Page 86 of The Greek Café

‘Shall we go back upstairs? I can sit with you until the storm passes,’ she offers.

‘That is very kind of you, if you are sure you don’t mind.’

‘Of course not. I would be going home to an empty house. My mother is staying at my aunt’s in Lindos.’

We sit chatting. Phoebe kindly does her best to distract me by telling me all about her day as I shake my leg.

‘What we need is a glass of wine,’ says Phoebe after half an hour has passed.

Outside it looks as dark as if it were midnight.

‘I only have a bottle or two, as I am expecting a delivery tomorrow.’

‘I could go home and get a bottle of Metaxa; it is only a few minutes away,’ she suggests.

The rain begins to fall from the sky, gently tapping at the windows.

‘Maybe that is not such a good idea,’ I tell her.

‘It is a little rain. I will be fine.’ She smiles, throwing up the hood of her jacket. ‘I will be back before you know it.’

It feels like forever until she returns, even though only five minutes have passed. Thankfully, she appears a couple of minutes later, brandishing the bottle of Greek brandy.

I grab two glasses from the kitchen, and we each sit sipping our drinks as the rain gathers momentum and pelts on the roof of the apartment.

‘Looks like you got back here just in time.’

Standing and glancing out of the window, I notice the fast-running river alongside the lemon grove that had been little more than a trickle during the summer months.

‘Has the river ever overflowed?’ I ask Phoebe.

‘Not usually. The ground is so dry in summer, it usually absorbs the water well. Try to relax.’ She smiles. ‘Thunderstorms are quite common in late summer.’

‘I suppose so. I have always been a little nervous of them. I don’t mean to be a drama queen.’

‘Of course you are not,’ she says kindly. ‘Most people are afraid of thunderstorms.’

‘Well, that is true, I guess. Thanks, Phoebe.’

Through the patter of rain, I think I hear someone banging on the doors of the café downstairs.

I grab my keys and dash downstairs with Phoebe in pursuit. It is Rita from the walking group.

‘Oh thank goodness,’ she says breathlessly. ‘It’s John. He has fallen near one of the small coves; he slipped on a rock and he can’t move. There was no signal on my phone.’ She babbles, barely pausing for breath.

I usher her inside the café as Phoebe calls for help.

‘It may take a while for an ambulance to get through with the storm,’ says Phoebe. ‘But perhaps we can help.’

Most of the villagers are either too young or too old to help, but I am sure the two of us will be able to offer some assistance.

I grab a blanket in the hope we can create a makeshift stretcher, to at least get John to some nearby shelter. We are quickly out of the door and easing our way carefully down the forest path that leads towards the beach. On a fine day, the beach is no more than a ten-minute walk, but the path is slippy and already becoming treacherous.

‘Erin!’ I think I hear someone call my name but it disappears with the sound of the pelting rain.

‘Erin, wait.’ The sound becomes louder. I turn to see a man hurriedly making his way towards us wearing a waterproof jacket with the hood thrown up. As he draws closer, I see that it is Takis.

FORTY-FOUR