Page 3 of The Little Greek Guesthouse

‘But I – what about job hunting?’

He snorted. ‘That job was no good for you anyway, what happened to my crazy brave little girl and her adventures? No good for you buying vases all day.’

‘Hey, I love my job –’ She paused. Maybe a week or two soaking up some sun wasn’t such a bad idea? And she’d love to see the places he and her mum had spent time in their youth. Plus it wasn’t like she had any other plans – and the thought of being here without even her dad for company made her heart sink. ‘But a holiday would be nice – and it would make me feel closer to Mum . . . and what she was like back then.’

Theo frowned, his gaze skidding from her face to the table, where he found something to stare at intently. ‘There won’t be time for beach-lazing and sightseeing. Too busy with the work.’

He always did this when she wanted to talk about her mum – he turned away, or changed the subject. Occasionally, he talked of the promise he’d made to her mother, that he would care for Nina and make sure she was safe and secure. A promise that he took very seriously, and often reminded Nina of when she wanted to do something reckless, like a sponsored parachute jump. But he avoided talking about details of their life together if he could; Nina suspected he thought he was protecting her by avoiding the subject.

‘But yes, you should come with me,’ he said, around a huge mouthful. ‘I’ll be needing help, lots to do, I have a plan you know.’ He wagged a finger at her. ‘This is not some bear-brain idea, I have it all in order.’

Nina snorted, almost choking on her pita.

‘Hare-brained, Baba.’

He shrugged. ‘This is what I said.’

Chapter Two

Nina glanced blearily at her phone, registered that it was nine thirty and that on any normal Thursday she would have already been at work for an hour, having jumped out of bed at six to shower and blow-dry her hair, and to make a pot of the expensive Colombian coffee that she and Sam liked. They would sit and drink it before setting off for their high-flying jobs, making plans for an evening together.

She squeezed her eyes shut to stop the tears that threatened to fall yet again, pulled the cover over her head and rolled over. She’d lost everything – the job she loved, the man she loved, her friendship with Mags, the glamorous life in Manchester she’d built. And now she was stuck at home in her suburban teenage bedroom with no boyfriend and no prospects. She couldn’t deal with the world today.

Even Theo’s attempts to rouse her failed; she ignored the smell of breakfast drifting up from the kitchen, the tempting scent of Greek omelette, then Theo himself as he opened the curtains and sat on the end of her bed, waving the plate and a mug of freshly brewed coffee at her.

‘I know you mean well, Baba, but I need to be alone,’ she said, her voice dry and cracked. She licked her lips and peered out from under the covers, blinking in the unwelcome light. The coffee did smell really good. ‘My life’s over and there’s nothing you can do.’ Her voice wobbled like it used to when she was a little girl, and she felt bad as she saw him sigh, his face etched with melancholy.

‘Ah my little Antheia,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘Smart and brave girl like you, the world’s at your feet, if only you can see it.’

She heaved herself to a sitting position, clutching the duvet to her like a baby with a comfort blanket. ‘Thanks, Baba. Maybe I’ll see it another day, but today it feels like everything’s gone wrong and I just can’t deal with it.’

He sighed and nodded, turning to leave as she flopped back down, rolling away from him and pulling the covers up over her shoulders. ‘You can leave the coffee and the omelette,’ she said, her voice muffled.

He smirked a little as he placed them on her bedside table, next to the framed picture of Nina and her mum that she’d brought with her.

‘Don’t look so pleased with yourself,’ she muttered. ‘No point in wasting good food, that’s all.’

As soon as she heard the door close she sat up, grabbing the mug and savouring the delicious, nutty flavour of the coffee. He’d warmed the milk, just how she liked it. Stabbing the omelette, she dolefully chewed a mouthful of egg, feta and onion, opening Instagram and browsing all the pictures of everyone’s beautiful, perfect lives with their beautiful, perfect partners and beautiful, perfect jobs.

For the hundredth time since they’d split, she scrolled Sam’s Insta, pressing into the wound of the loss of him. Reels of him doing weights at the gym, pictures of him looking smart and chiselled as he drank expensive whisky at a work do, a girl leaning close to him for a selfie of the two of them as he beamed at the camera.

Not just any girl. Mags.

Nina almost threw up the omelette.

She stared at the picture, at Mags with her big green eyes and little pointed chin and happy, happy smile.

It was a thing, then. Not just a one-off, not just a fling, not just a stupid mistake that meant nothing. He’d lied about that, he’d probably been seeing Mags for months behind Nina’s back, cheating on her, deceiving her, time and again. He said it meant nothing, but Mags had become his new girlfriend, she’d probably eventually be his wife, maybe the mother of his three beautiful, green-eyed children.

She might be getting slightly carried away.

Either way, Sam wasn’t moping in his childhood bedroom, and Mags was hardly riddled with guilt, was she? Neither of them cared at all about what they’d done. Nina swallowed the double whammy of hurt. Her boyfriend and the girl she’d trusted as a good friend, both had betrayed her. Mags’s deceit was almost more painful, in fact.

She threw the phone onto the floor, pulled the covers right over her head and sobbed. She would close the stupid curtains, if only she could be bothered.

‘Oh, dear.’

Heather didn’t bother to knock, but barged into the bedroom and flicked on the light to reveal the sorry lump of her friend under the covers, where she’d been all day, listening to her record collection.