She raises her eyebrows. ‘And you’re the Best Lady …’
‘No,’ I tell her firmly. ‘He’s not a nice person.’ She makes aso what?face. ‘And he’s got a girlfriend.’ It’s not strictly true, but it’s the quickest way to stop Niki’s fevered imagination.
‘Fair enough,’ she says.
Before he reaches us, he gets body-checked by a grinning waiter who pulls him into a massive bear hug. There’s lots of friendly shouting about why he hasn’t visited in so long, and everyone is generally behaving like Mark is a long-lost friend. Mark nods in our direction and says something to his new bestie, who clicks his fingers and a few seconds later, a young waiter hurries over carrying two chairs.
Niki frowns. ‘He speaks perfect Greek. Why do they keep calling him The Italian?’
‘His father was from Sicily.’
This seems to mean something to her.
‘Don’t tell me you know him?’
‘No, I’ve never seen him before in my life.’
A chair has been put at either end of the table, and Yan, unencumbered by over-friendly staff, makes it over to the one closest to us. It means Mark will be sitting as far from me as possible, which helps me relax.
‘What time do you call this?’ I ask. ‘It’s gone ten o’clock.’
‘It’s not my fault. Mark keeps bumping into people he knows. It’s taken us ten minutes to walk five metres from where the taxi dropped us off.’
‘How does he know so many people?’
‘From his time in the army. You basically meet every guy the same age as you when you join.’
Niki nods. ‘Yes, it’s the same with Mario – it’s like one giant boys’ network. If there was something similar for women, I’d have been promoted twice as fast.’
‘Oh, bloody hell,’ groans Yan. ‘Did I accidentally sit on the women’s libbers’ table?’
‘Shut up,’ I tell him good-naturedly.
The meze courses are never-ending, and so is the wine. Somehow, my glass keeps getting refilled, and now I’ve lost track of how much I’ve drunk. It can’t be that much, though, because I’m still waiting for the alcohol to take the edge off the tension brought on by Mark’s arrival.
A livebouzoukiband strikes up to universal cheers from diners – the place is still packed even though it’s gone midnight.
There’s some inevitable seat swapping, and at one point, Niki goes to chat to Tig at the other end of the table, and Mario comes over to us.
A little while later, I’m scanning the table to see if there’s any white wine left when I notice Niki and Mark are deep inconversation. I can’t tell what they’re talking about, but they look serious. But when I check a couple of minutes later, their expressions are back to normal.
Cypriots have a habit of seeming angry when discussing the most mundane things. Rich once asked me if I was okay after I got off the phone with my gran and I’d explained that the subject of our heated discussion was the best way to make an authentic Greek coffee without the proper copper-bottomed pot.
Yan appears with a fresh bottle of wine, and the odd interaction between Niki and Mark is forgotten.
Once the wine has been consumed, a round ofzivaniaarrives, and I silently groan. It’s on the house, courtesy of the owner, who, of course, knows Mark. I hate the taste, but it would be rude not to drink it, and I’m on holiday, after all.
I down a shot, then reach for my wine glass and almost slip off my chair.
‘Easy, Nella.’
I turn to see Mark. He pulls out the chair next to me and sits down.
His jean-clad thigh is only inches from the bare skin of mine. These shorts feelwaytoo short. Nervously, I cross and uncross my legs, inadvertently drawing his attention.
Leg man, are we?
I sip my wine and let the silence stretch between us, unable to tear my eyes from his forearms. How are they already sun-kissed? Wasn’t it dark when he landed?
