Desperately Seeking Summer

by Mandy Baggot

  ‘Melody! Let your sister come in!’

  Eight

  ‘See! We’ve got rugs now and throws!’ Melody bounced Tigger-like into the open-plan space. It wasn’t a new, spacious, designed-to-make-the-most-of-the-space area, just a relic from when the previous owner had kept six sheep, two goats and a donkey in it. Rustic was Abby’s first thought when they had done the first viewing. Rustic sounded a lot better than ‘shit’.

  ‘You’ve painted,’ Abby remarked. The walls were now a pale lemon instead of the original colour, which could only be described as bogey green. And it was cool, the thick walls seeming to make up for the lack of air-conditioning.

  Melody laughed as she threw herself down onto the Grecian-patterned throw-covered sofa. Dust from the parts of the bare boards not covered by rugs speckled the air. ‘We didn’t paint it. George did.’

  ‘Do you want a cup of tea?’ Jackie asked, bustling over to the kitchen area. Abby’s eyes followed her. Still the same old cooker, one of the knobs cracked, the odd mismatched tiles with heads of various farmyard animals in no particular pattern above the wooden worktop.

  ‘Who’s George?’ She seemed to be asking who people were a lot since she got here. It made her wonder just what her mum and sister had been sharing with her in their telephone conversations. It didn’t feel as if she really knew anything about their lives here any more.

  ‘No one,’ Jackie said a little too quickly.

  ‘George is mum’s friend,’ Melody made quotation marks in the air before setting back to work on straightening her hair.

  ‘But …’ Abby started. ‘You told me about Derek and … someone with a lot of hats and—’

  ‘He just did the painting last year,’ Jackie said. ‘It needs doing again. I’m not sure I like the yellow.’

  ‘I like it,’ Melody said. ‘It’s better than that snot green.’ She grinned at Abby. ‘Do you remember the snot green?’

  Abby nodded. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Shall I make something to eat?’ Jackie asked, beginning to take crockery from the draining board and putting it away in the cupboards.

  ‘Not for me,’ Melody stated. ‘I’m working, then I’m going out with Igor.’ She turned to Abby. ‘You should come out with us later. We’re meeting up for drinks at The Blue Vine about eleven.’

  Abby swallowed. Meeting up at eleven. She had taken to being in bed at ten catching up on Orange is the New Black. But that was home. And this was her holiday. She could do something different. She could stop herself reminiscing about holidays gone before – sharing mezes for two and a large carafe of sweet white wine …

  ‘Did you say you were working?’ Abby asked, turning her attention to Melody. ‘Are you doing a viewing?’

  ‘I—’

  ‘Yes,’ Jackie stated. ‘She is. It’s this beautiful villa in the hills. Only small but with a lovely established garden. Fruit trees and beautiful flowering borders—’

  Melody broke in. ‘One massive double bedroom with a walk-in wardrobe, then a smaller room you could just about fit twin beds in. Gorgeous tiling throughout, modern yet traditional at the same time, you know, like grey and swirls and Greek keys and the neighbours are nice. They have a dog called Malcolm.’

  ‘Malcolm?’ Abby queried. ‘They’re not Greek then?’

  ‘No, Scottish … at least I think so,’ Melody continued. ‘I’ve never really been very good at deciding if someone is Scottish or Irish … or from Newcastle, if I’m honest.’

  Abby’s brain hurt. Was this how life was here in Corfu? Despite the picturesque surroundings, her mum and sister were like bundles of frenetic energy. It was making her feel the opposite of relaxed. Business must be good, though. Evening viewings surely meant more properties on the books.

  ‘I could come with you,’ Abby suggested. Although she had chosen to stay in England and not form part of the family business, the estate agency idea hadn’t been unappealing. She had quite liked the idea of visiting holiday homes like Laura Hamilton in A Place in the Sun, noting down distance from the beach and en-suite assets. It would be good to know more about what her family had devoted their last almost two years to and see them in action.

  ‘You can’t,’ Jackie exclaimed somewhat hurriedly.

  ‘It’s not that I don’t want you to, Abs,’ Melody waded in. ‘It’s just the owners are a bit picky. It’s taken me about thirty emails and phone calls to build up a rapport with them. They weren’t sure about selling at first and then I said how much they could get for it and what a prime property it was and … it won’t be interesting … and … there’s snakes in the garden.’

