Warmed by the pride in Yanis’ voice, I bit into the baklava.
‘So has Maria never served behind the counter here?’
‘Yes. When my son first moved back,’ said Mrs Manos. ‘But Maria found the chat of the customers – that we usually love – too much. Their sorrow over the loss of her brother and old job… Maria simply didn’t want to talk about it.’
Yanis dropped his head into his hands again. ‘Some days I hate myself. Me, Yanis Manos, I should be able to follow in my dad’s footsteps and look after my family, no matter what. But I can’t find any well-paid work to get Maria private counselling and whilst she is ill, I can’t do without my mother in the butcher’s. I…’ His voice broke. ‘I fail everyone. Then sometimes it all gets too much and I explode – like the time you visited to give us scones.’
‘Oh Yanis…’ No wonder he’d become something of a hermit.
‘Now, now,’ said Mrs Manos and rubbed his back. ‘Don’t fret, Yanis. You do your best. We manage.’
Yanis didn’t reply and my thoughts skipped back to Maria’s brother’s suicide. More and more impoverished Greeks, over recent years, had taken their own lives. I gazed at them both, stood up, and went to his side. I crouched down and slipped an arm around his shoulder. ‘I’ll do whatever I can to help. And it’s not charity – it’s just neighbours looking out for one another. That’s the only way any of us are going to get through these hard times.’
‘Efharisto, Pippa…’ said Yanis. ‘For…for…’
‘For just doing what you would do, if circumstances were different. I’ve heard the stories of how you used to help out elderly villagers with their home improvements. And I don’t know many people prepared to look after stray dogs. You have a good heart.’ I got to my feet and turned up my coat collar. ‘Perhaps I could visit you later in the week and see Maria? She must be lonely here, in the caravan.’
‘Maybe,’ said Mrs Manos. ‘I will talk to her. It is true, on top of everything else, she does miss her friends at the deli.’
‘I’ll come by. With scones.’
Mrs Manos gave a small smile. ‘Dear Pippa. You truly believe scones are a magic weapon against our country’s misery?’
‘No, but something sweet and satisfying can’t make matters worse – as long as Yanis doesn’t toss them across the floor.’
Despite everything, the butcher’s son’s mouth upturned. ‘Come on,’ he muttered. ‘I help you look for Mrs Valli’s dog.’
When I finally arrived back at the villa that night, and sunk my teeth into one of the clove and orange scones I’d made for the fair, I mulled over the Manos’ situation. Never more did anyone need a Christmas miracle. Never more did a family deserve one. My feet ached from all the walking Yanis and I had done. He had been determined to find the missing dog and, sure enough, we eventually did – back at Mrs Valli’s house, waiting to be let in.
My chest tightened. Although I could do with my own miracle – that is, my fiancé once again holding me close – my visit to the Manos’ house tonight had also given me some perspective. I had a job. My health. A comfortable bed for the night. Everyone on this island had problems – and, like them, I had to find some inner fight to deal with mine.
My eyes pricked as I thought of Niko meeting this Cleo. With her tinkly little laugh and flirtatious toss of the head, perhaps she’d be a tonic for him – as long as she was nothing more than that and didn’t encourage him to stick to his decision to call off the wedding.
I shook myself. I still had time to reassure him that we were the perfect couple – that we could do our best to ride the challenging times together, just like Yanis and Maria did. I texted him, in the hope that he was still awake.
“Happy Christmas, darling. I love you xx” I messaged.
No reply.
Chapter Fifteen
Wow. Christmas tingles ran up and down my spine. Santa’s Grotto looked charming. The local art teacher had draped shredded green and white tissue paper across the tent and red fairy lights twinkled across its front. Inside was a chair for Cosmo – I mean St Nicholas – and a small stool for the children. Next to this stood a giant cuddly deer, to which we’d attached antlers. One of the teashop’s customers had been a massive Bambi fan as a child, and brought it back from a trip to Disneyland Paris. Also, couple of weeks ago, I’d ordered artificial snow off the internet and for economy scattered it finely over the floor. The overall effect was still magical – or at least would be, for the under-thirteens. Over recent weeks I’d put together gift bags for the children, which included small pottery snowmen and reindeer made by Demetrios, homemade chocolates from Pandora and festive stickers from a Kos Town bargain store.
