by Mandy Baggot
‘I’m only going back to England. It’s three hours on the plane,’ Imogen said. ‘Mum did it all by herself yesterday and I have Pano’s personal jet,’ she reminded them.
‘Pano?’ Grace queried. ‘I thought he said his name was Panos.’
Imogen couldn’t bring herself to explain the shift in intimacy now. She was sure Janie would fill her mother in later.
‘I’m going to miss you so much, Immy,’ Harry declared, his arms folding around her.
She closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of … was that kumquat or fig? She sighed. Her brother was turning Greek and she was going to miss it all.
‘But this is an amazing chance and we are all rooting for you,’ Janie chipped in. ‘That’s what he was meant to say. The non-selfish, what am I going to do with a wife who can only cook cupcakes, two children who just want to eat the food and a cat who wants to play with the food version.’
Imogen turned to Janie. ‘You made great baklava yesterday.’
‘I did, didn’t I?’ Janie replied.
‘And you two,’ Imogen said, addressing the children. ‘I want you two to be in charge of two people while I’m not here.’
‘Who?’ Olivia asked.
‘Firstly, Socks,’ Imogen said, indicating the cat who was belly up, eyes closed, stretching his body towards the sun. ‘He isn’t allowed in the kitchen.’ She lowered her voice. ‘But you can feed him leftovers when everyone has gone home.’
‘Who else?’ Tristan enquired.
‘I want you to listen to Risto a lot,’ Imogen said, looking to Panos’ cousin. ‘He is our head waiter and he can teach you two a lot about how a restaurant is run. Then, maybe when you’re older, you can run Halloumi.’
The horn of the Mercedes blasted and Imogen checked her watch. It was time to go. She looked to her mum last of all.
‘I’m so glad you’re here, Mum, even if I’m going back for a bit.’ She swallowed the knot of emotion in her throat. ‘Corfu is beautiful and it is time you had a few adventures of your own.’
Grace dabbed at the corner of her eyes with her fingers. ‘Remember what you said, it’s only three hours away… plus the car-mountaineering of course.’
Imogen forced a laugh and took one last look at her Greeklish family lined up before her. ‘I’m going to miss all of you,’ she stated. ‘So much.’
‘Pfft! Enough of this goodbye-ing,’ Elpida said, waving a hand over her face as if stemming her own tears. ‘We have an evening service to get ready for.’
‘Bye, Auntie Imogen,’ Olivia said, pigtails shaking.
‘See ya! Wouldn’t want to be ya!’ Tristan shouted, waving a hand.
‘Bye,’ Imogen said, pulling on her case. She turned away before the first tear began to fall.
70
Ioannis Kapodistrias Airport
Imogen looked out at the planes sitting on the tarmac, passengers disembarking in the plus thirty temperature, coming to this beautiful island for a week or a fortnight’s holiday. She had been one of them. Perhaps not looking forward to an all-inclusive break, but someone knowing nothing about this Greek island and wondering what she might find. She had never expected what had ended up being there for her.
There was the mountain range that dominated the island’s landscape and the green cypress trees, tall and slender, rising up as if they might touch the sky. Waves of heat seemed to bend everything in her sightline or perhaps that was the tears still congregating in her eyes.
‘Imogen.’
Panos’ voice broke into her thoughts and she drew her eyes away from the runway. The private aircraft that had taken Rhea just a short hop down to Crete was now taking her home to England.
‘The plane is ready. You will make a stop for fuel,’ Panos said. ‘But it should not take too long.’
She nodded. ‘Thank you for this.’
‘For what?’
‘That plane… Arranging it at short notice and getting me back for the interview.’
‘Of course I would do this. It is what you have been waiting to do for so long.’
‘Yes,’ she said, looking back to the planes but not moving.
‘I have something for you,’ Panos said.
She turned back to him, breathing in his now familiar scent, sucking up how utterly hot he looked in a slim-fit shirt and casual blue jeans.
He held something out to her and she took it. It was a pen. She twisted it between her thumb and forefinger, looking at the embossed letters. Dimitriou Hotels.
