by Mandy Baggot
He watched Rhea’s chestnut-coloured eyes widen as he finally drew his eyes away from the sand and turned to her. He didn’t want to be looking at her. He didn’t want her to be here at all.
‘I do not need support,’ he responded coolly. He shifted in his chair, thoughts of everything he’d shared with Imogen today presenting opposition to his statement. He’d wanted to give something of himself to her today, wanted to hear her opinion even if he knew it would clash with his.
‘I called Manilos,’ Rhea continued.
Now the hairs on his arms stood and a cold feeling swept down his spine. She had called his office? She had spoken to his employee?
‘What?’ he said, the words like ice.
‘I wanted to know what was on your mind,’ Rhea continued. ‘You have been distracted these last few weeks and—’
‘And he told you?!’ Anger was coursing through his limbs as he gripped the glass, threatening to shatter it. If Manilos had betrayed confidences there was no way he could keep him in the business. He didn’t want the wider business community knowing the deal with Asp was off the table. Business circles were always quick to judge when they thought something had slipped through your fingers. Just like they had been with his father.
‘No,’ Rhea stated. ‘He told me nothing. That is why I am here. To listen. To work out whatever is wrong.’
His body uncoiled slightly. He liked Manilos. He was smart. Young but intelligent and willing to learn. Rather like him when Yiannis had been his mentor. Perhaps he deserved a promotion. He could give him more responsibility and start Risto off at the company in his place, learning from the ground up.
‘Pano,’ Rhea bleated, touching his hand with hers.
Immediately he withdrew, his mind flooding with nothing but Imogen. Their kiss on the breakwater, the taste of sweet fruit on her lips, her body close to him. Her fire and passion.
‘You should not have come here,’ Panos stated.
‘But I am here,’ she answered.
‘And it was a mistake,’ he told her.
‘Do not say that,’ Rhea begged, reaching for his hand again.
He folded his arms across his chest, leaning back in the chair to increase the distance between them. On his side there was nothing between them. He had had her simply because he could. Looking across at her wobbling bottom lip he suddenly felt like a monster. Cold. Empty. Shallow.
‘Rhea, did you think I did not mean what I said?’ he asked gently.
She began shaking her head, the brown shape of hair moving in one solid form. ‘I know you didn’t mean it.’
‘But I did,’ Panos stated softly. ‘I did mean it.’ This time he reached for her hand. ‘Because I am not good for you.’ He squeezed her fingers in his, locking eyes with her. ‘I am not good for anyone.’
Did he believe that? The answer was a resounding yes, no matter how much it suddenly hurt.
‘You are good for me,’ Rhea continued, her fingers curling around his, clinging on like he was a hand-hold on the side of a rocky mountain.
He shook his head. ‘No.’
‘But we can be… we can be good together. I can be…’ She paused, tipping her head a little to the right and pressing the tip of her tongue to her top lip. ‘Whoever you want me to be.’
‘Rhea,’ he breathed.
A plate of steaming hot parcels of pitta gyros carried by a waitress made its way into his line of sight. The spiced lamb brought back the carnival atmosphere of Arillas’ community market, holding Imogen in his arms, tasting her on his lips. He couldn’t do it. He didn’t want to do it.
He shook his head. ‘I am sorry, Rhea. My grandmother has a spare bedroom and you can stay the night… but tomorrow you are going to have to go home.’
She ripped her hand from his then, anger and hurt mixing with the beginnings of tears in her eyes. ‘No, I won’t.’ She sniffed. ‘I won’t let you do this.’ She got to her feet, snatching up her designer handbag.
He watched the tears dispel then, as she rushed into the restaurant heading in the direction of the toilets. Right now it was as if the beauty of the day had never existed.
43
Halloumi, Acharavi Beachfront
The large green truck blocked the sea view and the pinkish hue of the sky as the sun descended to the west. Three men in overalls were currently walking through the restaurant carrying the last of the brand-new single beds destined for the upstairs space.
Harry was navigating them around the bends in the staircase as well as keeping an eye on Olivia and Tristan, who seemed to have gone hyper on bottled water alone.