  Abby laughed. ‘Snakes have never bothered me. It’s you who hates them.’

  ‘I do hate them,’ Melody admitted. ‘Last time I went there I wore wellies and long socks.’

  ‘We’ll go out for dinner,’ Jackie said, clapping her hands together. ‘The two of us.’

  ‘Mum …’ Melody said a little oddly.

  ‘No,’ Jackie continued. ‘That’s what we’ll do. I’ll take Abby to dinner at The Blue Vine. Diana is always raving about the divine loukanika wraps and I haven’t tried one yet.’

  ‘Sausage,’ Melody stated with a snigger. ‘Haven’t I been texting you all week about getting some of that?’

  ‘Ignore her, Abby,’ Jackie said, pouring water into three mismatched mugs. ‘She’s just teasing. We all know Darrell’s the only man for you.’

  And there it was. The karma-pinch for someone who was hoodwinking her family. She begged herself to hold it together.

  ‘Dinner out sounds nice,’ Abby said quickly. ‘And I’ll pay.’ She may not have a job and would need some of her house-with-a-garden savings to live on soon, but she could afford a few treats. And when your self-esteem was as low as the belly of a native snake and you had been avoiding heartbreak splurges on Next.com, half a dozen small plates of food seemed like a well-deserved alternative.

  Nine

  Villa Pappas

  Theo looked at his reflection in the mirror on the wall of the living area. He had swept his hair up into a man bun but he just hadn’t had the energy to shave. It had been just over a week since razor had met skin and his roughness was definitely getting towards more beard than stubble. He hardly recognised the man he was from the man he had looked like just a few months ago. His hair had been shorter, his face clean, the epitome of business.

  As if sensing his reverie, a spasm invaded his right arm and he shook it out hard, the cool blue material of the polo shirt wafting against his body. A uniform. A warning from his father. He stared at himself almost critically. He wasn’t sure his father had ever understood exactly how the boat accident had affected him. He wasn’t sure anyone had.

  Theo sighed, closing his eyes as the memory threatened to come back. He had been driving the boat. He had been showing off its speed and prowess for the customer just like he had so many times before. It had been a perfect day for the sea. Hyacinth-blue sky, calm waters, but suddenly there was a swell. He was starting to feel anxious now, just thinking about it. It had been too late for him to drop the speed. He had tried to make a turn, pulling on the wheel with all the strength he could muster, desperately willing the sea to stop its surge. The next thing he knew he was being swallowed up by the water and the rest of his passengers were nowhere to be seen … The breath caught in his chest.

  ‘Hello! Oh! Wow!’

  Leon let out a laugh as he threw his taxi keys into the glass dish on the sideboard below the mirror and stood back, regarding Theo. ‘What is going on? There is a dressing up party and you are going as a waiter?’

  ‘If only that were the case,’ Theo answered, blowing out a breath and tucking the polo shirt into the black trousers he was wearing.

  ‘Wait,’ Leon said, studying him closer. ‘You are really doing something at The Blue Vine? Like working?’

  ‘It seems that way,’ Theo answered. ‘If we both want to carry on staying here for the summer.’

  ‘What?!’ />
  ‘Well, what did you think Spyridoula wanted when you let her in earlier?’ His tone was a little accusing, but he knew it wasn’t really Leon’s fault. His aunt never took no for an answer.

  ‘Theo, she had a bucket and a mop in one hand and a plastic box of tapenade.’ He sighed. ‘She said she was coming to clean and to make you lunch.’

  Theo shook his head. ‘Leon, when have you ever seen my auntie make anything to eat? Or clean, for that matter.’

  His friend seemed to stare through the bi-fold doors of the living area to the infinity pool, then beyond to the sparkling Ionian before he even thought about attempting to make good on an answer.

  ‘Spyridoula is not like a typical Greek woman in the usual way, except when it comes to getting her own way, particularly when it concerns family.’ Theo did up the top button of the shirt, then, thinking better of it, unfastened it again. ‘My father is thinking of selling the villa.’

  ‘He is!’ Leon exclaimed.

  ‘No,’ Theo replied. ‘Not really. This is what Spyridoula has suggested he says to make me get a job and pay my way.’

