by Mandy Baggot
‘Rhea is…’ Elpida said. She stopped and tilted her head as if expecting him to finish off the sentence.
He shook his head. ‘A friend.’
Elpida’s eyes widened, not accepting his response as a proper answer. ‘A friend,’ she repeated.
‘Someone I was just spending time with in Crete.’
‘Spending time with,’ Elpida repeated.
‘Will you stop doing that?’
‘Doing what?’
‘Just repeating everything I say.’ He threw his arms up rather like his grandmother did when she was frustrated by something. ‘What do you want me to say?’
‘I am trying to understand, that is all.’ Elpida continued to regard him closely. ‘Is she someone you are close to with your heart or just when your trousers are down around your ankles?’
‘Yiayia!’ he exclaimed.
‘What?! I have two children. I have an occasional date. I know how the world works in that department, whether you like it or not.’
‘I do not like it,’ Panos answered.
‘You have not answered the question,’ Elpida reminded. ‘Heart or trousers?’
His grandmother knew him too well. It was as clear cut as that. His heart had never been involved, with Rhea or anyone else. He wasn’t sure his heart worked in any way other than pumping the blood around his body.
‘Well?’ Elpida prompted.
‘I do not know why you are asking me this. She is going home tomorrow. Back to Crete.’
‘The girl cares for you, Pano,’ Elpida stated.
‘I know that!’ he blasted. ‘And I told her she should not.’
‘And Imogen?’
The mere mention of her name should not have his body reacting like someone had just injected him with a high dose of caffeine. But it did. Everything moved inside him. He shifted his feet, trying to control his emotions.
‘Now I see,’ Elpida concluded with a nod.
He swallowed, trying to maintain his stance. ‘Now you see what?’
She smiled. ‘It is quite simple really.’ She reached onto the counter for a packet of cigarettes. ‘Imogen is heart and Rhea is trousers.’
‘No,’ Panos jumped in quickly. ‘No one is heart.’
‘Pfft!’
‘I am telling you—’
‘No, Pano, I am telling you,’ she interrupted. ‘And I am telling you only two things now.’ She pulled a cigarette from the packet and rolled it between her thumb and forefinger. ‘You need to be respectful to this girl here. I have a feeling there was not a lot of respect shown in Crete, huh?’
He shook his head in disagreement, folding his arms across his chest.
‘And the second thing.’ She put the cigarette into her mouth, slipped a lighter from the pocket of her dress and flicked it into a flame. Sucking on the filter, she held the smoke in her mouth for a long moment before dispelling it into the air with a satisfied breath. ‘In life you can have many pairs of trousers, Pano… and they might not all fit like you wish them to.’ She took another drag before settling her eyes on him. ‘But you only have one heart.’ She nodded. ‘Remember that.’
45
Almyros Beach, Acharavi
Imogen lay back on the golden sand, letting its underlying coolness seep through her clothes and soothe away the heat of the day on her skin. The sun was setting, its last rays of light just clinging onto the sky before darkness claimed them. She closed her eyes and pressed the phone a little closer to her ear, waiting for her mum to pick up. As the tone rang she took a deep breath and tried to quell the ugly feeling sitting in her gut like unwanted indigestion. She shouldn’t have got involved with Panos today… or any other day for that matter. He had a girlfriend and that hurt. Had all his talk about keeping passion and professionalism separate just been that – talk? Was his motive like before – that first night at Elpida’s when she’d lamely swooned in his arms? How long would he have kept that pretence up, she wondered?
‘Hello?’ Grace greeted cautiously.
‘Hel—’
Her mother interjected viciously. ‘If you’re trying to sell solar panels or loft insulation we don’t want any, thank you, and if you’re going to say you’re from Microsoft and there’s something wrong with my computer, think again or I’ll call the police.’
‘Mum, it’s me,’ Imogen said, swallowing away her niggles.
