Page 28 of The Little Greek Guesthouse

Nina went over to him and put her arm through his, resting her head on his shoulder. ‘Sorry, Baba. I’ll make it up to you.’ The sun was like a blade through her head. She wouldn’t be doing any DIY today. ‘I’ll help tomorrow. But it is Sunday, why don’t we go for a walk to the beach and get some breakfast at the café?’

He raised his eyebrows.

Nina shrugged. ‘Well okay – breakfast for me, lunch for you.’

‘Late lunch,’ he said. But she could see he was mollified. ‘Okay then. You can buy me lunch. But have a shower first, eh? Smell like a beer garden.’

She didn’t remember offering to pay, but he was smiling now, so she said nothing. There were shadows under his eyes and she wondered whether he was sleeping well; he usually slept like a log and ate like a horse, enjoying all life’s small pleasures with enthusiasm, but he still didn’t seem himself. She was a little worried about him, and guilt that she’d slept in and let him down pinched at her.

It wasn’t like her to drink so much and stay out so late, she thought as she stood in the shower, relieved as the water gently washed away the remnants of last night. She began to feel fresher and more awake.

Vassilis had taken her to Argostoli again, arriving with a beautifully wrapped box of chocolates for her, and the evening had started early and finished late. They began in a bar, one of the most beautiful she’d ever been in, with cream walls and gentle lighting and the hushed murmur of exclusivity. The cocktails had been expensive, delicious and deceptively strong. They sat on a cream leather sofa that curved into a quiet corner and was sheltered from the other customers. Vassilis was so close, his strong thigh resting next to hers, the heat of his body seeping into hers as he asked about her life in England and listened intently to her replies, and she felt like she was in heaven. It was a far cry from the loud crowds of work colleagues on her nights out with Sam.

This was followed by another high-end restaurant, and they sat on a terrace overlooking the harbour, under strings of fairy lights. The tables were spaced out to afford privacy, and they were clearly at the best one with the best view. She couldn’t help but admire the weight of the luxury silverware and tablecloth, the sparkling crystal of the glasses their wine was served in.

‘This place is stunning,’ she had murmured as he pulled out the chair for her to sit in. ‘But you shouldn’t be spending all your hard-earned money on me.’

His dad’s building firm must be doing very well, she thought. Vassilis had inherited a thriving business, clearly.

He brushed the back of her neck with his lips, sending shivers down her spine. ‘Well, here is a secret. Don’t tell anyone,’ he said softly. The warmth of his breath almost had her swooning. ‘But the owner is –’

‘Let me guess – a friend of yours?’

He laughed as he sat down, looking rueful. ‘Now you understand it. So I am getting the – how do you say it? Friends’ rate.’

‘You have some useful friends!’

He nodded. ‘Very good friends, yes. I am fortunate. And I am very happy to share my good fortune with the woman I have come to like, very much.’

Nina smiled, blushing. The diamonds on her bangle glinted in the light as she reached for the wine, and she wished her mum could see her now. All her life Nina had tried to be the Clare she’d known: effortlessly beautiful, sophisticated, worthy of pampering. She felt that now, with Vassilis, she was finally there. This was how he saw her, as Theo had seen her mum perhaps, and she loved it.

And even though the earlier version of Clare, with her purple hair and multiple piercings, didn’t quite fit with the version she remembered, in a way, it was more precious for that; to get a glimpse of her mum as a teenage rebel, someone who forged her own path and had her own unique style.

The stuffed peppers she ordered were perfection, and soon disappeared as she listened to Vassilis’s hilarious stories of some disastrous or tasteless building jobs he’d done. She laughed so hard she almost spat rice across the linen cloth as he described in wicked detail the client who’d insisted he extend the textured wallpaper from the walls to the ceiling of her bedroom, and then had him paint over it in pink gloss, and the man who wanted leopard print on his outside walls.

‘Well, each to their own, I suppose,’ she said, hiccupping down a laugh and taking a sip of wine.

He shook his head, straightening his knife and fork. ‘Exactly. But you, you would never allow this ugly choice, I know it. You have the best taste, I can see from even what you do in Theo’s house, and what you tell me about your job in Manchester.’

‘Thanks.’ She had smiled. ‘I do have some ideas about the house, you know, if we were staying. Wooden floors in the bedrooms and a blue theme running through with borders and door handles, maybe, and beautiful, subtle ornaments, just a few in each room, simple vases like a Liang and Eimil Wiley perhaps, and . . .’

He had sat back in his chair, dark eyes on her. ‘Sounds like you have plans.’

‘Oh –’ She waved a hand, dismissing the images that had filled her mind. ‘Not really. Just – dreaming, I suppose.’ It was hard to shake this urge, to fill the rooms and make them her own, and she couldn’t help but imagine welcoming guests to this beautiful place she and Theo would create, seeing their faces as they took in the understated, elegant beauty. What a haven she would make, a perfectly calm place to holiday in beautiful Metalios.

Vassilis leaned forward, laying his arm across the table and holding his hand out. She placed hers in his, losing herself and all her dreams of a guesthouse in his dark eyes.

‘This is your dream. This beautiful home you make, and I know you will do it if it is what you wish. So talented and smart. But you are my dream, this beautiful woman come to my life.’ He grinned and cocked his head to the side. ‘Is the cheesy thing to say, I know. But it is true.’ He raised her hand and kissed it, and the heat of his lips made her dizzy. ‘I have something for you,’ he said.

Gently, he released her and reached into his pocket, bringing out a silver necklace that dangled from his finger. She took it from him, feeling the fine chain.

‘You like it, yes?’

‘It’s beautiful. Thank you.’

He stood and took the necklace from her, and she lifted her hair so that he could fasten it around her neck. ‘Beautiful,’ he murmured, kissing her collarbone.

Afterwards, they went to another bar. Nina didn’t realise quite how much she’d drunk until he helped her out of the taxi when they got home, and the ground beneath her tilted a little.