I glanced at my watch. Nine o’clock. There was still much to do. The fair would open at ten. I grabbed my clipboard and pen and went outside, where villagers prepared their tables and trestles. Deep breaths. Now was the moment I would find out if word had spread about Niko calling off the wedding.
‘The weather is kind to us today!’ called out Georgios as he set out my Tupperware boxes of scones. I gave him the thumbs up. So far so good, he was putting on a brave face; acting as normal. That was the best I could hope for, until I sorted out this mess with Niko. Sure enough, when I looked up, the sky was free from cloud and the last few days’ wind had finally dropped. Hopefully this was a lucky sign that the storm clouds in my love life would dissipate too.
I made my way around the stalls, to see if anyone needed help, holding my breath, waiting for someone to ask me why I wasn’t getting married. But no one did and the heavy sensation in my chest lightened. Perhaps Niko had already changed his mind. Thank goodness I hadn’t told Mum and Dad to cancel their flights.
Pandora had set out bags of her festive sesame baklava, plus cinnamon and sugar almond cookies, alongside gorgeous handkerchiefs she’d sewn. Demetrios and Postie’s wife shared a large table. He set out pottery animals and Christmas-themed figures. She’d made special jewellery bearing snowflakes and Christmas trees, along with scented candles. Both had forgotten to go to the bank to get loose change. However, this was a scenario I’d planned for, having stocked up with several extra bags.
‘No worries,’ I said and jotted a note. ‘I’ll be back to you before ten with some coins.’
A few local mums, well-used to participating in school fêtes, had set up a stall for people to decorate their own baubles. The Dellis’ farm produce table looked mouth-watering.
‘Save me some of that myzithra cheese and the garlic pickle,’ I called and glanced at a sign they had scribbled. In Greek and English it said “Donkey rides at the beach”.
And so I could go on – the table bearing Grandma’s hand-knitted scarves and Mrs Vesteros’ cross-stitched New Year’s cards…every business in town had contributed. The fish taverna and Olive Tree restaurant set up outdoor barbecues. Plus Georgios and Sophia were serving hot egg-lemon chicken and rice soup with sourdough bread. Inspired by my Christmas stories from England, a neighbour, with a penchant for baking had created some gorgeous mini chocolate logs, decorated with marzipan leaves and berries. Niko, who was up to walking now, had been absent all morning, apparently setting up a treasure hunt amongst the fishing boats with his cousin Stefan.
As ten o’clock approached, I handed out all the necessary change and helped fix tables that wouldn’t stop wobbling. I knocked on doors with a tray of my glittery jam bauble scones, inducing villagers to help serve food and drink where needed. I also spotted the refugees collecting at the top of the high street, no doubt waiting for the buses to take them to Kos Town. Quickly, I filled my trays again and headed up the road. Tired but smiling faces greeted me, along with a few running children. The colourful scones disappeared within minutes.
I also spotted Stavros there, checking names against lists and quickly ran my turtle charity idea past him. He nodded; listened intently – and finally his face broke into a smile. He thought the idea had great potential and reckoned his brother, Orion, would defin
itely want to get involved. He’d ask him to ring me.
Then, daring to hum to myself, in the spirit of things turning out for the best, I returned to Taxos Taverna, to help man Santa’s Grotto. I set up a menu for drinks adults could enjoy whilst waiting, including Metaxa brandy, hot chocolate and warm mulled wine.
I needed a shot of something strong myself, after Niko came in with Cleo. My eyes scanned the glossy shoulder-length curls highlighted with blonde, the cocksure walk and tailored jacket.
‘Ya sou, Pippa!’ she said. ‘My, goodness, you haven’t changed a bit.’
Seeing as Tomboy used to be my childhood nickname, I doubted she meant that as a compliment.
