Alissa reappears with the weary-looking group. ‘So, ladies and gentlemen, I hope that you enjoy the tour. Now you can look round the museum and, of course, the gift shop, at your leisure.’
There’s a quiet round of applause by way of appreciation before the group disperses. Martin and Alexis head in our direction.
‘Well, Stephanie Valentine, I don’t think you’ll be on Alissa’s Christmas card list,’ Martin laughs.
‘No, I think you’re right. She took a dislike to me right from the start. I can’t think why.’
‘Actually, I think I know why,’ says Stefanos.
We all turn to him and ask ‘Why?’ in unison.
‘She was at my school. She wanted to go out with me and I refused. It was nearly twenty years ago and I have not seen her since I left school. I assume she move away to work or study.’
‘Oh, great. An unbalanced tour guide who thinks I’ve stolen her childhood sweetheart.’
‘I know how you feel, Steph,’ Martin pipes up. ‘Alexis was engaged to his girlfriend when I turned up in his life. I’m constantly looking over my shoulder.’
An image of a rather angry Greek girl chasing Alexis with a pile of plates to throw at him one by one flashes through my head. But I’m sure they don’t all settle a score like Selena does.
We trundle round the museum. I still think the lions look like seals but I keep my thoughts to myself. We’ve got some time before the boat leaves so everyone disperses to have a drink or snack. Stefanos finds a wall for us to perch on to eat the sandwiches Eliana made for us.
‘Did your brother move hotels for a promotion?’ I ask as we eat.
‘Not exactly. He move for personal reasons. His wife had an affair with another member of staff. Costas filed for divorce and decided he couldn’t work with the guy. He just wanted a new start, but it did end up that he got a promotion with his new job. He also started seeing someone else but unfortunately they are not getting on very well.’
‘So he’s at a crossroads in his life?’ Stefanos looks confused, and I realise he’s not quite grasped my little metaphor. ‘He needs to choose a direction to take,’ I add for clarification.
‘Yes, I see, crossroads. Well, my advice was to finish his relationship. But will he listen to his younger brother?’ Stefanos laughs.
‘Probably not! Just like I don’t listen to any advice my sister gives me, and vice versa.’ We laugh together.
People are starting to walk towards the jetty.
‘Come on, we need to catch this boat,’ Stefanos says.
We board the boat. Everyone looks weary after traipsing around the island for almost two hours and then visiting the museum. But we were wrong if we thought we’d have a rest. Greek music starts playing, and a guy hands out plastic cups and pours ouzo into them, which goes down well.
As we push back from the harbour wall, a few people get up to have a go at Greek dancing – well, their interpretation of it. It’s funny watching people dance; even those with a good sense of rhythm need a cup of ouzo to loosen up.
Martin decides to get Sandra, Carol and myself up. ‘Come on, ladies, you can practice your twerking, Greek-style!’
I’m reluctant but Stefanos is pulling me up. ‘Come on, Stephanie, let me see this dance move. It might be useful for the beach club later.’
Alexis joins us. ‘I can guarantee that no one can twerk better than Martin. He’s a master at it.’
Alexis is right. No one can beat Martin’s twerking. He seems to have sabotaged the Greek dancing; everyone is now attempting to twerk to Greek music, which is hilarious.
We’re all in high spirits after Martin’s antics as we come to dock in Mykonos. We’re meeting Martin and Alexis later at a piano bar. Until then, Stefanos and I have opted to chill out for the rest of the afternoon back at his parents’ hotel. This time, he’ll be able to introduce me to them properly, as Stephanie Valentine.
Chapter 19
Helen
The minibus pulls up outside the hotel and everyone piles out. I recognise the bar manager immediately from his photo on the hotel’s website.
He waits until we’ve all gathered round. ‘Good morning and welcome to the Syros Boutique Blue Hotel. My name is Darius. The manager is just finishing a phone call and will join us shortly. Refreshments will be served in the bar before a buffet lunch. Interviews will commence at two o’clock. You are most welcome to relax in your rooms or in the hotel grounds until then. Oh, here is Costas now.’
