Desperately Seeking Summer

by Mandy Baggot

  ‘I need to catch up with my mum,’ Abby said. She moved and his fingers lost her. It was for the best. After all, Leon had an interest and Leon was worthier of good karma than he was. He watched her turn away and his insides thwacked at him.

  ‘Eight,’ he stated quickly, almost breathlessly. ‘Be here at eight.’

  She had stopped, briefly, but long enough to hear? He didn’t know. And then she was moving again, stepping back into the villa.

  Thirty-two

  Sidari

  ‘This is one of the prime spots for giving out leaflets,’ Melody announced, thrusting a flyer into the hand of the dad of a passing family. ‘I used to work a bit for one of the bars here. They had this tribute-act guy who could impersonate Bob Marley, some ancient act Mum likes – Billy Ocean, I think – and Craig David. Mum always had one too many ouzos and tried to get him to do Lionel Richie but he never did.’ Melody smiled at an approaching couple, leaflet poised. ‘Want to live the dream in Corfu? We’re having a party this Saturday in San Stefanos, wine, cocktails and gorgeous Greek nibbles, free raffle ticket for anyone who signs up to our newsletter.’

  Abby watched the woman take one of the flyers they had picked up from Acharavi an hour ago. Melody had decided their first stop to do handouts should be lively Sidari. Abby had only been to this resort once, last year, when she and Darrell had managed to fly over for a long weekend. He had moaned about missing football, but it was one of the few times she had insisted on a visit. And it hadn’t felt long enough. Back then, Melody had taken them on a tour of the Sidari night scene. It had started innocently enough, eating outside at a lovely restaurant called The Hive then degenerated into karaoke and watching a drag act called Lady Jayne. But daytime Sidari was very different. Beautiful sand and shingle beaches and a cool, laid-back vibe to the town despite the high concentration of bars, restaurants and tourist shops. Abby took a breath, looking out over the sand to the cerulean sea and finally feeling a loosening in her shoulders. If Desperately Seeking got a boost with this large sale, this is what her mum and sister’s lives would go back to being. Hard work to keep the business sustainable, but also relaxation in a place full of sunshine and none of the rat-race mentality that had taken over the UK. That’s what she wanted for them. That’s what she wanted for herself. She just wasn’t sure quite how she was going to find it.

  ‘What did Paul and Lynn really think about Villa Pappas?’ Abby asked Melody.

  Her sister sucked in a breath, tidying up the pile of flyers in her hands so they were all perfectly straight. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘That wasn’t what you said to Mum,’ Abby said.

  ‘What did I say to Mum?’

  ‘You said you thought they might go and see a few more houses but they’d be back to us by the end of the week.’

  ‘They probably will.’

  ‘Probably?’

  ‘Well, Abs, did you see what Mum was wearing this morning?’

  ‘The dress …’

  ‘And the shoes.’

  ‘I did,’ Abby replied. She waved at an approaching lady and stepped forward into her orbit. ‘Oh … would you like an invitation to our party? Wine, food and a chance to win a prize.’

  The lady took the invite with a smile. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I didn’t even know she still had those shoes,’ Melody said. ‘She sold the rest.’

  ‘You said,’ Abby remembered.

  ‘She’s been really “up” since you got here and started helping,’ Melody admitted. ‘I mean, I tried my best to keep her enthusiasm going but it’s been really hard.’

  ‘I know. I can see that. And from what you’ve told me …’ She suddenly felt really guilty for having stayed away. She hadn’t wanted to keep them both at arm’s length but she had been so caught up in The Travellers’ Rest and her life with Darrell …

  ‘She does need a man, though,’ Melody blurted out. ‘You shouldn’t be widowed that young and have no one new to share your life with.’

  ‘I did think about Aleko when I first saw him,’ Abby said. ‘He does have a look of Jeff Bridges.’

  ‘And he owns the business that wants to see us bankrupt.’

  ‘What about George?’ Abby asked.

  ‘George?! Taverna George?!’

  ‘He’s good-looking in an older-man way and he’s kind. He let you borrow his car. He’s painted Mum’s easel …’ She didn’t know why that sounded like a really bad euphemism.

