‘She talks of you often,’ said Niko. ‘I remember how you used to tell her everything.’
‘Yes. Grandma was a great confidante.’ I gave a small smile. Which was true – Mum did her best but her mind often seemed elsewhere (the office, probably), whereas Grandma, who never stopped cooking or cleaning, still had the knack of knowing when to call me in for a fresh pastry and ask what was wrong. Like the summer after I’d fallen out with my best friend, or the year of my OCD phase. Gently she’d asked why I kept disappearing to the bathroom to wash. No one else had noticed. Grandma worked out I was fretting about the approaching autumn school term. I was due a new form tutor with a fearsome reputation. Grandma gave me her own Greek stress beads – but just talking about my worries had helped. And as usual she’d been right – rumours always tainted the truth and the new teacher turned out to be all right.
‘She’ll be okay, I’m sure,’ said Leila, in a voice as gentle as rustling olive tree leaves.
Yes. She was right. No doubt when I visited, Grandma would still be baking and ordering everyone about – and asking me to sing (or at least whistle) her favourite Greek song about a sleeping cuckoo… I nodded at Leila, now unable to take my eyes off the way she easily held onto Niko.
Henrik held out his hand. ‘Come on, Pips. Let’s head to the supermarket. I’m sure Niko and his fiancée would like some time alone, before the sponge-diving boats go out.’ He grinned at Niko. ‘Leila filled me in on your daily routine. It’s clearly not for the faint-hearted.’
My throat constricted and the oddest expression crossed Niko’s face.
Fiancée? Engaged to be married? For some reason, an unpleasant sensation pierced my chest. Wow, what a flirt he’d become, for someone on the verge of exchanging marital vows. Pursing my lips, I stood transfixed to Leila’s right hand and a diamond, obvious now, twinkling in the sunlight. That explained why Sophia had looked uncomfortable, in the taverna, at my easy closeness with her son. My eyes scanned her face, those elegant arms, the tiny waist… What was not to like? No wonder my childhood friend had fallen for her charms. Plus she was softly spoken and had the prettiest smile… I swallowed hard and for the first time in a while, momentarily wished my frame was more petite.
Niko spoke rapidly in Greek to this fiancée for a moment and then cleared his throat.
‘Look, Henrik, I don’t think Pippa’s up to shopping just yet – Leila will take you to the supermarket, yes? We’ll meet you back at my parents’ taverna.’
‘It’s true,’ said Leila, ‘you look a little off-colour, Pippa. It makes me happy to help Henrik. I promised to look after my small cousins today, but not for another hour.’
‘I’m absolutely fine,’ I replied in a bright voice. So, she was kind-hearted as well.
But the happy Greek couple (who me, sarcastic?) were having none of it. Plus Henrik took little persuasion when Leila hinted Georgios might shout him a free beer. Within minutes the two of them were gone. I picked up my hat and sunglasses and turned to go. However, Niko grabbed my hand.
‘Pippa. Look, don’t go, I should have…’
Gently, I pulled away my fingers. ‘Whatever… Your personal life – it’s… it’s nothing to do with me.’ I coughed. ‘Congratulations. She seems lovely. Your parents must be thrilled.’
‘Yes, but… look…before… about the butterfly kisses…’
I forced a laugh. ‘Look at us, trying to relive old times. What are we like? I’m… I’m glad you’ve found someone, like I’ve found Henrik.’
‘About Leila… I was going to tell you, but–’
Urgh, give it up Niko, otherwise… too late. Prepare for an Epic Fail when it came to pretend civility.
‘But what? I saw the way you flirted with those guests back at the taverna. “Ladeez”? I mean, really ? Then with me on the sand… all those mushy compliments… you never used to talk like that.’ I shook my head. ‘You were the last person I expected to turn into one of those bull-shitting Greek waiters determined to charm their way into customers’ good books and wallets.’ Damn my voice for wobbling, but what was he playing at?
He stepped forward, eyes dull. ‘You really think that of me, Pippa?
I bit my lip.
‘The things I said about you… every single one I meant.’
Yeah right – as beautiful as the blush of a sunset? Did I really fall for that rubbish? Henrik may not be the most romantic man in the world, but at least he was dead-straight. And for that quality alone, he was worth hanging onto.
‘Oh come on, admit it,’ I said, voice calmer now. ‘You’ve not given me one thought over these years. And I… I’d practically forgotten that annoying boy who used to pinch my sweets and ping the straps of my bikini top. It’s okay. Life moves on.’
‘You’re even more attractive when angry,’ he said and smiled.
I shook my head. ‘You could learn a lot from watching a famous film my mum loves, called Shirley Valentine… You might pick up some tips on how to get into foreign women’s knickers more quickly.’
Cheeks flushed scarlet, he scowled and promptly lifted off his vest top. He threw it on the ground.
‘Oh God, what now… Am I supposed to be impressed?’ I muttered. ‘Honestly, you’re unbelievable.’ Although… wow. Look at those pecs, clearly visible, as he’d not become nearly as hairy as his dad. Niko’s eyes sparked and he pointed to a line of small scars down the right side of his abdomen, an imperfection which contrasted Henrik’s smooth, unmarked chest. Annoyingly I longed to run my fingers – or my tongue (eek, did I really just think that?) across his deliciously firm, caramel skin.
‘You remember, no?’ he demanded.
I stared for a moment, praying for some cold shower to hover over my head, like the snowman’s personal cloud in Frozen. Then it clicked. The jellyfish attack. It had happened during that last summer, when we’d both just turned fourteen. One stung me and I panicked. Swiftly Niko had swum over, through a cluster of them and dragged me out of the water. In the process he got trapped by tentacles and injured ten times worse than I was.
‘I would do it again in a heartbeat. And I’m grateful… This scar is a constant reminder of happy times – of our friendship. And–’
‘Here we go, bullshit again. That’s like the Greek waiter in that film saying he loves Shirley Valentine‘s stretch marks.’
‘Stretch marks?’ He shrugged. ‘I don’t understand the words but get your tone – after all those summers together, now you dove-hole me as some shallow playboy?’
‘It’s pigeon -hole,’ I muttered. My stomach twisted. ‘Yes, well, I wouldn’t worry. Clearly Leila thinks you’re fabulous.’
‘ She is the fabulous one,’ he snapped.
My throat ached as I thought back to her exotic appearance. What did Leila do for a living? Probably something super sexy, such as painting portraits or dancing.
‘Unlike Henrik,’ he continued. ‘You should know that last time he was here–’
A bloodcurdling scream pierced the air and dropping my glasses and hat, I span around. Old Mrs Dellis paced up and down, howling and pointing at the waves. The beach was still empty so I followed her finger and gasped. Mrs Dellis’ two small grandsons balanced precariously on red lilos, far out at sea, wailing almost as loudly as her. Niko ran towards the old woman. I followed his cue. Within a minute we were by her side. He spoke rapidly in Greek and in between more howls she responded.
‘ Na para I eychi !’ muttered Niko (“damn” to you and me) and in a flash slipped out of his sandals and jeans.
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