‘It was my father’s,’ Panos explained. ‘Back then he did not have pens for promotion like hotels do now but he had a small number. Like this one.’
It was an ink pen. A proper fountain pen with a heavy silver barrel and a blue body. But it wasn’t what it was, it was what it meant, to him, and what he knew it would mean to her.
She burst into tears, clutching the pen in her fist and putting that fist to her mouth.
‘Sshh,’ he said quickly, drawing her to his body, his hands in her hair. ‘I do not mean to make you sad.’
She shook her head. ‘You haven’t. You’ve made me happy. So happy. And leaving is so hard.’
He held her a little way away from him, gazing into her eyes. ‘You must do this, Imogen. Follow your heart, remember?’
She nodded, trying to bolster her resolve. ‘I remember.’ She sniffed. ‘So, while I’m away I want you to throw yourself into the community market project,’ she began. ‘I’ll never forget that perfect day in Arillas.’ She swallowed. ‘Make that happen in Acharavi.’
‘Imogen,’ he started, touching her arm.
She shook her head. ‘Don’t… Let me finish.’
He dropped his hand, but his gaze remained with her.
‘Call your mother,’ she whispered.
He dropped his eyes to the floor.
‘No, don’t look away. You need to do this properly,’ she told him. ‘If you’re going to move on from the past. You need to build bridges or you’ll lose the connection forever.’ She offered him a weak smile. ‘I know you know this but I also know that you haven’t called her yet and you’re terribly stubborn.’
* * *
He kissed her then, pressing his mouth to hers then gathering her body up in his arms, holding her tight, as if letting go would be the end of him. She broke off, stepping back as the tears welled up in her eyes.
‘Goodbye, Pano,’ she whispered. ‘I’ll see you soon.’
‘Antio,’ he replied.
He watched her walk to the gate, showing her passport to the woman on the desk before the double glass doors opened. She stopped, waving a hand before heading through and down the steps to the waiting bus.
Moving then, he positioned himself at the glass, looking out over the planes on the tarmac, his jet the nearest. He could see Imogen approaching the bus down the incline to the concrete, her small case behind her, steps slow. He watched her get on board ready for the rather ridiculous one minute ride to the planes.
He slipped out his mobile phone, pressing the display and searching through his contacts until he found what he was looking for. Mama. He would call her, like Imogen asked. He wanted to call her and make things right again.
Looking to the window again he watched the bus stop by his plane and the doors open. Any second now he would be watching the woman he loved get on a jet that was going to take her away from him. But it wasn’t forever. He had to remember that.
The bus doors closed again and he pressed his face against the glass, looking for Imogen as the vehicle turned in an arc and headed back to the terminal. Where was she? Had he missed her? The engines of his jet started turning. And then he looked back to the bus. The doors whooshed open and there she was, bolting off the step of the bus, case flying behind her as she sprinted back across the ground.
He moved then, unconcerned for anything but her.
‘Sir, you cannot go through there,’ the woman at the desk said, stepping sideways to try and detain him. He brushed past her,
forcing the doors to open, and running, taking the steps two at a time.
* * *
Imogen felt sick and her heart was racing but she was certain of only one thing. She couldn’t get on the plane. She couldn’t leave. She didn’t want to. She ran up the incline, hair flying in the breeze, everything sticky with the heat and then she stopped. Because he was there, running towards her. She dropped her case and flew into his arms, holding on with everything she had.
‘I couldn’t leave, Pano. I don’t want to leave,’ she rushed out. ‘The Wyatt Group isn’t what I want any more. It’s here. It’s Corfu. It’s my family. It’s you,’ she gabbled.
He held her, his skin pressed tight to hers, and then he parted them, looking at her with those charcoal eyes under thick lashes. ‘I love you, Imogen.’
‘Oh God, Pano, I love you too. So much!’
He kissed her then, to the hum of an Airbus engine, and she knew without any shadow of a doubt that her future lay here, serving up Greek magic under azure skies with the man she loved. And, as Panos deepened their kiss and promised never to let her go, she was sure, from somewhere high on the mountain, she heard a goat laugh.