  ‘I think she should set her sights a little higher than that,’ Melody said, as a group of twenty-something males approached them. ‘Well, hello, look at you all bronzed and gorgeous. How do you fancy a party?’

  Abby turned away as her sister went into full-on flirt mode. They had discussed the type of clientele they were supposed to be approaching – people who looked like they could afford to buy a holiday home, not people who were only here for the kebabs and killer tans.

  Her phone buzzed and she drew it out of her small cross-body pleather bag, checking the notification. Darrell.

  She’d previously amended her settings to display only the sender’s name and the words ‘text message’ so as not to be distracted by the headline opening … Did she really want to read it? It had been weeks now. Almost four weeks. What could he possibly have to say to her?

  ‘Oh!’ Melody exclaimed. ‘You’re here with your mums! Well, that’s just fantastic because your mums are going to love my mum and, while they’re talking about all the designer shopping available in Corfu Town, you and me are going to be drinking the bespoke cocktails I’m making.’

  Abby sat down on the low wall just outside a shop selling everything from water squirters for the pool, Greek flag towels, beach bags of every size imaginable, to mini bars of olive soap and all manner of hats. She opened up the message and read.

  I miss you. I’d give anything for another chance. D xx

  What?! What was he doing sending her a message like that? How dare he! How did he have the nerve to send it?! That was not the sort of text you sent someone first thing in the morning … because in the UK it was barely past 9am. She was furious! She leapt up off the wall, bursting with angry energy. She needed to move. She wanted to run into the middle of the beach and scream at the sky.

  ‘Abs?’ Melody’s voice barely registered as she began to walk down the strip. ‘Take a couple of invitations, guys and I’ll see you on Saturday. Abby!’

  Thirty-three

  Abby needed a drink. A proper one. Like a pint glass full of Old Fashioned. She swept up into a bar, walking through the main area and heading towards where she could see light and beach and a man stood in front of almost every optic imaginable.

  ‘Bira, parakalo. Fix.’ Beer. She had ordered beer. Why had she ordered beer?

  ‘Abby,’ Melody said, catching up to her. ‘What’s going on? We still have loads of leaflets to give out. Ugh!’ Her sister’s exclamation was directed towards the bottle of beer. ‘Beer? It’s not even lunchtime.’

  Abby sucked at the bottle as if it held long-life elixir. The cool, slightly bitter taste with the scent of banana and apple felt so refreshing on both her tongue and her mindset. She finished the slug, eyes going to the lure of the beach, other people relaxed on loungers, something she hadn’t even done for a second since she’d arrived. ‘Shall we go and sit down for a bit?’

  ‘What’s going on?’ Melody quizzed. ‘You’re acting all weird.’

  ‘Do you want a beer?’ Abby asked.

  ‘No … it’s the middle of the morning,’ Melody protested. ‘And I’m not on holiday. That’s the trap ex-pats fall into, you know. Making every day a holiday. Before you know it, you’re splashing crème de menthe in your coffee.’

  ‘That actually sounds nice,’ Abby said.

  ‘Wanging hell!’ Melody turned to the barman who was studying them like they were rare specimens. ‘I’ll have a … a … really, really weak vodka and Coke.’

  ‘Please,’ the barman said. ‘I will bring it to you.’ />
  Abby needed no further encouragement and she stepped towards the open doors that led out to the outside seating and the beach. The sun hit her skin and, just like that, she felt revived, alive, ready to cope with this new life-blip. She chose a table on the very edge of the sand, dappled in sunlight, a sandstone candle holder at its centre and sat down. One more mouthful of beer and she was going to … tell the truth.

  ‘I lost my job,’ Abby declared as Melody lowered herself to a seat.

  ‘Fuck!’ Melody missed the edge of the chair with her bum and slipped down onto the decking with a thump.

  ‘Oh, Melody, are you all right!’ Abby leapt up, reaching out for her sister’s flapping arms.

  ‘No!’ Melody shrieked. ‘I’m not all right. You’re talking crap. I mean, you can’t … you can’t have lost your job. That doesn’t happen to you. That stuff happens to me and …’ Melody got up off the floor, dusting her short pink pantsuit off with her hands. ‘If it’s really happened to you, then I’m expecting that mad little man from North Korea to push his nuclear button at any second.’