‘Lovely to see you,’ I said and forced a cheerful tone as every molecule in me longed to touch Niko. My Niko. I clenched my jaw as Cleo linked her arm with his. ‘How’s the estate agency business? Weren’t you going to be a pop star in Athens?’
Okay. A bit catty. I’m not perfect – nor proud of the way I spoke through gritted teeth. But their proximity to one another – the familiarity…it produced a burning sensation in my chest. My eyes scoured Niko’s face looking for the faintest hint that he regretted his decision. Plus I was on guard for the barbed comments she used to direct my way.
‘Cleo won a television talent show,’ said Niko, ‘but decided the big city life wasn’t for her after all.’
I tried to ignore the voice in my head asking why he was defending her.
‘You live in Kos Town?’ I said.
‘Yes. I’m divorced. Thankfully we hadn’t had children,’ she said breezily. ‘I’m footloose and fancy-free.’
Why did that announcement make me shift from foot to foot?
I glanced at Niko, drinking in those his adorable eyes, the strong hands and solid chest. I searched out one of his teasing looks or a quirk on his lips. He gave a half-smile. That was a start. I shivered as I imagined exactly how I’d show him, later, that Niko Sotiropoulos was my soulmate – my heartbreaker of a hero.
‘I must go and look at those cute pottery ornaments outside,’ said Cleo. ‘My nephews will love them. See you in five, Niko?’ Then she spoke rapidly in Greek.
His face lit up and he nodded as her arm slid away from his. As the door slammed shut, we gazed at each other. Niko cleared his throat.
‘She kind of invited herself over to Taxos,’ he muttered.
‘No doubt she was worried about you,’ I said and forced my lips to upturn. ‘I can see she likes me just as much as she ever did.’
‘Cleo’s all right,’ he said. ‘She means well. Beneath all that…’
‘Razor-edged frivolity?’
Niko shrugged. ‘Cleo has heart.’
He never could see her devious side. How she’d pretend to lose her pocket money, so that Niko would treat her to ice cream. I knew because she’s show me her full purse and wink, no doubt assuming I’d think her clever.
‘How are you feeling today? I was surprised to hear you were out of bed.’ How I longed to hold him close, run my hands up his back and remove the slightest millimetre of distance between us.
‘My injuries are not serious,’ he said and flinched. ‘Did you know yet another body washed ashore last night? A man his fellow travellers thought was accounted for. A bachelor. No one had missed him. He only our age.’ For a fleeting second, his face scrunched up.
I tossed down my tea towel. Within seconds, my arms had wrapped around his broad shoulders and like barbecue coals, heat smouldered between us. ‘I’m so glad you are safe,’ I whispered. ‘If anything had happened to you…’
‘But it didn’t. I am still here,’ he said huskily.
‘So am I.’ My pulse-rate soared as only a butterfly’s wing of air separated us. His breath teased my face. Our top lips touched.
‘Oh Niko, I can’t wait to be your wife. I’m so sorry if I made you doubt me back in London,’ I murmured.
Niko took a deep breath and drew away. My insides would explode if I didn’t feel his mouth pressed hard against mine.
‘I… Sorry, Pippa. Just then. I forget myself. I stick by my decision. We are just not well-matched. Me almost drowning made me see that. How could I expect you to give up the big city life? You are not at fault. I’ve been unreasonable. We should never have got engaged. It was foolish to do that based on summer love.’
‘Summer love? Is that…’ My voice broke. ‘Do you really believe that is all we had?’
His shoulders slumped. ‘Yes. Taxos is fine for a month but a woman like you will always be seeking new challenges.’ He raised his palms. ‘And there is nothing wrong with that – it’s part of the reason I love my go-getting, strong Pippa. But as I struggled to shore at the weekend, fearing for my life, I realised that I would at least be dying in the place I loved.’ He shrugged. ‘Can you honestly say that aged eighty, still living in this village, you would feel the same when your end came?’
