Page 22 of The Little Greek Guesthouse

Her food arrived, the children immediately leaving Eirini to tug on their smiling grandfather’s apron and speak to him in their sweet, sing-song voices.

‘They’re asking for ice cream,’ Eirini said. ‘My boys. Epikos.’

She indicated the eldest, who shook his long hair out of his eyes and smiled. ‘Yassas,’ he said, in a confident and friendly manner, and Nina nodded a hello.

‘And Xernao, the little one.’

Yiannis, laughing and patting the children’s heads, leaned over them to place Nina’s food on the table. The smell of the scrambled eggs with tomato and feta filled the air, and she found herself falling on the food as soon as the plate touched the table. ‘Thank you,’ she mumbled through a mouthful. But Yiannis was already walking away, tailed by the children.

‘Bad morning?’ Eirini asked. ‘If I’m prying then just –’

‘No, it’s fine.’ Nina forced herself to stop eating for long enough to reply. ‘Just – this stupid bloke, I think Baba called him George or something, he brought a crazy crowd of people to do some kind of protest this morning and they woke me up and he was really rude, actually, and Baba doesn’t even seem to care and . . . I don’t know.’ She sighed. Eirini was grinning. ‘What?’

‘Oh, nothing. It’s just – this is George.’ She shrugged. ‘He has his passions, you might say, and he won’t let things go if he feels some kind of injustice or . . .’

Nina had just taken another mouthful, but she couldn’t help protesting. ‘And that’s all fine, of course, that’s good, but what the he –’ She caught sight of the children returning, carrying bowls of Greek yogurt and honey. ‘What the hippos does he think we’ve done that’s so unjust?’

Somehow her channelling of Heather’s habit of replacing offensive words with innocuous ones rather took the fire out of her.

Eirini shrugged. ‘No idea. But knowing George, you’ll be finding out soon.’

They were both distracted by the children, who argued over which of them was going to sit next to their mum until Nina solved the issue by moving over a space and allowing them to sit either side of her.

Eirini stroked each of their heads and pinched their cheeks gently as, having squabbled about sitting next to her, they ignored her completely while they ate their yogurt.

‘Seriously,’ she whispered, rolling her eyes at Nina. ‘How soon is it time for drinks? You come find me when it is and we’ll share some wine, yes?’

Nina nodded. ‘Excellent plan.’

Feeling more cheerful, she made her way back to the house, full of eggs and looking forward to having a drink and a chat with Eirini sometime soon. She had loved her night out with Vassilis, and was looking forward to seeing him again, but there was no substitute for a good girlfriend, and she was missing Heather; Eirini was friendly, smart and fun. It would be good to get to know her a bit better.

She found herself smiling and swinging her handbag as she walked through the pretty town square, watching as a woman at a market stall half-heartedly shooed Milo away from her peaches; life wasn’t so bad after all. Perhaps soon she’d be able to laugh about the absurdity of a bunch of locals organising a protest against her and Theo by mistake. Her lips twitched at the idea. Yes, it was just a daft misunderstanding, that was all.

Well, obviously the sandy-haired, blue-eyed George wasn’t exactly local. He certainly didn’t look or sound Greek; he’d spoken English with a slight Welsh lilt, if her mind wasn’t playing tricks on her. She didn’t know what the story was, there, but hopefully she wouldn’t see him again, and none of this would matter.

The sound of raised voices made her stop in her tracks. The ruckus was coming from Maria’s. And one of the voices sounded like Theo’s.

She went into the courtyard, where the rope that should have been tied to Milo’s collar lay on the ground. The voices came from inside the kitchen, a lot of shouting in Greek, and as Nina peered through the open window, she saw that it was indeed Theo, throwing his arms around and red in the face as he and Maria argued.

Nina blinked. Theo had a dramatic streak, she couldn’t deny that, but it was usually a playful exaggeration that involved eyerolling and jerking around, the aim of which seemed to be to make whoever was watching laugh. And it was usually successful; he certainly cheered her up with his antics. He wasn’t hot-tempered, though. She had rarely heard him raise his voice in genuine anger. But that was what was happening now as he scowled and shook his head while Maria poked him and spoke in angry, animated Greek.

Shaken, Nina slipped away. Once again she wished that Theo had chosen to bring her up bilingual. But he hadn’t, choosing to give her dual nationality but thinking she would fit in better with other children if she spoke only English, and she had no idea what her dad and their neighbour were arguing about so fiercely.

Her mood was not improved when she arrived at the house to find none other than the infamous George, looking shifty as he quickly ducked onto the street. He was carrying something, a bucket, and he’d clearly been up to some kind of mischief at the house again. What now? Had he got paint in the bucket that he’d thrown onto a wall? Or stones that he’d used to break windows with? He glanced over his shoulder at her as he hurried away.

Well. If he thought she was some timid thing too scared to confront him then he’d made a mistake.

Furious, she bore down on him. He glanced over his shoulder again, and picked up speed as he scuttled away. Did he really think he could run away like some naughty kid?

‘Hey!’ she yelled. She could feel a flush of rage spreading over her cheeks. She wasn’t in the mood to be messed around. ‘Don’t run away from me.’

He skidded to a halt and turned to face her, sighing. He looked about as happy to see her as she was to see him, those blue eyes glowering behind tortoiseshell-rimmed glasses.

‘What?’ he snapped.

‘What have you been doing?’

‘None of your business.’