Page 36 of The Little Greek Guesthouse

‘I’m sure. I’ve checked; I’m not an idiot. I wouldn’t get in your way without knowing the facts. I have a life, you know.’

Nina still wanted to argue, to deny all he was claiming. But she was beginning to doubt herself. ‘Is it really that bad for the turtles?’

George looked impatient. ‘Yes. It confuses them, the babies especially. When they hatch and they go into the sea, the light messes up their instincts and they don’t know where to go. It threatens their survival. Why you’re being so bloody stubborn about it . . . you just don’t give a toss, do you? Maybe you just want to get the money you’re going to make out of the hotel, and you don’t care who gets hurt.’

She looked out at the turtles, swimming around the boats and began to feel a little sick. It didn’t help that George was staring so angrily at her. It was all too much. ‘Maybe you’re just – just trying to justify your stupid, crazy protests,’ she said defensively. ‘You’ve just got it in for me and my dad for some reason, I don’t even know –’

Nina only realised she was full-on crying when she tasted her own tears. And the realisation made her furious. Because he would think she was crying about him, that he had the power to affect her that much, and he was nothing to her, nothing more than an irritation, a splinter under the skin.

These tears were for something else. Something so precious now lost.

Suddenly overwhelmed with exhaustion, she batted the tears away and started to walk home. Turning back briefly, she saw George staring after her, his expression unreadable.

Chapter Seventeen

She’d found the house quiet when she got back, though she had a feeling that Theo was awake in his room; she could sense his alertness in the silence behind the door he’d left slightly ajar. Nina didn’t care. She crawled into her bed and immediately fell into a deep and troubled sleep, in which her mum stood at the mountain top, smiling and pointing into the distance, too far away for Nina to hear the words she spoke. Then in her dream, Nina walked around the house in Kefalonia, running her hand along the walls she’d painted white and admiring the furniture she had chosen for each room. She was searching for someone, but no one was to be found.

When she woke, her head aching as though she was hungover – deeply unfair without the fun of drinking beforehand to cause it – the sun was high in the sky through her unshuttered windows and the room was hot and stuffy. She was hungry, thirsty and in need of a shower.

Going in search of coffee, she was glad to see no sign of Theo but mortified to find Vassilis in the kitchen, giving his lazy smile and raising an eyebrow at the sight of her bedhead and the crumpled Rolling Stones t-shirt she’d slept in.

‘Hey, sleepy head,’ he said.

‘Bad night,’ she mumbled, thankful that there was coffee already in the pot and breathing in its rich, nutty aroma as she poured some into a mug.

‘Oh?’

‘I lost – well, actually my dad lost – my bracelet, you know the one I always wear? The one that was mum’s.’

‘Oh.’ He breathed out the word, his lips forming a perfect circle. ‘I didn’t know it was your mama’s.’

‘I spent the night looking for it but it’s just – gone.’

To her horror she began to cry, big ugly sobs that wedged themselves into her chest like a fist, and Vassilis stepped over to her, taking her in his strong arms and holding her as she tried not to get snot on his t-shirt that smelled of washing powder.

‘Hey,’ he said when the worst of the tears had stormed through her. ‘It’s okay. Maybe we go out somewhere nice, yes? Bring your mind away from this?’ He ducked his head and lifted her chin gently so that her watery gaze met his. She nodded, although she wasn’t really in the mood to be going out. But maybe the distraction would help.

It didn’t.

She’d half-heartedly showered and dressed, trying not to cry as she automatically looked for her bracelet to put on. She pulled a brush through her hair and swiped on the minimum of makeup. Even though she’d slept till the afternoon, she was tired, lacking the energy or enthusiasm to get dressed up, to get excited about fancy restaurants or exclusive clubs.

What she really wanted was to put on an old t-shirt and snuggle up on the sofa with some comfort TV and comfort food. She had an unexpected and unwelcome stab of longing for Sam, for those nights when she’d lounged makeup free on the sofa, curled into him as she watched a rubbish film, him with one eye on his laptop or phone, the other on the TV.

With a sickening lurch, she wondered now how often he was actually messaging Mags when he claimed he was messaging a colleague. How often he was seeing her when he told Nina he was at the gym or working late. She’d really thought she and Sam were happy; she’d thought they had a great life. She’d thought that she and Mags were friends.

Everything she’d thought she could rely on was gone, even her career. Her faith in her judgement. She’d been fooled by her boyfriend, and her friend.

She sighed, and met her gaze in the mirror. Her dark eyes were dull, her dark hair limp. No. She deserved better than Sam. She deserved someone who was invested in their relationship, who made an effort. Someone faithful, at the very least. And as for Mags’s friendship, that was a joke, too. That’s what Heather would tell her, had told her, on numerous occasions.

In fact, she realised it was Heather’s company she really craved right now. The warm, down-to-earth wisdom of her friend was irreplaceable. Luckily, she wouldn’t have long to wait for that; Heather was due to arrive in the next few weeks.

As she put the finishing touches to her hair, she tried to drag her thoughts away from missing her friend. Tried to be grateful that there was a handsome man waiting downstairs to take her out.

On the stairs she met Theo, coming up as she was walking down. They both stopped.

‘Oh –’ A pained expression crossed her dad’s face and he reached out a hand to her, but brought it back, letting it drop to his side. Nina could feel that her expression was stony, but she didn’t have the energy to change it. ‘My Antheia, I’m so sorry, I . . .’

She could see the pain in his eyes, the slight tremble in the hand that had reached out to her. A pang of love for him shot through her; she should embrace him now, she should reassure him that she forgave him for losing the bracelet, that it was just a thing, after all.