  ‘It’s true,’ Abby admitted. ‘Just before I came here.’ She breathed, strength coming with every nuance of this island – the sweet breeze, the smell of eucalyptus and mint, the sound of the gentle waves sweeping the shingle shore.

  ‘God, Abs, why didn’t you say anything?’ Melody asked, looking across the table at her. ‘And why didn’t I ask for a really, really strong vodka and Coke?’

  Abby smiled. ‘I was going to say something as soon as I got here, but then I saw how Desperately Seeking was struggling, and my plight didn’t seem quite as immediate.’

  ‘I didn’t ask,’ Melody said, folding her arms across her chest. ‘I was too caught up in trying to rip off Igor and … bar-dancing.’

  ‘And keeping Mum’s business afloat,’ Abby reminded her. ‘Because that’s what you’ve been doing for the past eighteen months. With no help from me.’

  ‘Does Mum know?’ Melody asked. ‘About your job?’

  Abby nodded. ‘I told her this morning.’ She breathed in the humidity, letting it scorch her lungs a little, burning in an invigorating way. ‘She was all excited about the viewing and the table was full of food. I thought she could cope with the shock … and she did.’

  ‘Wow,’ Melody said, looking over her shoulder. ‘Where’s that barman with my drink?’

  ‘Mel,’ Abby started tentatively. ‘There’s something else. Something I haven’t told Mum.’

  ‘God, Abs, seriously?!’ Melody’s hands went to her messy bun, fingers weaving into the nest of hair and poking it about. ‘You’re not pregnant, are you?!’

  Abby shook her head. ‘No.’

  ‘Phew, because I want a few more years of mopping up my own drool before I have to deal with anyone else’s.’

  The barman arrived with the drink and put it down on the table in front of Melody with a ‘parakalo’. Abby waited for her sister to take a sip. She was going to say the words. No matter what she thought about Darrell’s latest message, she needed to cite her relationship status out loud to someone.

  ‘Right,’ Melody said, putting her drink back down and adjusting herself in her seat. ‘Now I can cope with anything … well, anything apart from you telling me you’ve ditched Darrell, because that’s about as likely as Ellen DeGeneres turning straight.’

  No. Going. Back. Abby took a deep breath, her fingers curling around the beer bottle. She looked straight at Melody. ‘Darrell and I … we broke up.’

  Melody’s deep I-live-in-Corfu tan seemed to fade like cheap clothes on a hot wash and she turned quickly. ‘Parakalo! Another vodka and Coke.’ She had the barman’s attention now and delivered the final word. ‘Megalos.’

  ‘I thought drinking in the morning was banned in case you turn into an alcoholic,’ Abby stated in response to the request for ‘big’.

  ‘It isn’t every day I get news like that! I mean, Abs, you and Darrell, you’ve been together since … before … longer than …’

  ‘Ant and Dec?’ Abby offered.

  ‘What happened?!’ Melody was leaning forward now, her bodyweight on the table. ‘I mean, I know I thought he was a bit irritating and you know I hated him talking about work all the time and, well, his fashion sense … well, he didn’t really have any, did he? But, even after saying all that, I know you loved him, so …’

  Abby took another sip of her beer, letting the bubbles fizz over her tongue, the malt coat her throat all the way down. ‘He cheated on me.’

  ‘Bastard!’ Melody hissed. ‘Sorry, but fucking bastard! Who the fuck does he think he is? He cheats on you?! Has he looked at you? He has looked at himself in the mirror? He was punching so far above his weight in every respect. I always thought that.’

  Tears pricked Abby’s eyes in an immediate response both to Melody’s words of sisterly solidarity and to the hurt she still felt over the whole situation. But she had told someone. She had told her sister. That had to be a good thing. One more step towards acceptance … if it hadn’t been for this latest text.

  ‘He just messaged me.’ Abby took another sip of her beer. ‘Said he wants another chance.’

  ‘Yeah, I just bet he does. Arsehole.’ Melody downed the dregs of her first drink. ‘No,’ she stated with fierce determination. ‘No second chances for anyone who treated you like second best. He will do it again, as long as you let him.’

  ‘I know, but …’ She had to think about it logically. The years they had spent together. Good years. Months and months of perfectly content memories … why wasn’t she thinking words like ‘fantastic’ or ‘amazing’?