‘Imogen, is Janie alright?’ Grace questioned. ‘She tried to call me earlier but we got cut off. Are the children OK?’
‘Yes, Mum,’ Imogen said quickly. ‘Everything’s fine. They’re here safe and Harry’s taken them out for some food.’
‘And the restaurant?’ Grace asked. ‘You’re not really opening it next week, are you?’
‘Yes, Mum, we are.’
She heard her mother’s breath, long and low down the phone receiver. Sitting up, she looked across the water to Albania, lights twinkling in the dusk.
‘Imogen, I’ve got some news of my own,’ Grace said calmly.
‘News?’ She swallowed. What sort of news could her mother have when she barely left the house? Had she actually left the house?
‘Yes,’ Grace continued. ‘And it’s all a bit overwhelming actually.’
‘Overwhelming,’ Imogen repeated nervously, her hand tightening on her phone again.
‘Yes… it’s April,’ Grace said with a shaking breath. ‘She’s left me her house in her will.’
Imogen’s body contracted then relaxed.
‘Her great-niece came round…’
‘The one with Martin Clunes’ boots,’ Imogen joked.
‘She told me the money and shares April had are being split between her and the Cats Protection and… I get the house.’ Grace drew in another breath. ‘I mean, all these years we’ve been friends and she never said a word about it.’
‘That’s lovely though, isn’t it? It shows just what your friendship meant to her.’
‘I know but… it’s got three bedrooms, a conservatory and a double garage,’ Grace answered. ‘What am I going to do with all that?’
‘Well,’ Imogen started. ‘You don’t have to keep the house. You could sell it.’
‘Really?’ Grace exclaimed. ‘Do you think that’s the right thing to do? I mean, April loved that house, I wouldn’t want to, you know, do anything she might not want me to.’
‘No, I know, Mum,’ Imogen said. ‘But she knew you were on your own. I don’t think she would have expected you to keep on her house as well as your own unless…’
‘What?’
‘Well, April’s house does have the view of the park.’
‘And you can see the river from the master bedroom,’ Grace added.
‘Is that what you want, Mum? To move into April’s house and sell ours?’
She hadn’t meant to say ‘ours’ but it had just come out. It was still the family home, one of her dad’s jackets still hanging in the hall. ‘I mean, yours.’
‘I couldn’t, could I?’ Grace stated. ‘At my age! Moving across the road. It hardly seems worth it.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ Imogen said. ‘What’s age got to do with it? If you can see yourself in April’s conservatory then what’s to stop you?’
‘I don’t know,’ Grace said, sounding a little uncertain.
Imogen closed her eyes again, listening to the sea lapping onto the beach, the breeze still warm on her cheeks. ‘Look at what Harry’s done,’ she said. ‘He barely thought twice about jumping on a plane and opening a restaurant. What is there to worry about April’s house? How to work the central heating and the dishwasher?’
‘You make it sound easy.’
‘It could be easy. If you wanted it to be. And of course, when I get back I can pitch in and help you.’
‘You are coming back then?’ Grace said.
The question shocked her. ‘What?’
‘Well, you seem so on board with this restaurant idea already. I thought maybe you’d get caught up with the Greek weather and the
ouzo and what-not.’
She wasn’t about to define ‘what-not’ or relate it to a handsome Greek cheat. She swallowed before replying. ‘No… of course not… I mean Harry knows I have my job at home and my NVQ and… you, Mum.’ Plus the absolute outside chance of a dream job with the Wyatt Hotel Group. She really should phone them again, even if it was just to put herself out of the waiting game misery.
‘I worry about your brother much more than I’ve ever worried about you,’ Grace admitted. ‘You were always so capable, even when you were little.’
Imogen swallowed, blinking her eyes at the darkness. Capable was such a weak word. It really said ‘you got by’ but never did anything extraordinary. Did she want that to be the watchword she was likened to?
‘Well, Janie’s here now and once she’s got over the flight I’m hoping she’s going to be enchanted by the weather and the ouzo and our fresh, clean restaurant,’ Imogen began. ‘And maybe also by the new improved Harry.’