‘It looks so different to how I imagined,’ Janie spoke.
Imogen then looked to the bright, white walls, the tables and chairs still currently bare but looking clean, the tiled floor showing only a layer of sand where the delivery men had walked. It was a miracle it looked this way considering how it had looked the day they had arrived. Her eyes moved to the patch of land next to the restaurant. She needed to ask Elpida if she knew who owned it. There was no time to lose strengthening Harry’s foothold on the seafront.
‘It’s on the verge of being beautiful,’ Janie continued. ‘Really beautiful.’
Imogen felt her body relax at Janie’s words and she smiled. ‘Yes,’ she answered. ‘It is.’
Janie picked up the glass and made to drink. Realising it was empty she put it down again. ‘I mean, as you know, my first thoughts were a bit “Greece, for God’s sake”. Greece! A place the BBC haven’t stopped going on about for months. Financial crisis, refugee crisis, hashtag Grexit…’
‘But then you thought My Family and Other Animals?’ Imogen offered.
‘What? Do you mean that scrawny cat I saw sitting outside?’
‘No.’ Imogen sighed. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘But then you started sending the photos,’ Janie said. ‘And I remembered.’
‘Remembered?’
‘Remembered all the gorgeous weeks Harry and I spent here.’ Janie lifted her face up to the sun, closing her eyes to the heat. ‘Sand, sea and souvlaki in pretty little tavernas just like this one. It was so relaxed, so utterly blissful.’ Another breath left her. ‘And then I had the children showing me emojis of prawns and all Harry’s excited talk and I didn’t really know what I was thinking. I think maybe I thought it would be the horror it was to begin with, but secretly I think I was hoping it was like this.’ Janie opened her eyes again. ‘I mean there aren’t any curtains… and the bathroom upstairs is far from Victoria Plumb, but…’
‘Well, we’ve been concentrating on the communal areas,’ Imogen jumped in. ‘The kitchen has been the priority and this main room of the restaurant. I’ve cleaned everything. I’ve made the upstairs as comfortable as possible and Harry has worked so hard, until late into the night. Then he’s got up early and started all over again despite some difficult circumstances.’
‘What difficult circumstances?’ Janie asked, leaning forward, her elbows on the table. ‘The language barrier? The fact Harry knows sod all about running a restaurant and is relying on you?’
‘Yes, and… a bit of talk about some of the other businesses along the beach being sold and redeveloped.’ She looked at Janie out of the corner of her eye, gauging her reaction.
‘Clarify “a bit” and quickly. Tristan said something about a nightclub and I thought it was sunstroke so I put a hat on him.’
Imogen immediately regretting going down this track. She should have kept quiet while Janie was being bewitched by the landscape and her memories.
‘One of the locals has designs on redeveloping the area next to the restaurant. Originally he wanted to buy Halloumi, but…’
‘What?! You had someone make an offer on the place and you didn’t bite his hand off like a famished alligator?’
Imogen let out a breath. ‘No… we didn’t.’
‘Why not? That would have been the perfect way out.’
‘Harry doesn’t want a way out. And you just sa
id it’s evoking all these wonderful memories. That it’s beautiful,’ Imogen reminded.
‘Harry doesn’t really know what he wants,’ Janie protested. ‘It’s only this nice because you’re here guiding him.’
‘That’s where you’re wrong,’ Imogen said, sitting forward. ‘Harry knows exactly what he wants and what he wants is you, Janie, and the children.’ She watched for her sister-in-law’s reaction. ‘Here in Corfu.’
Janie didn’t immediately respond.
‘He misses you,’ Imogen said. ‘He’s told me all about your holidays to Corfu. How happy you were.’
The delivery men reappeared, waving their goodbyes as they headed back to the lorry.
‘It may be a lot better than I thought,’ Janie began. ‘But just because we holidayed here and it was lovely it doesn’t mean the restaurant is Harry’s destiny. Did you check his phone for horoscope apps? Because at one point he had five!’
‘Janie, please, just give Harry a chance,’ Imogen begged. ‘That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?’ She swallowed. ‘No one flies three hours with two children unless they really want something special at the end of it.’