I took his hands. ‘Yes, I can, Niko!’ Forget waiting until Thursday to tell him about my plan once I’d made more enquiries – now was the time to share it with him. ‘All I think of is my future here.’ I smiled. ‘In fact the detail of where we will live. Remember all those dreams we’ve discussed now and again, about living in our own little house? How strange it will be to drink coffee there, without Grandma snatching our cups away to read the sediment! We’ve been so busy these last weeks, but now the time to think seriously about moving out of your parents’ home has arrived and also…’
He straightened up and a weird expression crossed his face.
Oh no. ‘What have I said wrong?’ My heart pumped loudly.
Niko bit his lip and glanced at his watch. ‘I have to go. Cleo waiting.’ He stared at me and opened his mouth then closed it again. ‘Goodbye, Pippa.’ He left.
Cue that weird expression of his again. Urgh, how stupid of me to mention us moving out of his parents’, when he was still talking of us breaking up. Although I got the feeling there was something else he wasn’t telling me.
My legs felt wobbly. Surely his affections hadn’t so quickly switched to Cleo? Mind you, she was a local girl at heart, used to the Greek problems and culture. My eyes tingled. Had I pushed Niko too far? Had I acted unsympathetically all these months, like a teenage child petulantly demanding her own way? Had my behaviour re-ignited feelings he used to have for a glamorous childhood sweetheart?
I played back various scenarios in my head from my time on the island – Niko falling asleep in front of his meal now and again after a hard day’s fishing. Me catching his eyes open, in the middle of the night, a worried expression on his face. An uneasiness pinched my insides. What if he’d decided an English mathematician would never truly understand his country’s strife? With no answers to these questions, I pursed my lips and got on with the job in hand.
On automatic, my mouth upturned as the first Grotto customers came in. Cosmo was playing his harmonica in the tent and I hurried in and suggested he put his false beard back on, quick smart. A little girl skipped in and cooed over the false snow.
Like a flash, the day passed. The children’s choir sang at lunchtime and the treasure hunt and donkey rides all went well. Not many visitors from Kos Town came, but we still had the rest of the week. Those that did loved the English food and Grotto and parents said their kids had enjoyed themselves to bits.
‘Word will spread, no doubt – people are always looking for a day out that is easy with young ones,’ said Grandma, as darkness fell and we all relaxed in the taverna. Good old Iris. She knew when not to pry. She must have had a million questions about how it was going with Niko, but instead just squeezed my shoulder if she passed, or brought me a coffee. Niko still wasn’t back but I tried to enjoy a sense of excitement when Sophia and Georgios talked about Friday. The flowers would arrive first thing that morning, along with extended family. The fair would keep them busy whilst the rest of us dealt with last minute wedding preparations.
My mouth filled with a swig of rich Metaxa in hot chocolate, and I
tickled Apollo’s ears. We sat at the back of the taverna in a dark corner, me mulling over my clipboard. Having experienced one day of working at the fair, everyone now knew what to expect. Most had visited the bank to stock up on change for the rest of the week. My chest tightened as I recalled angry faces outside Greek financial institutions over recent months. How people had struggled with the transaction limits, especially on cash withdrawals. The sense of panic at not being able to access their savings. The despair at the acceptance of more austerity measures.
I focused once again on the clipboard. We’d left the tables out overnight as the weather was due to be cold, but dry. Yet one thing niggled me – the total absence of the Manos family. After last night, I could understand why they didn’t want to man a stall, but still…a knot tightened in my belly. I thought they might turn up. What if something had happened?
My mind filled with newspaper articles Sophia – who loved current affairs – had helped me translate. How communicable diseases, childhood diseases and heart conditions had all increased in Greece, due to less health spending. Ironically traffic accidents had decreased, as many Greek families could no longer afford to run cars. Yet family stress and break-ups were rife, due to arguments over money.
I stood up and put Apollo on my chair, before fetching my coat and scarf, glad to have a distraction from thinking about Niko – and whether he really wanted to get married or whether earlier he’d been hinting that…that he felt it was all too soon and we should slow things down. Or worse. Just remain good friends. Shoulders drooping, I headed for the door.
‘I’m just going out for some fresh air,’ I announced and left Niko’s family chatting about the refugees and whether any more would attempt to cross over from Turkey this winter.
My Big Fat Christmas Wedding Page 15