  ‘Oh,’ Leon said. ‘I’m not sure I understand.’

  ‘He wants me back home. Not in Corfu. Back in the boat business.’ He looked at his friend. ‘He will think I cannot cut it as a barman. That I will fail. That I will have no choice but to return to the mainland.’

  ‘Oh,’ Leon said again. ‘So, do I need to move back to my mother’s?’

  ‘No,’ Theo said quickly. ‘Not unless you want to.’

  ‘Are you crazy? I have three sisters and five cats who could eat me in the night – and I’m not talking about the cats.’

  Theo smiled and went back to checking his appearance. ‘This is a temporary thing,’ he insisted. ‘I will do as Spyridoula has asked for a while. And then it will all blow over.’ He knew his father. His father would be too busy focusing on the business, orchestrating press releases a-plenty to restore vital confidence.

  ‘So, you are really to work at The Blue Vine?’ Leon checked again.

  ‘My shift starts at six,’ he informed. ‘How do I look?’

  ‘Like you spent way too much time on the other side of The Blue Vine bar last night,’ Leon admitted.

  ‘I will clean my teeth again,’ Theo said, running a finger over his lips. ‘How was the taxi business today?’

  ‘Lucrative,’ Leon answered, throwing himself down onto the cream sofa that dominated this room. ‘Three airport runs from here and then I picked up a cute girl from the airport and brought her right back here to San Stefanos. And she speaks a little Greek. Said she had been here before.’

  ‘Did you give her your number?’ Theo asked.

  He shook his head. ‘I am not as good as you at that kind of stuff. Although I did tell her my family run the bike-hire shop.’

  ‘Well, the village is small, my friend. You are bound to see her again.’ Theo checked his watch. ‘Almost six. I am sure Spyridoula will be in a booth making sure I arrive.’ He sighed. ‘If I am doubly unlucky she will have brought all her friends with her.’

  ‘Stay strong, Theo. Once I have endured tonight’s family dinner to celebrate Spiros doing well at a test at school I will come down.’ He smiled. ‘You can take the lid off my bottle of Fix.’

  ‘Of course, there is an alternative to biding my time,’ Theo said, tightening the band at the back of his hair.

  ‘There is?’ Leon asked.

  ‘I could always turn into the worst employee the bar has ever had.’

  ‘Oh, Theo, do you think that is wise?’

  Theo moved towards the door, heading for the bathroom. ‘I think, if it’s bad enough, then Spyridoula might have no choice but to retreat.’

  Leon furrowed his brow and looked at Theo questioningly. ‘She really does not cook?’

  Ten

  The Dolan House

  ‘Right, better buzz or I’ll be late.’

  Abby’s mouth fell open as Melody skitted into the lounge. She was wearing a pair of scarlet-coloured hot pants with tassels dangling from the hem and a cropped top that was barely bigger than a bandana. In fact, Abby squinted, was it a bandana? The one from the last photo on iMessage? The one that had been wrapped around Melody’s head instead of now making a desperate attempt to cover her boobs? Her sister was also wobbling on the highest pair of heels Abby had ever seen. They were … stripper heels. Platform bases, PVC, completely clear. Abby wasn’t stupid. She had seen Lap Dance on Netflix. Something was going on here.

  ‘Melody,’ Abby said. ‘Where is it you’re going?’

  ‘What?’ Melody picked keys off the large wooden plinth on the wall at the edge of the kitchen area containing what looked like hundreds of identical sets.

  ‘She’s going to show the house,’ Jackie said, pouring ouzo into two glasses.

  ‘The one with Malcolm the dog next door. The Geordies,’ Melody said, slowly edging towards the front door.

  ‘You mean the Scots,’ Abby reminded.

  Melody laughed. ‘See, I told you I get mixed up with accents.’ She grabbed a silver sequin handbag from the back of the armchair.

  ‘But you don’t show houses dressed like … like … someone from Stringfellows!’

  Melody let out a gasp, both hands going to her mouth, the silver clutch bag hiding her lips but not the look in her eyes.

  ‘Sorry,’ Abby said quickly. ‘I just mean … if Desperately Seeking is a professional estate agency then you need to look a little more professional.’ Or was this how things were done on Corfu? ‘Don’t you think?’