We all turn round and my mouth drops open in disbelief. No, this isn’t happening. It’s Mr Serious himself. I quickly sneak behind the others to buy a few seconds in which to compose myself.
Costas welcomes everyone, introduces himself and ticks names off on his sheet while moving around the gathered group. When he reaches Alexandra, there’s definitely some tension in the air. I’m wondering what on earth has gone on between them.
Finally, it’s my turn. I extend my hand to be shaken.
‘Oh, Miss Collins. Nice to meet you again,’ he says. But I’m not convinced he means ‘nice’. He seems a bit confused. He checks his list, moving up and down it with his pen, and then looks at me with a puzzled expression. ‘I do not seem to have your name on the list.’
‘Oh, sorry, I should have explained. I’m not here for the job. I’m here to interview the candidates with you,’ I reply, smiling.
‘Oh, I see,’ is all he says. Then he says something in Greek to the group and Darius leads them away. We’re now alone and he seems to be awkward. ‘So, you are not here for any of the jobs?’ he asks again looking a bit disappointed.
‘No, I’m just here to do the interviews.’
‘Is James following on?’
I bristle at the mention of bloody James yet again. ‘No, James is NOT following on and, quite frankly, if I hear his bloody name again I’m going to scream.’
Costas is understandably taken aback by my outburst. He regains his composure. ‘Sorry, but when they said someone was coming from Loving Luxury Travel, I just thought it would be, er…’ He pauses and thinks how he’s going to avoid the taboo name. ‘…Mr Hobbs. He speaks some Greek, which would help for the interviews.’
‘Well, hooray for him, James can speak a bit of Greek.’ I’m really mad now and in full strop mode. ‘I’m really sorry to disappoint you, Mr Christopoulos, but you’ve got me instead. I suggest we discuss a few things before the interviews start rather than wasting time talking about my colleague.’
‘Please call me Costas. My surname is a bit of a mouthful,’ he says, sounding quite amused at my outburst.
I don’t even answer him back. He’s really annoyed me now, the sarcastic sod. I snatch my case and follow him into the hotel.
He shows me to a table in the bar area. ‘If you would like to take a seat here, Miss Collins, Darius will bring a drink over for you.’
I reply with a reluctant ‘Thank you,’ and sit down.
He says something in Greek to Darius, who’s making drinks for the others.
Costas takes the large tray of drinks through to the interviewees while Darius prepares a drink for me. He adds the finishing touches and brings it over. It’s green. I take a sip. It’s cool and refreshing, which is just what I need.
‘This is very nice. What is it?’ I enquire.
‘Er, Green … er, sorry, I do not know English word.’ He does an impression.
I feel like we’ve started a game of charades. ‘Er, animal, big, fire,’ I try to guess. I’m trying hard not to laugh but he looks so funny.
He points to his mouth and says, ‘Fire! Here, I show you.’ He runs back to the bar and brings a menu over to the table. He points to an item: Green Dragon. ‘Costas says, it like you.’ He points to my dress and returns to the bar, oblivious to the insult.
Costas appears and sits down opposite me with his own dri
nk. There’s an awkward silence.
‘Interesting choice of drink. It’s nice and refreshing,’ I comment, wondering what he’ll have to say for himself.
‘Yes, it is colour of your dress and fiery like you. Now, maybe we should get on with the job in hand.’
This is a great start to our two days of interviewing together. We flick through the CVs in silence. I notice that he’s put on a pair of glasses; he now looks very sexy and serious at the same time.
I have a go at breaking the ice. ‘Have any of the CVs stood out to you?’ I enquire cautiously.
‘Maybe these two,’ he replies, giving me eye contact over his glasses as he passes them over. My heart does a somersault.
‘Really?’ I glower at him for some sort of explanation. They’re the two that I immediately dismissed. Neither of these candidates seem to have much experience.