Epilogue
Halloumi, Acharavi Beachfront
‘Ladies and Gentleman, if I could have your attention for just one minute,’ Harry announced.
Imogen, two dessert bowls in her hands, stopped moving and looked around at the full restaurant, customers in the middle of dining.
‘I don’t want to interrupt you for too long but today is a special day for us here at Halloumi and I thought it would be nice if you would share it with us.’ Harry held up a shot glass filled with kumquat liqueur. ‘Today is mine and Janie’s wedding anniversary,’ he said. ‘And in just a few weeks’ time we’re going to be renewing our wedding vows right here on the beach. So, I’d just like you all to raise your glasses in a toast to my beautiful wife.’ Harry raised his glass in the air. ‘To Janie.’
‘To Janie.’
Imogen quickly dispatched the bowls to the table that had ordered them and clapped her hands in applause. She headed back towards the kitchen and as she swung through the doors she almost bumped into Panos carrying two plates of swordfish.
‘Kalispera, Miss Charlton, but try and be a little more careful, huh?’ Panos said, stopping in his tracks and setting his dark, delectable eyes on her.
‘I think you’ll find it’s you who ought to be more careful. I almost ended up wearing that meal you’re carrying,’ she replied.
‘And what would have happened then?’ he asked. ‘Your shirt would have been ruined.’
‘And I would have had to take it off.’ She smiled, her eyes challenging him for a response.
‘You win,’ he breathed. ‘You must stop this or I will not be able to carry on working here.’
‘Two panna cotta! I have two panna cotta here! Cooky! Where is the compote for table nine?’ Elpida’s voice came from the kitchen. ‘Grace, we need pie!’
‘Your swordfish is getting cold,’ Imogen remarked, trying to move past him.
‘Everything else is getting hot, I promise you,’ he whispered.
‘Not in front of your mother,’ Imogen said, hitching her head over to one of the tables.
* * *
‘Sophia, will you teach me how to get my hair like yours?’ Olivia asked Panos’ mother.
‘Of course,’ Sophia replied. ‘But it will involve lots of brushing, Olivia.’
Panos brought the meals over to Janie, Olivia, Tristan and his mother. ‘How is everything for you?’
‘It’s all lovely and it’s still going so well, isn’t it?’ Janie remarked, eyes roving over the room full of customers.
‘And now, my mother comes to help us out.’ He looked at Sophia, smiling.
‘It is so nice to be spending time with you all,’ Sophia said.
That first phone contact with his mother was the day he had taken Imogen back to Acharavi after she had fled the airport bus, and it had been the start of the walls between them tumbling down. A tentative beginning had resulted in Panos crying his heart out over everything he had endured in his childhood followed by his admission of guilt in his failings – running away, isolating himself and cutting off one of the people who had been there for him until he had chosen for her not to be.
‘We can’t stay long,’ Janie said. ‘These two have to be at school next week. Then it’s the vow renewal and then we need to look at things properly.’
‘We don’t want to go,’ Olivia said. ‘We want to stay here.’
‘I’m very aware of that, thank you, but these things are very complicated,’ Janie said.
‘I can count to three in Greek,’ Tristan announced.
‘Well, I can say the word for delicious,’ Olivia bragged. ‘Nóstimo.’
‘Very good,’ Panos said, topping up everyone’s water glass.
‘How long are you able to stay, Sophia?’ Janie asked.
Panos looked to his mother, waiting to hear the inevitable.
‘Actually, John is going to be joining me here for a few weeks.’ She ran a finger around the rim of her water glass. ‘We’ve never really spent very much time on Corfu for… for a variety of reasons… and we both thought it would be nice to reconnect with the island… and spend some more time with family.’
Panos met her eyes then, seeing her obvious affection for him.
‘That is OK with you, Pano?’ Sophia asked him tentatively.
He nodded, swallowing away the building emotion. ‘I would like that very much.’
