the greeting I was hoping for, but I understand you’re mad at me at the moment. I probably look awful don’t I? You won’t believe it but I’ve been travelling since this morning. I was delayed in Gatwick for four hours, and I’ve nearly worn through my shoes traipsing around Tie Rack,’ Russell told her with a sigh.
‘What are you doing here?’ Freya repeated.
‘I could ask you the same question. Are you waitressing? You look uncomfortably trussed up in that blouse,’ Russell said and he made a move to brush his hand down the front of her shirt.