Unfortunately, Tash was persistent and wouldn’t take no for an answer.
‘You’ve got to come with us,’ she insisted. ‘We need you.’
Not wishing to be a spoilsport, Cleo reluctantly rose and made her way into the throng. She was soon grabbed by a smiling man with a pot belly and found herself wedged between him and a middle-aged, dark-haired woman.
There was no time to study the steps; Cleo just had to watch the woman’s feet and copy as best she could.
The circle was moving quite fast now and she soon felt utterly confused and out of breath. Anthea and her man, who were nearby, clearly knew exactly what they were doing and Tash quickly picked up the dance, as Cleo had suspected she would.
On the other hand, Maya, who was opposite, kept treading on her neighbours’ feet and having to apologise. At one point she caught Cleo’s eye, laughed and Cleo laughed back.
It was a tremendous relief when the dance finally came to a noisy end and she was able to scuttle back to her table. To her surprise, there was no sign of Marina or Katerina; they must have left when she wasn’t looking.
She found herself wondering what the old woman had meant when she’d said Cleo, Tash and Maya were going to face a ‘big challenge’. Her words had bothered Cleo and she tried to dismiss them as nonsense, but they kept coming back, like the smell of smoke clinging to your clothes after the fire has gone out.
It was almost eight o’clock now, well past dinner time, and she realised she was ravenous. Lunch had been hours ago and the Sfakian pie she’d shared with her friends had barely touched the sides of her hunger.
There was a little orange juice left in her glass, which she finished before Tash and Maya arrived.
‘Shall we go back to the villa?’ Cleo asked, and her friends nodded.
‘I think the musicians are taking a break now anyway,’ Maya said. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes bright. ‘I’m rather sorry. I was hopeless at dancing but everyone was so nice and no one seemed to mind. It was surprisingly good fun.’
Cleo frowned. She was glad Maya had been able to relax and enjoy it, but she herself had felt mortified.
‘Never again for me,’ she said with a shudder. ‘I didn’t have a clue what I was doing.’
Now the performers had stopped, ordinary pop music started blaring out of the speakers dotted round the terraced area.
Some of the crowd who were still standing began to bop, a sure sign the party was by no means over. Perhaps it would go on into the small hours.
Determined not to get dragged into another embarrassing dance, Cleo picked up her bag and hurried, head down, towards the exit. She didn’t see Achilles, with two full glasses of red wine in hand, walking over to one of the other musicians chatting to someone at a table.
‘OHMYGOD!’ Cleo shrieked, when she knocked into Achilles and watched, seemingly in slow motion, as the wine went flying.
Most of it went down Achilles’s front, while the rest splattered over her white trainers and onto the floor.
Her shout had attracted the attention of the other customers and all eyes were now on her. Cleo felt her cheeks burning and her neck flushed deep red.
‘I’m t-terribly sorry,’ she said with a stammer, before turning to search for some paper napkins, or anything to mop up the dreadful mess she’d made.
Achilles raised both arms, still holding the empty glasses.
‘Please, don’t worry,’ he said. ‘It was an accident. Luckily, I’m wearing black. It won’t show.’
Someone passed Cleo a wodge of tissues, which she took gratefully, and she proceeded to dab at the front of Achilles’s shirt, trying to soak up the liquid.
Too embarrassed to look at his face, she kept her eyes firmly on the job.
‘I’d buy you a new shirt,’ she said rapidly, ‘but the shops are shut. I’ll get one tomorrow if you tell me where you bought it. Honestly, I feel so ashamed. It was so clumsy of me.’
At that moment she became aware of Maya at her feet, squatting down to mop up the wine puddle on the floor with a cloth she’d acquired from somewhere. Meanwhile, Tash was hovering nearby, looking awkward.
‘Are you English by any chance?’ Achilles asked.
Surprised, Cleo glanced up and noticed the musician’s amused brown eyes and rather attractive, lopsided smile.
‘Yes,’ she said, feeling even more hot and flustered. ‘Why?’