‘Is he alright, Imogen?’ Grace asked. ‘I mean, really?’
She sat up, putting one hand down into the sand and swirling her fingers amongst the grains. She nodded even though Grace couldn’t see it. ‘Yes, Mum, he really is.’
‘OK then,’ Grace said, as if a weight had been lifted. ‘I’ll think about moving into April’s house once all the paperwork’s gone through.’
‘Good.’ Imogen smiled. Her mum sounded more enthusiastic than she had in months. Perhaps everything was coming together for all of them.
‘Oh, Imogen, I almost forgot. That woman rang again. Laura, wasn’t it? Or it might have been Lorraine. Anyway, she was from the Wyatt Hotel Group and she didn’t want to sell me a spa package. She wanted to speak to you.’
Imogen stabbed a finger into the sand, hardly daring to take another breath. ‘What… What did she say?’
‘I said you were away in Greece at the moment and could I take a message…’
‘And did you?’ Imogen jumped in. ‘Was there a message?’ Her heart was racing like a sprinting greyhound.
‘No,’ Grace stated. ‘She said not to worry and she would send you an email.’
She deflated. A rejection was coming her way.
‘Did I do the wrong thing?’ Grace asked. ‘I did apologise for the mix-up the other day.’
‘It’s fine, Mum, nothing to worry about,’ Imogen said, recovering quickly.
‘So… have you won a mini-break or something?’ Grace inquired.
‘No,’ Imogen said, sighing. ‘I don’t think so. She probably wanted to sell me gym membership.’
‘Oh well,’ Grace said. ‘If I remember rightly, April has some free weights and a rowing machine in her garage.’
46
Acharavi Beachfront
Running had always come naturally to Panos, but today it was hard. Today, when he should have been letting the rise and fall of the undulating terrain soothe his mind and pound away the stress, his brain was working overtime churning up anything and everything. His business. The reason he’d returned to Corfu. Rhea. Imogen.
Like a bird following its familiar path to hibernation for the winter he ran the same route he’d always covered. Out of Agios Martinos, down towards Acharavi, then onto the beach heading along the coastline to the tracks through the arable land in the direction of Agios Spyridon. He’d stopped for a breath at the old abandoned church, expecting to see the worn-down surrounds he’d remembered from his last run here years before. Instead, the property was painted in a warm buttermilk, a sign outside written in Greek and English proclaiming it to be Yan’s After School Club. Times had moved on, not everything was coated in cobwebs of the past here.
The sun was up now, soaring into the Greek flag blue of the sky in readiness for the day. Up ahead, as he jogged along the road, his trainers skirting the pebbles of the beach, business owners were putting out their blackboards, changing paper menus with updated special dishes and welcoming early risers in for breakfast.
There was still so much tradition here but there were also tourists. His home town was far from the run-down ghost town the media were depicting it as. The news said Greece was done, he had seen evidence of it in the capital. But here, as much as he would have hated to admit it when he’d arrived back on the island, there were definite signs of recovery.
He stopped running and just breathed, letting the familiar saltwater and sand air into his lungs as he closed his eyes. The community market had affected him. As well as harking back to simpler times, it had a feel that was as new and different as it was authentic. Despite his own plans for the beachfront there was a part of him whispering that he wanted to get involved.
Was that what he wanted? Really? He straightened his stance, grounding his soles into the tarmac. Was there much money in it? Not a big profit share for him perhaps, but a huge plus to local businesses. But liking the idea in principal was one thing… Was it something he wanted to help create here? Or was it an idea to take with him back to Crete?
‘Go on! Shoo!’
Breaking out of his reverie, Panos looked over to Halloumi. Imogen jumped down from the edge of the terrace, a watering can in her hand and two terrified-looking cats leaping for their lives just ahead of her.