She watched her sister-in-law’s features soften, then Olivia and Tristan came thundering out onto the terrace followed by Harry roaring like a lion.
‘What do you say we all go out and have some Greek dinner?’ Harry asked everyone. ‘Kids? Fancy more ice cream?’
Cheering erupted from the children and then a scream came from Janie.
‘What is it?!’ Janie stamped her feet. ‘It’s a snake, isn’t it? Get it off me!’
Imogen bent down and picked up the speckled kitten. ‘It’s just the cat, Janie.’
‘He’s so cute,’ Olivia said, bouncing up to Imogen and stroking the cat’s head, much to its delight.
‘Is he yours, Dad?’ Tristan asked.
‘Well, he certainly seems to have taken a liking to the place,’ Harry responded.
‘What’s his name?’ Olivia asked.
‘Socks,’ Harry announced.
‘What?’ Imogen asked. ‘You gave him a name.’
‘Short for Socrates. I thought Socks was very Greeklish.’ Harry grinned.
‘Hello, Socks. You’re a lovely boy, aren’t you?’ Olivia said, tickling the animal under its chin.
Imogen’s attention went back to Janie, who was looking more bewildered by the moment. With her free hand she rubbed the woman’s shoulder. ‘The red wine is a bit rustic but plentiful and Greeks do pork chops as big as Chris Hemsworth’s guns.’
Janie sniffed. ‘With chips?’
‘As many as you can eat,’ Imogen said, smiling. ‘But personally I’d have the Greek roast potatoes. They’re to die for.’
44
Elpida Dimitriou’s Home, Agios Martinos
‘It is so nice to have another woman in my house again,’ Elpida announced, raising a glass of retsina in the air towards Rhea.
They were sitting outside the front of the house at the stone table, slightly in the shade of the oldest olive tree in the grounds. Lamplight and candlelight provided enough brightness to see and although the sun had now gone down, the humid warmth meant there was no need for covering up.
‘You have said this already,’ Panos stated. ‘Twice.’
‘Always so grumpy! Have another glass,’ Elpida suggested.
He watched Rhea smile and toy with the stifado his grandmother had made. There had been no time for explanation when he had pulled up to the house earlier with Rhea in the car. His grandmother, thigh-skimming floral frock on her body, had been clambering onto the back of Risto’s moped, a pile of linen in her arms. She had waved and strapped a helmet to her head and he was left alone in the strained atmosphere with Rhea.
He had given her the tour of the house to occupy the time, his patter like an estate agent, pointing out the advantages of two bathrooms and the panoramic views over the mountains. He’d looked out at the back garden and recollected his mother and father dancing in the moonlight as he, Elpida and Risto sang together and used sticks and pots as instruments, but he’d turned to Rhea and simply told her the number of fruit trees that grew there. He could tell she was still angry with him now, still hurting as they ate together, but there was nothing he could do to change that. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.
‘Harry’s wife and his children are here,’ Elpida piped up, topping up Rhea’s glass.
Panos nodded. ‘I know.’
‘You know?’ Elpida quizzed.
‘I saw them,’ he continued under his grandmother’s inquisitive stare. ‘At the restaurant earlier.’
‘The man that owns the family restaurant now? This Boris?’ Rhea asked, picking up her wine glass.
‘Harry,’ Panos corrected.
‘I thought the woman you were with was his wife.’
‘The woman you were with…’ Elpida repeated.
‘I simply gave Imogen a ride to Arillas to purchase some items for the restaurant,’ Panos answered. Still Elpida stared at him, that all-seeing, all-knowing expression on her face as his temperature rose. He wasn’t thinking about the candles or the tablecloths they had purchased, he was remembering Imogen’s hair blowing in the breeze as they sat on the bench on the breakwater and how the saltwater tasted on her lips. He reached for his drink.
‘You went to Arillas,’ Elpida said. ‘It is their community market day today, no?’
‘Yes… she wanted to do the tourist thing. Look for a good deal. Drive a bargain.’ He smiled, regaining his composure.
