Samantha Tonge - Game Of Scones

Henrik shrugged. ‘Much the same, from what I could tell.’

No surprise there. Niko never had aspirations to leave home and travel the world. Even as a young boy, he’d say “Like fertile soil, Taxos will provide everything I need for a lifetime of happiness”.

I kind of admired the confidence he had in his little hometown. And despite me studying and ultimately heading for university, we’d still had lots in common, that last summer – a love of nature and food plus the ability to tease each other mercilessly. Niko would call pink-hating teenage me Tomboy and being the tallest, I named him Shorty. We used to spend hours watching turtles and both joined the World Wildlife Fund.

‘It was good of Mum and Dad to invite me on their annual visit this August,’ I said and loosened my ponytail. And for three consecutive weeks! I’d never left my desk for that long, but since my chat with Greta, since my feelings for Henrik had shifted, I needed a good amount of time away from the daily grind, to think about our relationship. Fortunately work had insisted it wasn’t a problem, even though I’d just moved departments, due to all the unpaid overtime I’d happily put in, over the last two years. ‘I’ve always loved Taxos for being so untouched by the glitzy eighteen-to-thirty crowd. You experience a real slice of authentic Greek life.’

Henrik’s jaw tightened and he fiddled with his designer watch. ‘I’d say it was short-sighted of any Greek village to hark back to the old days, in these economically-challenged times. Taxos didn’t look to me as if it was doing well on feelings of nostalgia and the earnings from selling fish and olives.’

My head told me he was right, but just the thought of puking, drunken tourists invading that community made me feel like throwing up. I shook myself. ‘Anyway, it’s a shame you’ve got that big contract to work on and can’t go.’ I cleared my throat. Truth was, I felt as relieved as an ice cream finding shade that I only had seven days to go until I left. With that marriage proposal on the horizon, I needed to come to a decision about him, without the distraction of his seductive slate eyes. They only reminded me of how I’d felt about him when we’d first started dating.

My own eyes misted up as I thought of struggling Taxos with its turquoise waters and shortbread sand – of my imaginary teashop where I’d do the school run, dance in the dark and wake with the birds. Oh, the hours Niko and I had spent thinking up ridiculous names for it: Scones Sweet Scones; Teacakes Ahoy; She Shells Cake; Shiver me Sandwiches. In the end, I’d plumped for Pippa’s Pantry. BORING, Niko had declared – cue a generous handful of hot sand down his back.

I leant up against Henrik, wondering if I would miss him whilst out in Greece. He wanted kids, but not until our thirties and, like my parents, thought boarding school fitted the executive life best. A bustling family home like Georgios and Sophia’s wouldn’t suit him one jot.

‘Funny you should talk of Taxos, you see my surprise…’ Henrik sat upright and turned to face me.

Eek! Greta’s words rung in my ears. Was her son about to propose and take me to Greece on honeymoon? Because his surprise certainly wouldn’t be chocolates or extravagant bouquets. Henrik wasn’t the chivalrous, romantic type, and would consider such gifts a waste of money. Which was good, right? I was a successful, independent woman, not a Disney princess – although if I was, it would have to be Snow White, with her love of birds and forest life. Not that I’ve, um, thought that through at all *clears throat*. Knights – or princes – in shining armour, I knew, belonged in fiction books. And Henrik always respected my modern outlook. He rarely gave out flowery compliments either – said I was far too intelligent to be patronised by such “tosh”. Neither of us could understand why I loved reading anything with a romantic theme.

‘Oh, goodness, is that the time…’ I rambled, desperate for a speedy exit. I moved forwards, to the edge of the sofa. ‘Sorry, I’ve got to go out right now, forgot I have Zumba and–’

‘Whoa! Slow down, Pippa! Surely an exercise class can wait two minutes?’

Aarggh! There was no way out of this. As if already feeling apprehensive about an engagement ring, my left hand curled into a fist.

‘Guess what? Thanks to your parents and my boss, you’re in for a great holiday abroad.’

Like the detergent-blue Greek tide coming in, a growing sense of uneasiness washed over me.

‘As a thank you for me heading over to sort out the flooding mess, your mum and dad insist we have the villa to ourselves this summer. They will visit your aunt in Canada instead. My boss said he can just about afford to let me go for three weeks as long as…’ Henrik fiddled with his watch again, ‘…I find a few days to head off to Kos Town to tie up some business at our new offices there.’

‘Since when did ThinkBig have offices on Kos island?’ I said, for a minute forgetting my total relief at him not having proposed.

‘Ignore all that for a minute – didn’t you hear? I’m coming with you, Pips! It’ll be just us, cocktails and waves… And who knows what could happen.’

Voice husky now, Henrik took my hand and – uh oh – ran his thumb over my wedding ring finger.

Chapter Two

‘Us split up? Why?’ said Henrik, and his well-defined jaw dropped. He put down our cases in the lounge of our villa and straightened up. His head almost touched the ceiling built by much shorter Greeks. To avoid an answer, I gazed around. Nothing much had changed since my last visit. The wooden coffee table in the middle of the floor, on top of a mosaic rug… the cream sofa and armchairs… the paintings of fishing boats on the whitewashed walls… the vases of dried flowers… I glanced over at the kitchen with its gleaming white units, deep cornflower blue cupboard doors and spotless silver appliances. Plus the sturdy, rectangular breakfast bar in the middle, surrounded by high stools. The eating area had hardly been used seeing as Mum and Dad preferred to dine out. On the rear side were French patio doors, revealing the Aegean Sea in the distance, beyond a small dusty patio edged with trees and shrubs.

‘Um… I need to stretch my legs and could pick up some essentials like bread and milk. You’ve worked so hard this last week, Henrik, why don’t you unpack and take a dip in the pool?’ I gave a bright smile, knowing this would appeal to his practical side. ‘We’ve got the next two weeks in each other’s company. A couple of hours apart won’t kill.’

What? Did you really think I’d break up with him minutes after arriving in Greece? Where would be the sense in that, and talk about cruel? Plus…*sigh*… thanks to my head and heart tug-of-war, I still hadn’t quite come to a decision.

‘Okey doke.’ He shrugged. ‘Whatever suits. I know you get twitchy if we stay anywhere that doesn’t stock flour, milk, butter and eggs.’

Which was true – the scone-maker in me was never far away.

Henrik jerked his head back towards the corridor, leading from the front door. ‘Which room is ours, that big one on the right – your mum and dad’s?’

‘No way! That would be wrong .’

Henrik grinned. ‘The English are so uptight about things like that. So what if your parents have shagged in that bed?’

My shudder only fuelled his laugh.

‘We’re in the spare room, on the left, which has a lovely big bed.’ I led the way in, walked past the huge mosquito net, draped down from the ceiling, and headed for the round window. Like a small child, trying to spot Santa’s sleigh, I peered out. Henrik came up behind me and as he let out a whistle, his breath brushed my skin.