* * *
Imogen entered the kitchen, scooping up another two plates destined for table six. Elpida was stirring a giant silver pot with the biggest wooden spoon she had ever seen. Her mum was beside the Greek, furiously mashing up potatoes.
‘This octopus!’ Elpida exclaimed. ‘It does not want to be mixed.’
‘Are you sure it’s dead?’ Imogen asked, looking into the pot.
‘If it is not dead from the boiling water it will be dead from that spoon,’ Cooky remarked with a crusty laugh.
Harry burst through the door, red-faced and out of breath but looking insanely happy. ‘Another three octopus specials for table nine and a swordfish.’
‘Raw food is all the rage now, isn’t it?’ Imogen remarked.
‘Not in Greece if you want to keep your health and hygiene certificate,’ Harry stated. ‘Is something wrong?’
‘He is relenting,’ Elpida said, bashing the spoon into the pan and smiling at Harry.
‘I’m glad I have the potatoes,’ Grace remarked.
Imogen picked up another order and ushered her brother out of the kitchen. She stopped walking just before they got to the restaurant area. The lilt of bouzouki and lute from the musicians in the corner of the room filtered up into the wooden-beamed ceiling, the lemon scent of the candles on each table as well as Elpida, Cooky and Grace’s cooking filled the space and Imogen breathed it all in deep. It was home.
‘Look, Harry,’ she whispered. ‘You did it. Your own Greek restaurant, busy, successful… perfect.’ She turned to her brother. ‘Is it still how you imagined it?’
Harry shook his head. ‘No,’ he responded. ‘It’s nothing like I imagined it.’ He took a deep breath, more colour and pride coating his cheeks. ‘It’s so much better.’
‘Harry!’ Elpida’s voice screamed. ‘Get this cat out of the kitchen or I will sell it on a stall at the first Acharavi community market!’
‘Oh dear,’ Harry said. ‘Socks still doesn’t seem to like being told what to do.’
‘I wonder where he gets that from,’ Imogen said, smiling.
Harry looked back to the full-to-capacity restaurant, hands on his hips. ‘I tell you what, Immy, if business keeps going like this I might have enough spare cash to buy that boat I always wanted… or another restaurant, you know, when this one is under control.’ His eyes lit up. ‘Maybe we could start a chain… a small chain… here in Corfu.’ He looked to Imogen. ‘
What do you think?’
Imogen smiled before linking her arm through her brother’s. ‘Oh, Harry, I think you should definitely buy a boat.’
Greek Recipes
The restaurant Halloumi was inspired by a real restaurant called Lavender on Beach Road Three, Acharavi, Corfu, run by Mandy’s friends Michelle and Lee Chapman and Melinda Jacobs. They have kindly shared some of Lavender’s usually top secret, special recipes for you to try at home!
Ouzo Prawns
Ingredients
3 tablespoons olive oil
4 garlic cloves, crushed
1 small onion, finely chopped
¼ teaspoon crushed dried chillies
1 x 400g and 1 x 200g can chopped tomatoes
3 tablespoons ouzo, plus extra for sprinkling
1kg large, raw, shell-on prawns
A little olive oil, for brushing
175g feta cheese, crumbled
Small handful of wild fennel tops, roughly chopped
Salt and freshly ground pepper
Wild fennel tops, to garnish
Method
Pour the olive oil and garlic into a frying pan and place over a medium-high heat.
As soon as the garlic begins to sizzle around the edges, add the onion and crushed dried chillies and cook gently until soft but not browned.
Add the tomatoes and 2 tablespoons of the ouzo and simmer for 7-10 minutes until thickened slightly. Season well with salt & pepper and keep hot.
Peel the prawns, leaving the last tail segment of the shell in place. Put them into a bowl and toss with the remaining ouzo, ½ teaspoon salt and some freshly ground pepper. Set aside for 5 minutes.
Turn grill on 10 minutes before you are ready to grill the prawns. Thread the prawns onto pairs of parallel thin skewers – this will stop them from spinning round when you come to turn them. Brush them lightly with olive oil and grill for 1½ minutes on each side until cooked through.