When she told him where she lived, he said he’d visited London once but never Surrey. His daughter would undoubtedly know it, though.
‘She’s a successful artist, a painter,’ he said proudly. ‘Marina, she is called, Marina Makris. That’s my name, Makris. She’s not married,’ he added, lowering his eyes. ‘Though she has had many offers.’
There was a pause, then his face lit up again. ‘She has been all over the world. She has her studio right here, in the village. Just a few doors down.’ He pointed to the right. ‘You must go and look. She’s very good. She has admirers from America, Japan, Athens, everywhere!’
Edie said she’d definitely check out the studio, then asked if she could browse round the shop.
‘Of course!’ Mr Makris put his hands on the counter top and started to push himself up. It obviously required a good deal of effort and Edie would have liked to help, but feared offending him.
Her heart leaped into her mouth when he gave one final push, lost his balance and flopped back into his seat with a groan.
‘Are you all right?’ she asked anxiously, and he waved a hand in the air.
‘Old age,’ he muttered, shaking his head disconsolately. ‘It’s so tiresome. No one wants to be weak but unfortunately it cannot be avoided, if you live as long as me.’
Time was getting on for Edie, too, and she didn’t want to keep the others waiting. She took a quick look at the leather goods, which Mr Makris said he mostly used to make himself, but now imported from elsewhere.
‘I’ll definitely come back,’ she promised as she said goodbye. He looked quite sorry to see her go.
‘You are a very gracious lady,’ he said, which made her secretly smile, wondering if he’d perhaps mistaken her for a minor noble inDownton Abbey, the famous TV series.
Then, as a seeming afterthought, he added: ‘Er, where are you staying, if you don’t mind me asking? Here in the village?’
When Edie told him she was renting Villa Ariadne, his response startled her.
‘That place again?’ He wrinkled his nose, as if there was a bad smell. ‘That woman, Katerina Papadakis, makes a fortune out of people like you. You should have chosen somewhere else. I would have given you suggestions. There are plenty of beautiful villas round here.’
Edie raised her eyebrows. ‘The price wasn’t too bad, to be honest. I was quite surprised actually; I thought it would be more. It’s a gorgeous property with amazing views.’
But Mr Makris was having none of it. He bent down and reached for something under the counter, before passing her a white card with his name, email address and phone number on.
‘Here are my details. If you come to Porto Liakáda again, call me first. I have friends who can help. They will give you a much better price than Mrs Papadakis.’
Edie left the shop puzzling over why the old man had it in for Katerina. She seemed to be kind and honest and certainly not a money-grabber. Perhaps there was bad blood between them. There must be all sorts of age-old feuds going on in a tiny place like this. Edie would love to know the truth.
She was intending to take a quick look at the studio before searching for the others but on leaving Mr Makris’ shop, whom should she see but Hannah and Jessica.
They were sitting round a table in a café opposite and appeared to have company.
‘Edie!’ Hannah called, spotting her friend. ‘Come and join us!’
The table was in the shade under a blue and white canopy overlooking the harbour. Folk were getting on and off small boats moored to the jetty and in the distance, Edie spotted the bow of one of the big passenger ferries rounding the headland.
It was after 1p.m. now and the sun was high in the sky. She could feel how much the temperature had gone up since they left Villa Ariadne and longed for a cold drink.
‘Hi!’ she said, glancing at her friends as well as the newcomers.
Hannah pushed out a chair and beckoned to her to sit down.
‘This is Marina,’ she explained, gesturing to a very slender, olive-skinned woman with a slim face, high cheekbones, a straight nose, deep-set, dark brown eyes and long black wavy hair that ran over her shoulders and down her back like a waterfall.
She was wearing a long, flowing, beachy yellow dress with spaghetti straps and chunky silver jewellery. She was probably in her mid or even late fifties, Edie decided, but still beautiful, in an unconventional way.
‘Hello, pleased to meet you,’ the stranger said with a serene smile, shaking Edie’s hand. ‘This is my half-brother, Jean-Luc.’
Edie turned to the man beside Marina and tried not to show her surprise. For a start, he was remarkably handsome, with one of those strong-jawed, straight-nosed, angular yet sensitive faces most women find irresistible.
He looked quite a lot younger than his sister and his name didn’t sound a bit Greek. Moreover, Mr Makris definitely hadn’t mentioned a son, though he’d waxed lyrical about his daughter. What was going on?