  Melody’s hands came down. ‘Well, that’s where you are short-sighted.’ She pointed a finger. ‘You see, me and Mum cater for everyone on a very individual basis. That’s why we take so long to get to know people. That’s why rapport means everything. You have to make clients feel special.’

  Abby swallowed. Her sister was right, of course, but in the outfit she had on she was severely concerned about the brand of special Melody was pedalling.

  ‘Donald’s somewhere between seventy and death,’ Melody informed her. ‘He likes looking at my legs. Said I remind him of a girl he used to know.’

  Abby closed her eyes. It was all kinds of wrong, wasn’t it? And why wasn’t their mother saying anything about it? Or did she dress up the same on occasion?

  ‘You should get going,’ Jackie said. She put a glass out towards Abby. ‘Here you go, Abby. Have a pre-dinner ouzo.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know if I should—’ Abby stopped herself. Had she really been going to say ‘this early’? She took the glass.

  ‘Yammas,’ Melody encouraged, eyes bright and friendly again.

  Abby downed the shot and straightaway coughed, the aniseed and alcohol working like an evil duo set to flail her throat and seep into her liver. ‘Yammas,’ she croaked out.

  ‘Don’t get her too drunk, Mum, I want her to try Igor’s vodka later.’ Melody opened the front door then waved a hand, tassels on her legs vibrating. ‘Bye!’

  It was a perfect evening, the sun making the temperature a subdued early twenties and, as Abby left the house with her mum, she breathed in the mix of heat, dust and fragrant bougainvillea.

  ‘Best time of the day, this is,’ Jackie announced with a soft sigh.

  Abby looked to her mother and noticed that, although she had had changed into another shapeless chiffon number in leopard print, she hadn’t changed out of her flip-flops, nor had she refreshed her make-up. Back in England, Jackie Dolan had never been seen without show-stopping eyeliner and a fresh slick of Burgundy Blush on her lips. Not to mention the heels she still hadn’t seen any hint of in the hours she’d been on the island. Perhaps Melody had pinched them all to go with her nightclub outfits.

  Abby adjusted her handbag strap to settle on the cotton of her navy-blue dress, rather than bare skin, then looked ahead. The small winding road leading to the water’s edge was lined by old stone houses, their terraces shaded by grape vines, large pots spilling growing
fruit and vegetables as well as flowers. Further ahead she could easily see the neon of Desperately Seeking together with the waving shop banners advertising ice creams and the edge of rainbow displays of lilos and rubber rings.

  ‘Quick,’ Jackie said suddenly, eyes open, grabbing Abby by the arm.

  ‘What is it?’ Abby asked.

  ‘Ssh! Just keep walking and put your head down.’

  Jackie’s grasp was firm and Abby was glad her mother’s nails were short and untended. Falsies would be piercing her skin right now.

  Abby stooped a little but felt ridiculous. Who were they hiding from? ‘Mum, what’s going on?’

  ‘Ssh! Keep moving.’

  ‘Mum, whatever it is—’

  ‘Bugger, he’s seen us,’ Jackie rushed out. ‘Stand up, Abby. Don’t look like we were hiding. And smile … like you’re Michelle Obama.’

  Abby couldn’t help herself, she was definitely showing more teeth like her mum had asked, and she then noticed a man was approaching them, two expensive-looking boutique bags swinging from his hands. He was in his fifties, definitely Greek, with dark hair that just touched the collar of his pale-lemon short-sleeved shirt.

  ‘Kalispera, Jackie,’ the man greeted, coming to a halt as he reached them.

  ‘Kalispera, Aleko,’ Jackie replied.

  Abby racked her brains trying to remember from all the frenzied conversations she’d had since she got here who Aleko was. She was sure he wasn’t one of her mum’s failed dating experiences.

  ‘Yassou, omorfi koritsi,’ Aleko said, greeting Abby.

  Before she could do anything, the man had taken hold of her hand and was lifting it to his lips.

  ‘Abby is my daughter,’ Jackie said. ‘She’s engaged to be married. And she speaks a bit of Greek so you can keep your “beautiful girl” comments to yourself.’

  Aleko laughed. ‘It is nice to meet you, Abby.’ He shook the bags he was carrying in Jackie’s direction. ‘I have been to Corfu Town today. Extra-special gifts for all the customers taking advantage of the free spa day when they sign up with Ionian Dreams.’