Page 26 of The Little Greek Guesthouse

Removing the black vein was more of a challenge – overconfident now, Nina stabbed at the first shrimp, making a mess and prompting Maria to tut and shake her head.

‘What you doing?’ she cried. ‘Making mess like this.’

‘I don’t know, Baba always makes it look so easy.’

Maria flicked a look at her, but said nothing about Theo. ‘Just – gently, pick it with the point of the knife. Again.’ She waved her hand imperiously at the shrimp, and Nina felt like she was being instructed by a grumpy chef. She stifled a smile.

The second attempt was more successful, and she grinned, brandishing the clean shrimp for Maria’s approval. The small nod she received in return meant the world.

‘He’s not himself lately,’ she said, carefully focusing on her work. ‘Baba.’

Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of Maria flicking her that look again. The older woman shrugged.

Nina kept her voice light. ‘I think he’s upset about something.’

Maria snorted. ‘What’s he got to be upset about? Selling his family home and make all the money with no care for what a mess it all makes.’

Nina frowned. Was this what Maria and Theo had argued about? She didn’t understand why Maria was so bothered about what Theo did with his own home. The hotel might bring a few more tourists to the area but it was hardly going to turn into Argostoli, she thought, trying not to smile at the memory of her night with Vassilis. She began to slice the tomatoes and strain them in the colander, as she had seen Theo do.

Maria grunted her approval and began chopping the onion, garlic and chilli, her knife moving deftly, hitting the board with a little more force than was necessary. ‘And what you smiling for like this?’ she grumbled. ‘Telling yourself a story in your head?’

Nina hastily wiped the smile from her face, dragging her thoughts away from the way Vassilis had gently stroked the hair from her face as he kissed her. ‘You know, it is his house, I don’t think it’s going to . . .’ she said.

Maria tutted. ‘Your mama would never allow it.’

Nina almost dropped the tomatoes. She had to wait a moment for her heartbeat to steady and her head to stop swimming. ‘You met my mum?’ she asked. ‘You – you knew her?’

Maria nodded. ‘Lovely girl. Just what Theo need to have adventures with.’

Nina smiled, thinking of the life Theo and Clare had built; having a family, working, holidaying. She supposed it was an adventure of sorts.

‘She was beautiful, wasn’t she?’ she said. ‘So glamorous. She always knew which clothes to wear; she was always looking her best, wasn’t she?’

Maria shrugged. ‘Well, maybe . . . in her way, I suppose.’

‘What was she like? When you knew her?’

Nina sat on the chair next to Maria, elbow on the table and chin in hand, interested in nothing but hearing about her mum now.

‘Well keep cooking and I tell you,’ Maria said. ‘But I only knew her such a short while. Your baba can tell you much more.’

Something in Nina’s stomach twisted. She stood to heat oil in a pan and add the tomatoes, onions, garlic and chilli. ‘He doesn’t really talk about her,’ she said, staring into the pan, the ingredients sizzling in the hot oil, the spices stinging her eyes and making them water.

Maria watched her thoughtfully. And as Nina sautéed the shrimp, splashed ouzo onto them and mixed all the ingredients together, Maria told her how Clare had been travelling through Kefalonia, a sweet young thing with purple hair, a huge rucksack and a ready smile.

‘Purple hair?’ Nina laughed, thinking of her mum’s glossy dark locks. That must have been a teenage phase, it certainly didn’t fit with the polished woman she’d known.

‘Oh, yes. Quite the scandal in little sleepy Metalios, what with that and the piercings.’

‘The – what? Her ears?’

‘Ears, nose, belly is all that we saw.’

Again, Nina struggled to picture a young Clare like this. Now she thought about it, she did remember that her mum had had extra piercings in her ears, though she only ever wore two earrings. The others must have healed up.

She watched as Maria crumbled feta into the sauce and placed the lid on the pan, pointing to a cupboard with a look of exasperation. ‘What, we going to eat off the table? Get some plates out then.’

‘Right, yes,’ said Nina, thinking that she’d have to adjust her image of her mum as a young woman.