‘Enchantée,’ Jean-Luc said, with a lazy, drop-dead gorgeous smile. He rose, took her hand and brushed the back of it with his lips.
Edie’s heart fluttered and she felt quite giddy and had to tell herself to grow up.
‘What brings you here to Porto Liakáda?’ Jean-Luc asked, sitting down again.
Edie was more interested in askinghimsome questions but decided to be patient. Settling down beside Hannah, she explained about the holiday and the fact she and her husband hadn’t been back to Crete since their long-ago honeymoon.
‘How romantic!’ Jean-Luc said with a grin. ‘Has the island changed much since you were last here?’
‘It’s too early to say. We only got here yesterday. But so far, it hardly seems any different at all. It’s still just as charming and unspoiled.’
The waiter came over and Edie ordered a Coke and some water. The others hadn’t yet finished their coffee.
‘We met Jean-Luc in a shop back there and he told us about Marina,’ Hannah explained hurriedly. ‘She’s an artist.’ Her eyes sparkled with excitement.
Edie nodded. ‘I was just speaking to her father, Mr Makris, who owns the leather shop. I was on my way to the studio when I saw you.’
Marina gave a little laugh, like tinkling wind chimes.
‘He tells everyone. I wish he wouldn’t; it’s so embarrassing.’ She glanced at Jean-Luc affectionately. ‘You’re almost as bad, assailing these poor women in a shop and forcing them to look at my paintings.’
Jean-Luc opened his mouth to reply but Hannah butted in.
‘Oh no! We’re glad he told us. We mightn’t have known about your studio otherwise. I adore art.’ She was leaning forwards, addressing her words to Jean-Luc, not Marina. ‘Do you paint, too?’ she asked, tilting her head to one side and twizzling a strand of long blonde hair round her forefinger.
‘Me? No.’ He crossed an ankle over one knee.
He was in a black, round-necked T-shirt and baggy, brown carpenter shorts with lots of pockets. He had a frayed string bracelet with coloured beads round his wrist and there was a tattoo on his upper arm, which was tanned and quite muscular.
‘I’m a poet,’ he went on. ‘I live in Paris most of the time – but I was raised in Lille. My mother is French and so am I. You’ve probably guessed from my accent.’ He smiled.
‘She and Konstantin – Mr Makris – weren’t together. In fact I never saw him when I was growing up. It was only when I was eighteen I found out I had a half-sister.
‘Marina got in touch, you see. I thought I was an only child and I was so happy to find a sibling. Now, I come here most summers to see Marina – and my father,’ he added quickly. ‘This time I have rented an apartment for two months. It’s very quiet, so I can write.’
The longer he spoke, the bigger and wider Hannah’s eyes grew. ‘A poet?’ she said, leaning forward even more. ‘How fascinating!’
The waiter arrived with Edie’s drinks and set them on the table. Meanwhile Jessica, who’d been silent till now, watching what was going on, piped up: ‘Do you write in French?’
Jean-Luc nodded. His dark brown hair was cut in a low fade and there was a hint of stubble on his chin.
‘You speak French, don’t you, Hannah?’
Hannah gave a modest smile. ‘Only a little. I learned at school but I’m very rusty.’
‘Ah!’ cried Jean-Luc, taking a sip of coffee, ‘you can practise on me!Ça va?’
At this, Hannah sat bolt upright and drew back her shoulders.‘Oui! Ça va bien, merci!’
She grinned and Jean-Luc leaned across the table and high-fived her.
‘Excellent,’ said Jessica, with a small, satisfied smile. ‘After French p’raps you can get on to Greek.’
‘My Greek is very bad, I’m afraid,’ Jean-Luc replied.
‘Never mind! French is probably enough for now.’
Edie sipped her Coke and frowned. She felt rather as if she were on the set of a film, watching the action but with no role in it. Something was going on between Hannah, Jessica and Jean-Luc, but she wasn’t sure what. Marina seemed clueless, too.