  ‘No buts. He dissed, dismissed and disrespected you. There’s no coming back from that, d’you hear me?’

  Abby nodded but her heart was going to take a little more convincing. Perhaps she needed to ask her sister’s opinion on something else … like Theo’s invitation to dinner.

  ‘So …’

  ‘Mum’s going to freak, you know that, right,’ Melody carried on.

  ‘I don’t want to tell her,’ Abby blurted out. ‘Not yet.’ She sighed. ‘She fills every moment she’s not worrying about the business or keeping up with Diana with talk about me getting married.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Melody said. ‘I was kind of hoping you’d get me out of the whole nuptials thing completely and have some stonking great bash she could talk about for decades to come.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Abby answered.

  ‘So, you’re not going to tell her?’ Melody said. ‘At all?’

  ‘Well …’

  ‘Because she saw this awfully boring leather briefcase thing on our last trip to Corfu Town she was going to get Darrell for Christmas.’

  ‘No, not at all,’ Abby said with conviction. ‘Just let’s get the party done and the Pappas Villa sold and then … we’ll see.’

  ‘Shit,’ Melody said as the barman returned with her stronger drink. ‘And I thought my life sucked … well, you know, apart from the endless sunshine …’

  ‘And the gorgeous Greek food,’ Abby added.

  ‘The beach barbecue trip!’ Melody suddenly shouted out. ‘You never came to a beach barbecue trip! We need to do that while you’re here.’ She downed some of her drink. ‘Totally not Darrell’s scene at all. Way too much fun.’

  Abby smiled, taking a sip of her beer. Suddenly life was feeling a little bit more under her control again and, looking out at the gorgeous sea scene ahead of her, she was actually starting to relish the thought of new horizons.

  Thirty-four

  Desperately Seeking

  ‘Good afternoon, Desperately Seeking.’

  Jackie had only just put the phone down and already it was ringing again. Abby had made lemonade. A few overhanging fruits from the garden of the next-door property, soda water, sugar and a squirt of lime juice, just like Chef’s from The Travellers’ Rest. She walked to the small table she had cleared of files and placed in the centre of the room, and put the jug down. The office was alread
y looking so much more clean-lined, devoid of pink and ready to welcome in new and existing clients. They had the lovely rattan seat set outside in the sun, with a parasol, should it be required, and then table and chairs in the cooler inside environment. Melody was currently quiet, biting her lip and concentrating as she carefully and decoratively trailed swirling chalk lines on the new blackboard easel.

  ‘Yes, we have a wide variety of two-bedroomed properties in that location. Have you been on our website?’ Jackie tried to scribble onto a pad but then looked up, hooking the phone under her chin and waving frantic hands at Abby. Abby grabbed a biro from the centre table and hurried to give it to her mum. ‘Oh … you saw a poster about our party on Saturday? Yes, that’s right, it’s from one o’ clock … The Tom Hanks lookalike? Um … yes, that’s right. Tom will be here.’

  Abby widened her eyes in horror. They didn’t have a Tom Hanks lookalike and she was certain there had been no mention of that on any of the invitations she’d had printed.

  ‘Melody!’ she hissed.

  ‘Ssh! Please do not disturb me now or this “s” is going to look like a number five.’

  ‘Melody, where are the leftover invitations?’

  ‘Abs!’

  ‘It’s important!’

  ‘In my bag!’ Melody stuck a hand out, indicating a hessian and feather item Abby didn’t remember seeing earlier. She rushed to it, opening the zip, parting the fluffy feathering and delving in until fingers met invitation-shaped paper. She pulled the small wad out and read:

  Your new life in the sun starts right here …

  You are invited to the party of the summer and the relaunch of

  Desperately Seeking

  North Corfu’s premier estate agency

  Saturday 15 July

  From 1pm

  Desperately Seeking Offices, Harbourside, San Stefanos Join us for cocktails and a light buffet plus your chance to win a fantastic prize in our FREE draw!*

  *terms and conditions apply

  No Tom Hanks. Absolutely no Tom Hanks. She had definitely talked her mum down from that idea and triple-checked the invitations before she got them printed. So why did this caller think there was going to be a lookalike?