Page 23 of The Little Greek Guesthouse

Nina removed her sunglasses to glare at him all the more fiercely, and she saw some reaction in him as their eyes met, an opening of his face, a parting of the lips. She was too annoyed to think about what it might mean.

‘It is my bloody business if you’re vandalising my bloody house. Again.’

He rocked back on his heels, throwing his head back as though she was the one being stupidly infuriating and testing his infinite patience. ‘Oh my god. I told you, it’s washable, it’s not vandalism. Is that really all you care about? A bit of a smudge on your front door and having your beauty sleep disturbed.’ As he said this his gaze travelled her face. ‘You’re just an entitled little princess who doesn’t care about anything but herself.’

Fury was beating through Nina’s veins, her heart pounding and her ears thrumming. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing – this personal attack from a stranger who knew nothing about her, and had no reason to say such awful things. ‘And you’re just a lunatic who attacks innocent people for no reason!’

‘No reason? You know this wildlife has been part of the place for hundreds of years, long before your greedy plans to threaten their habitat. You just swan in here and start to destroy everything without caring about the harm it does to innocent creatures, never mind the community that have lived in the village without causing any damage to anything all this time. Did you even think about what the people who live here want? Or what will happen to the environment?’

‘What?’ Nina threw her hands in the air, giving up on trying to make any sense of what he was saying. ‘Have you just made all of this up or are you just stupid? None of this is real; you’re an idiot.’

He snorted and shook his head. ‘And you’re a liar.’

He picked up the bucket, and on some level she registered surprise to see the cording of the muscles in his forearms as he lifted it, then turned and walked away.

‘Whatever you’ve done to the house this time, I’m calling the police!’ she yelled after his retreating back.

‘Go ahead,’ he called, without turning round.

Fuming, she marched to the house, glaring around to see what new damage he had caused. There was nothing. Just the front door, graffiti free and gleaming wet in the sun, soap suds slipping down its surface.

Chapter Eleven

Vassilis had brought her to a cocktail bar this time. She had spent hours getting ready, and she knew she looked good; the red dress clung to her curves in all the right places and showed off her golden skin, her makeup was carefully sculpted, her hair fell gently over her shoulders and the sun was bringing out the natural highlights she used to have as a child.

She was on her second mojito and was feeling a pleasant mix of contentment and excitement as Vassilis reached across the table in the courtyard of the bar, running his fingers over the inside of her wrist. The rhythm of his touch, quite chaste really but also somehow suggestive, was drawing her into a dream of more.

Dragging her mind back to the here and now, she glanced around at the bar; another luxurious place. Vassilis has insisted on paying for dinner last time they’d gone out, though she’d tried to persuade him to split the bill. At least here she could buy a few rounds of drinks. ‘This is lovely,’ she said. ‘It’s so – it’s a real treat, you know, a special occasion kind of place.’

He nodded. ‘Of course.’

‘And you know I love getting dressed up and coming somewhere like this, but – it doesn’t always have to be something so glamorous; sometimes something quieter can be nice too, can’t it?’ She didn’t want to suggest that he couldn’t afford to keep this up, and she had been enjoying having a bit of glamour in her life. But she didn’t want him to feel under pressure to do this every time they went out.

‘Oh well this is good to know. Perhaps next time I’ll cook for you, yes?’ He grinned. ‘This is a good plan. My fire alarms need a test.’

Nina laughed. ‘I’m sure you’re not that bad.’

He pulled a face. ‘Is better we don’t find out. But tonight we are here so . . . you want to dance? You’d like some music, yes?’

She wasn’t really the clubbing type, quite honestly, though she and Heather had enjoyed a good few nights of drunken dancing when they were younger. Lately she had preferred a quiet drink in a bar with girlfriends or a romantic meal out or a simple night in snuggled up with Sam on the sofa watching a film.

Not that there had been many of those, she realised. Sam often spent evenings at the gym, and even if they were both at home, he’d have his laptop open, work taking priority.

Tonight, she wanted to let her hair down. Why should she not have fun? She was young, she was free, she was out with a gorgeous man who kept finding reasons to touch her. And she needed to take her mind off the last few days of stress over stupid protesters and seeing Theo so angry and upset with Maria.

Tonight was about Nina. It was about having fun.

She nodded and took a large sip of mojito, savouring the crisp, fresh flavour and enjoying the immediate buzz.

‘Club sounds perfect,’ she said.

They finished their drinks and he led her away, his arm warm around her waist, through streets that thronged with holidaymakers and partygoers, lined with restaurants and bars. On the other side of the road, the dark water of the harbour glistened, and there was a part of Nina that wished, briefly, to be walking on the other side of it, away from the crowds, hand in hand and sharing stories as they slowly opened up to each other. But tonight wasn’t that; tonight she needed to drink and dance, to forget any troubles and feel light and bright in Vassilis’s company.

They walked across the road and down another street, buzzing with bars, until they finally reached a queue of people waiting outside a club, mostly tourists, Nina guessed. The crowd seemed young to Nina – teenagers and kids in their early twenties, dressed up and drunk, hoping for a good time. Groups of girls talking loudly and giggling with each other while eyeing up the boys, groups of boys messing around and laughing while glancing at the girls to ensure they were making an impression.

Nina remembered those nights, the taste of alcopops and regret as she staggered home, her hair smelling faintly of smoke or vomit or both, having kissed a stranger who was too drunk to stand steady in some dark corner.

She supposed it had been fun at the time. But the thought just made her tired now. Thank god she was here with a mature man who wanted to be with her, who was making an effort to impress her, and not on the lookout for some boy who didn’t know or care about her at all.