Page 35 of The Little Greek Guesthouse

‘It’s – it has sentimental value,’ she said, unable to keep the emotion out of her tone. ‘So, yes, it means a lot to me.’

George turned back, and his forehead wrinkled. ‘Oh. Well, that’s – we’d better find it then. I’ll help you look. What’s it like?’

‘Well, it’s – it’s a gold bangle with little diamonds in it, it’s . . .’ What could she say? There was no way to convey what the bracelet meant to her, and she didn’t particularly want to share her story with this stranger, who had done nothing but make their lives difficult and dismiss her as some spoilt princess. She sighed, holding in a sob, and pushed the hair from her face as she cast her gaze around the beach. ‘But I don’t think it’s here.’

There was a beat of silence as he looked at her with an intelligent and sympathetic gaze, his expression completely different from the derisory one he’d had just moments before. ‘Why don’t we look anyway,’ he said. ‘Just in case.’

She nodded. ‘Thanks.’

He stayed close to her as they searched silently, and she smelled coconut and fresh shower gel. Nina wondered briefly about this man, with his sandy hair and freckles and Welsh accent who appeared to live in Kefalonia, and apparently cared so passionately about the local wildlife. So passionately that he went storming ahead organising protests and vandalism without checking his facts, she thought, irritation rising in her.

She wondered, but not deeply. He was nothing to her, nothing more than an inconvenience, and her mind was filled with the fading image she so desperately wanted to cling to of the bracelet resting in the sand.

They spent a long time scouring the ground and occasionally bending to look more closely if they saw something that looked like the glint of metal or the curve of a bangle. It never was.

After what felt like an hour, when her back twinged and her neck ached from the constant bending and searching, Nina admitted defeat. She turned to George, who was still diligently looking under a rock.

‘It’s no use; it’s not here.’

George straightened and met her gaze with a nod. She had the feeling that he’d given up hope long ago, perhaps had never had any, but had been patiently waiting for her to come to the same realisation. ‘Well. I hope you find it. Genuinely,’ he said.

Grudgingly, she had to admit that she was grateful he’d said that, and not given some empty assurance that it would turn up. She folded her arms across her chest and glanced past his shoulder at the sea that was reflecting a honeyed strip of light as the sun rose.

‘I appreciate you helping.’

He nodded, and she should have left it at that. But she was tired and sad and angry, and she couldn’t let all the trouble he’d caused slide. If her dad hadn’t been so upset by the protests, then he might not have lost her bracelet in the first place.

‘You know we haven’t done anything –’

But he didn’t seem to hear her. He was gazing out over the water with a wistful expression, his lips lifting into a smile. The sun lit the golden hairs on his forearm as he lifted a hand to shade his eyes.

‘This is why I come here so early,’ he said.

‘Yes, the sunrise, it’s pretty, but –’

He shook his head, turning to her and smiling wider, and she realised that he was sharing something beautiful and private with her. She was special; he’d chosen to include her. He bent his head closer to hers, and she felt herself lean in, forgetting her anger at his accusations.

‘No, look,’ he said. ‘Next to the boats. See?’

She looked out to sea again, more closely this time, to where the boats were bobbing just off shore. As she stared she saw something, a little head dipping in and out of the water, a little flipper breaking the surface. She felt a smile spread over her face.

‘Turtles,’ she murmured, afraid that if she spoke too loudly she’d somehow scare them away. ‘I’ve never seen them before.’

He nodded. ‘They do this every morning, swim out with the fishing boats.’

‘And you come to watch?’

He turned to her. They were standing so close to each other that she could see the freckles smattering his nose and the long, pale eyelashes behind his glasses. She felt his gaze on her face as he smiled gently. ‘Yes. I mean, not every day. But yeah.’ He looked back out to sea. ‘That’s why we don’t want the hotel.’

She sighed, irritated again. Just as she was beginning to forget how bloody annoying he was he was back on one his tirades.

‘Oh, come on, it’s just one small hotel; it’ll hardly do any harm, and this place needs a bit of a . . .’

He was frowning, shaking his head. ‘I assume you’ve seen the plans for your hotel?’ he asked. ‘Because I have, and it’s not going to be some charming boutique-style place. It’s going to be a complex, with a pool and a restaurant and a bar, which means a lot of unnatural lighting. And all that light, it confuses the turtles that live here, it’ll have a real and terrible impact on their lives.’

This was more information than she’d been given. She was sure Theo had said it was just a small hotel. George must have it wrong.

‘No, it’s not . . . are you sure –’