Page 17 of The Little Greek Guesthouse

He turned his head to look around in an exaggerated manner, shading his eyes and peering at her, at the table, around the courtyard. ‘Where is it then? I don’t see none.’

Nina laughed and tapped him lightly on the shoulder. ‘Stop that, she wouldn’t let me bring it. She kicked me out!’

At this Theo leaned forward, placing his feet on the floor. ‘What? Why did she do this?’

Nina shrugged, her cheeks beginning to flame with a return of righteous indignation. ‘I don’t know, she said it takes ages to bake and –’

He snorted. ‘It does not.’

‘And she said her grandson was coming back and I had to go but she said she’ll bring some round later.’

Theo sat back again, replacing his feet on the chair. ‘Oh well, the grandson,’ he said, waving a hand in dismissal. ‘No wonder, she thinks the moon shines out of that boy’s backside. Always she has. Par for pause with her.’

Nina’s lips twitched and she pushed Theo’s feet off the chair so she could sit. ‘Par for the course, Baba.’

‘This is what I said.’

‘She was asking about the hotel that’s buying the house, and I didn’t really know – what’s happening with that?’

Theo picked up his beer and took a slow swig, gazing out over the wall to the view of sea and sky. He shuffled forward in his seat then settled back again.

‘Ah, you know – we’re getting it ready, so I get a better offer.’

‘Yes, I know, but from who?’

‘Well, you know, Baba got his fingers in some pies.’ He wiggled said fingers in the air. ‘Playing the game, got plans and plans. Making sure I keep that promise to your mama that I’ll look after you. No worries for you, I do my job properly, you will be looked after. But we have time, my Antheia. Few weeks before the biggle wigs are coming to see.’

Nina laughed. ‘Big wigs, Baba.’

He shrugged. ‘What I said. Now, aren’t you out on the big date tonight, yes?’

Nina picked up her phone and checked the time. It wouldn’t hurt to start getting ready.

Chapter Nine

It had been a mistake to scroll Instagram.

She’d been feeling pretty good; she’d showered and teased her hair into shiny locks that fell effortlessly (after plenty of effort) over her shoulders. Her skin was glowing golden from days in the sun and her dark eyes glittered large and bright under winged liner and the perfect amount of mascara. The silky, rust-coloured dress clung in all the right places and added to the general effect of radiating a natural glow.

She sprayed perfume, added earrings and a necklace in a gold that complemented her mum’s bracelet, and realised she was ready half an hour early.

Most unlike her.

Not wanting to appear too keen, Nina waited in her room, streaming The Doors’ debut album, singing along and missing her vinyl collection. She cracked the shutters open to let in a salt-scented breeze, and picked up her phone.

And there he was. Sam. His beautiful face staring out at her from her Insta feed.

The shock was a punch to the gut, leaving her trembling and sick to her stomach. And yet she couldn’t stop herself clicking on his profile, scrolling picture after picture of the face that had been so familiar, the face she’d woken next to every morning, kissing his closed eyes as she and Sam dragged themselves from their bed to get ready for work together.

The face that now smiled as though he hadn’t a care in the world. Picture after picture of him flexing his muscles or eating at a swanky restaurant or showing off the designer sunglasses he’d bought.

And worse than all this, was her.

Mags. The friend that Nina had taken under her wing at work, showing her the ropes when she started, taking her out for a drink after a tough day, inviting her to dinner parties where she met Sam. Nina felt sick.

She peered at all the pictures, trying to glean as much information as she could, picking at the wound of their betrayal. What she found brought no comfort, as she scanned the background of the artfully posed photos and saw, to her horror, sitting behind Sam’s shoulder on a shelf in the flat that she’d so lovingly decorated, a lamp. It was a nice lamp, of green ceramic with a green floral shade. It was nice, but not to Nina’s taste. Certainly not to Sam’s taste. She knew exactly whose taste the lamp was to: Mags’s.

Nina stared at the offending item until her eyes blurred.