Immediately his heart rate picked up to a level it had been when he’d been sprinting along the road at the back of the Blue Vue Hotel, passing the Pyramid restaurant and Bo’s Bar. He swallowed, wondering what to do. Right now he was probably the last person she wanted to see.
And then she turned, facing him. He was caught now. It was too late to turn in the other direction and pretend he hadn’t seen her. He started to walk, all the while hoping she didn’t backtrack and try to avoid him.
* * *
Panos was the last thing she needed right now but there he was, no more than a few yards away, making his running gear look like a David Gandy billboard campaign. She would act like a grown-up and be civil. She was blaming those moments of madness in Arillas on Greece. There should be inoculations against the romanticism before you were allowed to board the plane.
‘Good morning!’ she called like she was addressing Old Joe in the diner.
He waved a hand, drawing closer. She was not going to look at his thighs… or his eyes. She swallowed. Except he did have lovely eyes. And that firm chest had been holding her up in Arillas yesterday. But he was a love rat who had duped her and his girlfriend.
‘Kalimera,’ he greeted, stopping just in front of her, his hands on his hips.
Every section of mocha-coloured skin was toned to perfection and slightly dewy from his workout. Two-timer.
‘Where’s your girlfriend?’ she blurted out. ‘Couldn’t find a matching outfit?’
She sounded so pathetic she wanted to give herself a kicking.
‘If you mean Rhea, she is at my grandmother’s house.’
‘Of course I mean Rhea. Or do you have more girlfriends?’ She huffed a sigh. ‘Is there a whole Greek harem currently boarding ships to visit you?’
‘You sound upset.’
She knew she did and that was annoying her. She shook her head. ‘Don’t flatter yourself, Mr Dimitriou.’
‘I liked it better when you called me Pano,’ he replied.
‘I liked it better when you didn’t have a girlfriend.’
She realised her mistake the moment she said it. She had admitted what she was trying so badly to hide. Rhea’s appearance had annoyed her, got under her skin, hurt her.
* * *
He swallowed, looking at her. ‘Imogen, please listen… I promise—’
‘You don’t have to make any sort of promise to me,’ Imogen interrupted. ‘We had a few moments, but they no longer have a place here.’
He felt his stomach contracting. This was absolutely what he deserved. Imogen thought he had tried to claim her like she was one of the properties he wanted to purchase. She didn’t know that he had told her things he had never admitted to anyone.
‘So, as far as I’m concerned we’re
back to where we started,’ Imogen continued. ‘Me helping Harry and you wanting to take all that away.’
He nodded. ‘Yes, I can see you would think that.’
‘Well,’ Imogen snapped. ‘What else is there to think?’
He took a breath in, his eyes not leaving her. ‘That Rhea is not my girlfriend. That everything I told you in Arillas is true,’ he suggested. ‘But perhaps that would make things more difficult for you.’ He took a step closer to her. ‘Because then you might have to admit you feel something other than loathing for the man building a nightclub next door.’
He watched her breathing, her chest moving in and out as her heart rate increased. He desperately wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her right there on the promenade despite what was right or wrong about this situation they were in.
‘Imogen!’ Harry called from the terrace.
‘I have to go,’ Imogen stated, her voice trembling. ‘Apparently there’s a folklore day to get ready for.’
He nodded, his heart thumping a beat of disappointment.
‘Antio,’ Imogen said, turning away from him.
He watched her walk away. Who was he trying to fool? There was only one option open to him now. Work. That was all he had. He was going to get Panos Enterprises signs up outside Tomas’ Taverna by the end of the day.
47
Halloumi, Acharavi Beachfront
‘So this is the menu, is it?’ Janie sniffed and picked up one of the pieces of paper from the table.
It was early afternoon now and Olivia and Tristan were in sight on the beach, sun-creamed to the max and enjoying chasing each other across the sand. Imogen knew Janie was still suffering from the effects of last night’s wine.
‘At the moment, yes. It’s not quite finalised,’ she answered.