He’s right, I do. And him admitting he’s noticed shouldn’t make my skin heat up. But it does.
Mrs Evi has already turned her critical eye towards Mark and has found something new to find fault with.
‘You look tired,’ she scolds. ‘Especially under the eyes. You need to stop going out every night.’
I wait for Mark to tell her about his unexpected trip to the bottom of the pool and subsequent stay in hospital, but he just smiles.
Everything she throws at him, he handles with good grace. Even when she circles back to her main gripe, namely, his lack of wife.
‘Marriage isn’t for everyone,’ he says. His honesty surprises me – wouldn’t it be easier to offer platitudes like he did with his Aunt Kiki?
‘I only want you to be happy,’ she sniffs. Then contradicts herself immediately: ‘Do it forme. I lose so much sleep over this.’
‘Okay, okay,’ he says soothingly. He turns to me. ‘Want to get married?’
‘Sure,’ I say, not missing a beat.
He turns back to Evi. ‘See, problem solved.’
Her mouth hangs open until she finds her voice. She isnothappy. ‘Kamni ton exipnon. He thinks he’s clever,’ she says, talking like he’s not here. ‘I know he’s teasing me.’ She throws her hands in the air to tell us she’s done with this crap. ‘Doulia diki sou, it’s none of my business. And I know you’re not here to see me, you just want yourgalatoboureko.You’re lucky – I made some this morning.’ She turns towards the back of the shop.‘Although you’re being soataktosI’m not sure you deserve it,’ she adds before disappearing behind a beaded curtain.
‘Did you order in advance?’
‘No, but she knows it’s my favourite.’
When she returns, she’s not appeased, not even when we buy an enormous box of the stuff.
Mark holds the door open for me as we leave.
‘Just friends,’ she mutters. ‘Mishi mou. What rubbish.’
Once we’re outside, I clap my hand over my mouth to stop from laughing.
‘You’re so scared of a little old lady, you have to pretend to propose to me?’
‘She’s in her eighties. We’d only have to stay married for ten years – fifteen tops.’
‘The two of you are adorable.’
He rolls his eyes. ‘She’s permanently annoyed with me.’
‘That’s how older Greek women show love. They don’t bother with being polite – they give it to you straight.’
He shakes his head. ‘Unvarnished truth – my favourite kind.’
I text Pen as we walk back to the car.
‘Sorry about that,’ he says.
‘What are you talking about? She was nice about me. You’re the one she called an idiot.’
‘I don’t know why she doesn’t understand – some people aren’t cut out for marriage.’
‘It’s a generational thing. In her day, anyone unmarried was seen as suspect. She means well.’
‘She knows, though …’ he trails off.
‘What does she know?’
