Page 34 of The Little Greek Guesthouse

And the fury finally came crashing through. ‘But it’s not in my bloody room, is it?’ she yelled. ‘It’s not where I left it because you moved it, and now it’s gone, you put it somewhere and now it’s gone. What’s wrong with you?’

Theo ran trembling hands through his hair. He looked distraught, and on some level guilt surged in Nina that she was making him feel so bad, but it was overwhelmed by grief over the bracelet. ‘I – I don’t know,’ he said desperately. ‘Perhaps – maybe you put it on again and it fell off? When you were out maybe?’

His face was pale and the tears in his eyes threatened to spill over. Nina couldn’t bear to see him like this, but neither could she contain her anger with him at losing the bracelet, her most precious possession.

‘Ugh, you’re useless,’ she snapped, turning on her heel and leaving, slamming the door behind her.

She hadn’t touched the bracelet since she’d taken it off that morning, she knew she hadn’t. It hadn’t fallen from her wrist. Her mind was reeling and she was desperate; she would try anything at this point, she would give anything to see it again, to run her finger over the metal knowing she was touching what her mum had touched.

The bracelet wasn’t anywhere to be found in the house. They’d gone through every room, cupboard and drawer looking for it; there was nowhere left to look.

Despairing, Nina decided to go and search the places she’d been recently: the café, the cliffs, the beach.

She couldn’t have lost it outside. But she would search anyway. She would do anything to have it back.

Chapter Sixteen

The village was peaceful at night, the warm fragrant breeze a caress against her hot skin, the moon lighting her way around the deserted buildings. Had she thought about it, she might have considered that the last thing this quiet, pretty little place needed was nightlife. But she was too distracted by searching for the bracelet to think of anything else.

She hovered outside Maria’s house on the way out, wanting to check her garden but reluctant to disturb her. She imagined her friend, her white-streaked hair spread on the pillow as she slept. If Nina made a noise as she searched outside the house it might disturb her, might frighten her even. Although she doubted that Maria was easily spooked, somehow. And she had the grandson with her, didn’t she, the good boy come to care for his yia-yia while she recovered from her injury.

For an absurd moment she considered banging on the door, rousing Maria from sleep and telling her all that had happened. She would understand. But Nina wouldn’t do that; she wouldn’t disturb her friend in the middle of the night, no matter how desperately she longed for comfort from her. Quietly, she eased the gate open and crept into the front yard, where the pale slabs glowed in the moonlight and Maria’s neat plant pots sat in the corners. Milo was nowhere to be seen, probably snoozing in her little shed at the back of the house. Fruitlessly, Nina searched the ground, lifting the heavy pots, peering under the table, examining the doorstep. No bracelet. As she had known there would be. Sighing, and with fury and frustration still tearing through her, she gave one last glance at the house; the windows were still shuttered, all was still silent. Nina moved on.

The café courtyard was immaculately clean, chairs sitting under spotless tables, a lizard darting over warm flagstones, so fast Nina almost missed it. The café awning flapped gently in the breeze, and the scent of oleander flowers drifted through the air.

Nina ran her hand over every table, peered at every chair, bent to search the ground.

Nothing. As she knew there would be.

She walked through the square, past the market place and the church and the tree with its little wall where a black and white cat slept. She walked up the street, past the houses painted in cream and yellow and terracotta, the shutters closed, their inhabitants peaceful in their beds.

Next, she decided to search the mountains where she and her dad had talked about his childhood such a short time ago, when all still felt right with the world. She needed to move her body, get this tension out of her, and so she raced up the path to the top as fast as she could, keeping her eye on the ground. No gold glinting in the moonlight, no diamonds sparkling through the scrubby grass. Even in her haste, even rushing as she was, her gaze still strayed to the craggy surface of the mountainside, and she imagined stretching and pulling herself up it as she climbed it. The burn of her limbs, the focus of her mind on which spot to reach for next, pushing out every other thought. The satisfaction as she reached the top, looking down over the climb she’d just achieved. It had been so long since she’d had that feeling.

When she reached the top, her heart pounded and a stitch burned in her side. She searched the places where she and Theo had stood, but found nothing. Flopping onto her back, the warm grass prickling her skin through her t-shirt, she stared up at the black sky, the bright moon and flickering stars, until she felt she could sense the turning of the earth. Crickets chirped peacefully and the scent of the wildflowers pushing through the ground where she lay reminded her of her mum’s perfume. Would Clare forgive her, if this last connection to her was lost? Could Nina forgive her Baba?

At last, as the sky was beginning to lighten, she dragged herself to her feet. One last place to look. The beach called to her as she made her way down to it, the sand white gold in the fading moonlight. She could see already that some of the fishermen were readying their boats, about to brave the water for their morning catch.

Logic told her the bracelet wasn’t there. How could it be? She had left it on the side at home, she hadn’t worn it since. But she had to try, just in case by some forgotten turn of events she had dropped it there.

Now, the more she thought about it, the more convinced she was she would find it. Hurrying on, hope beating in her now, she imagined the bangle nestled behind a rock on the beach, or half buried in the sand, or tangled in seaweed at the shoreline. She pictured it so clearly, willing it into existence so hard, that she had all but convinced herself by the time the grass under her feet became sand.

She slowed as she reached the beach, her feet slipping in the sand, trying to recall where she and Theo had walked with Eirini and the children, ignoring the fishermen who busied themselves at the water’s edge, calling softly to each other. She focused on the ground, kicking away stones and seaweed in case the bracelet was hidden beneath, bending to smooth down little heaps of sand in case it nestled inside them. Trying to keep the image of the bracelet, sitting waiting for her to discover it, fresh in her mind.

She was so intent on her search that she didn’t notice the man on the beach with her until a pair of brown leather sandals fixed with a toggle stopped in front of her.

‘You here for the turtles?’ a voice said. A voice with a soft Welsh lilt, rising at the end of the sentence, as though in surprise.

Nina looked up to see George, the protest leader, standing looking down at her. Great. Absolutely the last person she wanted to see right now.

‘No,’ she said standing and brushing her sandy hands down the legs of her shorts. ‘I’m looking for something.’ As she spoke, tears filled her eyes, and to her horror, a few rolled down her cheeks – right in front of her nemesis.

‘Oh.’ There was a flicker of something in those blue eyes. Concern. ‘You’ve lost something?’

‘Obviously,’ she said dryly, to try and regain some control in front of him. Then, relenting a little as he stood patiently, ignoring her sharp tone, she added, ‘A bracelet.’

His expression closed again, the concern disappearing. ‘Uh-huh,’ he said. ‘That kind of stuff means a lot to you, doesn’t it? Trinkets.’ He was already turning away.

He was insufferable. Him and his self-righteousness.