‘So, she is not the man’s wife,’ Rhea said again, her eyes homing in on Panos.
‘No,’ Elpida said. ‘Imogen is Harry’s younger sister. A lovely girl. A little thin… not as thin as you but… well, both of you need to eat a little more.’ Elpida picked up the bread basket and held it to Rhea.
‘That was a compliment,’ Panos assured Rhea. ‘I got some beds for them.’
‘You bought the beds!’ Elpida exclaimed.
‘Yes,’ he replied.
‘Well, that was a very nice thing to do, Pano. Very community-minded.’
He shrugged his shoulders. ‘We do what we can.’
‘Yes, we do,’ Elpida agreed. ‘So, how long are you staying with us, Rhea? And what can you tell me about what this boy has been up to in Crete for all this time?’
‘Yiayia,’ Panos said, a note of warning in his tone.
Rhea smiled at Elpida and sat a little straighter in her chair, bracelets jangling as she moved. ‘It is OK, Pano, I can answer.’ She dropped her eyes briefly to her plate before matching the older woman’s gaze. ‘The truth is, I can tell you nothing,’ she said. ‘Because that is always exactly what Panos shares.’
Underneath the tablecloth, a cream linen affair with black-and-sage-coloured olives embroidered on it by Mrs Pelekas, Panos grimaced. He deserved that. He had treated Rhea badly even if he had never intended to. He should have stuck to one night, not pushed the boundaries to weeks. She had become involved and he hadn’t seen it. This was his penance.
Suddenly Elpida let out a laugh, her breath blowing out one of the candles in the centre of the table. ‘This is so true! This girl, Pano, she really knows you!’
He smiled, glad of the break in the tension, but deep down he knew Elpida couldn’t be further from the mark.
‘You must stay for the folklore show,’ Elpida stated, banging her fist on the stone table.
‘What?’ Panos exclaimed.
‘When is that?’ Rhea asked.
‘I am afraid Rhea has to go back to Crete very soon,’ Panos objected.
‘It is the day after tomorrow,’ Elpida steamed on. ‘Halloumi is going to have a stall. It is going to be a trial run of the recipes before the grand opening.’
‘Yiayia…’
‘It is a very special day in Acharavi. There are stalls and music and at night is the festival with dancing and fireworks and the sea with flaming boats… It really is something to see!’
&
nbsp; ‘I told you, it is sad but Rhea must leave,’ Panos insisted.
‘I do not have to leave,’ Rhea replied.
He lowered his voice. ‘We discussed this.’
‘No. You decided. Not me.’
Her brown eyes challenged him to contradict her. He should have paid for her to have a room in the village. Why had he brought her here, to Elpida’s home? Because of guilt?
He got up from his seat and made a grab for the bottle they’d been sharing. ‘I will get more wine.’
* * *
Fifteen minutes later he was still in the kitchen, his eyes on the moon-shaped clock above the range, the second hand ticking relentlessly but never really getting anywhere. He didn’t want to go back to the table. It would mean facing up to the situation, when what he really wanted to do was run. But run where? Back to Crete? To his office to sink himself into some sort of familiarity? To Imogen? He let out a breath, his mind filling with her scent, the sound of her laughter, the blue crystal of her eyes. Like the moon-faced clock it was as if time had stood still in Arillas that day, a small snapshot of harmony amidst everything else.
‘Have we run out of wine?’
Elpida’s voice had him making a grab for the tea towel and wiping his hands in an improvised action that was fooling no one.
‘No, I was just coming out.’ He put the tea towel down, picked up another bottle of wine and turned to his grandmother, a smile of confidence rapidly restored.
Elpida shifted right, blocking his way like a grand move in chess. He stepped to the left to get past and she repeated the action in the opposite direction, halting his progress again.
‘What are you doing?’ he asked, standing still in front of her.
‘What are you doing is more the question.’
Elpida had her eyes trained on him like an accomplished sniper staring down the sight of his weapon. There was no avoiding her unless he wanted to dance a sirtaki around her kitchen. Even then he suspected she would be far more adept than him. He put the bottle of wine down on the countertop.