‘You don’t approve?’ He peers at me over the top of his glasses again.
‘Well, they do not seem to have as much experience as the others, for a start.’
‘This is exactly why, Miss Collins, I would choose one of them. I can train them to my standard and they do not arrive with other ideas that I do not like.’
‘Please call me Helen. Surely, if someone who has experience comes here, you can share best practices?’
‘Okay, which candidates would you choose?’
‘These are the ones that I will be interested in when we interview.’ I hand the CVs over.
‘No,’ he says to the first one. ‘Er, no,’ to the second. ‘Hmm, maybe,’ to the third and ‘Definitely not,’ to the last one. He slaps them all back on the table.
Interestingly, the last one is Alexandra. So she was right to feel she’s wasting her time. ‘What’s with the “Definitely not” candidate?’ I ask with trepidation.
‘I work with her before. We did not get on and then she left.’
‘Oh, well, that will make for an interesting interview then,’ I reply sarcastically.
‘I think, Helen, I will ask Darius to show you to your room. I need to organise a few things and we are not achieving anything here. A buffet lunch will be served at twelve thirty. The interviews start at two o’clock in the room over there,’ he points. ‘Maybe we can meet up about fifteen minutes earlier. I will see you later.’
With that, he stands up and disappears to find Darius, who appears seconds later like a genie from a lamp. ‘Okay, Miss Collins, follow me. I show you to your room.’
Darius leads the way with my suitcase. My shoes echo on the marble floor of the reception area. We arrive at the lift, he selects my floor number, which is the top one, and we step inside.
I seize the opportunity to get some feedback from Darius, who seems more than happy to be here. ‘It’s a lovely hotel,’ I say.
‘Oh, yes, it is most beautiful hotel, with pretty gardens and beach. I love it here,’ he replies enthusiastically.
‘And Costas, what sort of boss is he?’
The lift arrives and Darius leads the way with my case. ‘Costas is a very caring boss. He take care of everyone. He always ask how we are, and everyone like and respect him. I came from last hotel with him. The staff cry when he left. Here is your room. Allow me.’
He opens the door and I step inside a room that is – how can I put it? – not quite finished. There are no curtains, the bed isn’t made and pictures are leaning against the walls.
I turn to Darius for an explanation. ‘What on earth is going on here?’
‘The workmen are a bit behind. Costas wants to keep finished rooms clean, as housekeeping is busy, so you and interviewees are in the partly finished rooms,’ he explains, smiling and obviously not seeing any issue.
‘I see.’ I survey the scene while Darius lifts my case on to one of the rather bare-looking beds.
‘Okay, see you for lunch, Miss Collins. Someone will make up your bed later, and hopefully put up the curtains,’ he says, before scarpering away.
I dread to think how many rooms are like this. I’m sure they’re going to be almost full, with bookings from the week they open. At least it all seems finished downstairs.
Apart from the fact that the room is unfinished, the view from the balcony is incredible. The room overlooks the gardens and the pool, and then, beyond that, the beautiful blue sea and a little island.
I decide to unpack a couple of things that will crease and hang them up… Or I would hang them if there were any hangers. But why would there be any hangers in an unfinished room? Let’s face it, you’re lucky to get more than a handful in any hotel wardrobe.
I place the clothes flat on top of my suitcase, quickly freshen up and head back downstairs to grab some lunch.
I help myself to some rocket, tomatoes, cucumber and feta to make up a salad, and some olives, which I’ve now got a taste for. There are some glasses of fruit punch on the side so I pick up one of them and make my way to a table away from the others. It’s a beautiful open-plan restaurant that overlooks the pool and the sea. I’d normally have my phone out but I can’t be bothered checking messages today. Instead, I gaze at the sea sparkling under the clear blue skies.
‘May I?’ A voice interrupts my daydreaming. It’s Costas. He’s holding a plate of food and indicating that he’d like to sit down.
‘Of course, be my guest,’ I reply.
‘So, what are your first impressions of the hotel?’ he asks, sounding a bit happier than before.
‘It’s lovely. But I do have concerns about some of the rooms not being finished. I thought the hotel was fully booked for its opening week.’
Costas puts his knife and fork down on to his plate. He seems to be contemplating what to say next. I brace myself. ‘Helen, you do not need to concern yourself over whether the hotel will be finished. Everything is on track. The workmen will be back the day after tomorrow to finish all the work, which will take only a few days. You have my word. I can do it myself if I need to.’
I suppose he has a point, as I saw at the Hotel Niko. ‘Well, if you say so, Costas. Daniel won’t be happy if guests arrive to rooms with no curtains on the windows. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll have a little wander around the gardens before our meeting.’
‘Indeed. Hopefully, you will find the gardens are to your satisfaction.’
‘Yes, I’m sure they’ll be fine.’ You sarcastic sod!
This site has some beautiful established gardens. Our company bought the hotel and invested in its refurbishment and modernisation. We’ve added the pool, which has a little wooden bridge going over it, and the restaurant where I’ve been having lunch is an extension on to the existing indoor restaurant; it has the best of both worlds. I wander over to a seat in the garden and sit down to listen to the waves gently hitting the beach and the birds singing in the garden. There are some goats bleating to each other in the scrubland next to the garden. The air here is clean. I feel like I’m a million miles away from the seats I seek out in my lunch break in Manchester. There, I have to walk along a busy road with noisy traffic. There are horns beeping because someone has dared to get in someone’s way and sirens blaring as emergency services dash from one incident to another. I haven’t heard a single siren in either Mykonos or Syros. Just peace and quiet, which is music to my ears.
I glance at my watch and decide that I’d better make my way to my rendezvous point with Costas. He doesn’t strike me as the kind of person who’d be impressed with poor timekeeping.
We arrive at the door together and he politely lets me go into the room first. There’s a table set up with a jug of water and glasses and a chair for the interviewee. We take our respective seats next to each other and study the interview question sheets.
‘I like this one as a starting question: “Tell me about yourself.” It’s a good one to put the candidate at ease,’ I say.
‘Yes, well I prefer “How do you handle
stress and pressure?”’
‘What? On a laid-back Greek island?’
‘Yes, Helen, even on a laid-back Greek island there is stress and pressure,’ comes the serious reply.
‘Okay, I’ll take your word for it. I think we’d better get on with interviewing the candidates or else we’ll be arguing all afternoon.’ I must admit, he does amuse me when he peers over those glasses or perches them on his head.
I go to the door to invite in the first candidate. Of course, it has to be Alexandra. This is going to be fun, not. Understandably, she’s looking uneasy so I get in with my question first before Costas draws breath. ‘Good afternoon, Alexandra. Tell us a bit about yourself.’
After a shaky start, she composes herself and tells us about her background, the different roles she’s performed and why she likes the hotel industry.
Then it’s Costas’s turn to hit her with his question. ‘Okay, Alexandra, that is good, all very positive. But now, can you describe a difficult work situation and how you overcame it?’
Well, talk about being able to cut the atmosphere with a knife. I think he’s just sliced cleanly through this interview.
Alexandra blushes and stumbles through her answer. I don’t even pay attention to it because I feel so sorry for her. I met Costas only yesterday, but one thing’s for sure, you certainly wouldn’t cross him. Unfortunately, poor Alexandra has apparently done just that and is now paying for it big time.
I try and rescue her with my next question, which takes us back to neutral ground. ‘Tell us about your goals for the future.’
Unsurprisingly, she wants to be a manager of her own hotel. I already know she isn’t going to be climbing her career ladder with any help from Costas.
His next question finishes her off. ‘Why do you want this job?’ he asks, peering over his glasses.
By the time she’s finished, she’s effectively talked herself out of it. She leaves the room, looking decidedly shaky.
Under a Greek Spell Page 20