Page 5 of The Little Greek Guesthouse

Perhaps it wasn’t a laugh-a-minute riot. But who had time for that, in the real world? Fun was overrated.

‘I just don’t know where it all went wrong,’ she said, tears beginning to trickle down her face.

‘Come here, you sad sack.’ Heather leaned over and enveloped Nina in a tight hug. She smelled of Dolce & Gabbana’s Light Blue, wine and cheese puffs. Nina found herself clinging to her friend.

‘You know,’ Heather said, releasing her and holding out a tissue. ‘This might even turn out to be a good thing.’ She smiled at Nina’s frown. ‘I know it doesn’t feel like it now. But it might be a chance to rethink things a bit, start over, do something completely different.’

Nina snorted. ‘Like what?’

Heather shrugged. ‘Well, like spend the summer in Kefalonia, for a start.’

‘I can’t do that, I need to find a new job! And a flat. For god’s sake.’ An image of herself lying on the beach, listening to the sound of lapping waves and reapplying sun lotion as she ordered a mojito drifted through her mind. If only.

She sighed and grabbed the bag of cheese puffs. ‘And stop pigging all of these, leave some for me,’ she said, shoving a handful into her mouth.

Chapter Three

She couldn’t go to Kefalonia.

There was too much to do, wasn’t there? She needed to look for another job, another flat, possibly a flatmate. She had been at her old job for five years, her redundancy pay wasn’t going to last forever. She needed to decide where she wanted to live, what she wanted to do. The thought set her heart racing again as panic set in; everything had been going to plan, she’d thought her life was on track. Now, when she thought about the future her mind went dark and her palms began to sweat. She had no idea what she was going to do, no idea how to begin rebuilding her life.

Nina looked at her reflection in the mirror of her dressing table. She’d loved that thing as a teenager, carefully plucking eyebrows and curling hair and painting nails. All with the pictures of her mum that were attached to the mirror, looking as glamorous as ever, smiling down at her.

She stared at her reflection now, pale and blotched and makeup free. Her hair a mess and, to be honest, a bit dirty. There was something blank about her expression. She needed to shower and blow-dry her hair, paint her face, fix her nails. Then she’d feel better, feel more like herself.

Somehow she couldn’t summon the energy. She gazed at the pictures of her mum, Clare, long dark hair bouncing around her face, her eyes bright and full of warmth. Nina would watch her getting ready to go out with her dad, spraying perfume and putting on earrings, squeezing her feet into high-heeled shoes. Laughing, pulling Nina into a fragrant hug before they left, promising not to be too late and warning the babysitter not to let her eat too many biscuits. She always did.

Nina didn’t know what her mum would think of her now. This plain, wet-blanket of a girl she’d apparently turned into.

Her favourite picture was the one on the bedside table, the one she took with her wherever she went. The one of them together, both grinning at the camera, Nina wrapped in her mum’s arms. They were windswept in this photo, hair tangled, their cheeks flushed and eyes bright. She remembered that day as if it were yesterday. She was about ten. It was a family trip, a drive, a picnic, a walk up Stanage Edge. Nina had raced to the top, scrambling like a little mountain goat with her parents close behind, Theo calling for her to be careful, to slow down, and Clare laughing and telling him to stop fussing, cheering Nina on.

It was that trip that kicked off her love of climbing. Theo and Clare had taken her every Saturday to lessons at the local sports centre, and she’d raced up those walls. She was strong and she was smart, always working out the best route to the top. And she was brave, never hesitating or second-guessing herself. She joined the club, learned to belay. Her muscles still remembered the feeling of balancing and pulling herself to the next position. She’d almost let herself forget the soaring joy of seeing the diminished world below as she gazed down from the top of yet another wall, filled with triumphant joy.

Nina found her reflection smiling, glimpsed a spark of that adventurous little girl in her eyes.

She’d never had the chance to learn about who her mum was before she’d settled down. As a child Nina had no interest in that, and her later attempts to get Theo to open up had always been met with him shutting down. Nina could see the pain that just mentioning her mum brought him, and so she gave up.

She knew they’d met in Kefalonia, when Theo was a young man still living there and Clare a young woman travelling through. Nina had vague memories of childhood holidays there, of meeting relatives, but since it had just been her and Theo they’d never been back.

She shook herself, showered and brushed out her hair. Downstairs, she found Theo loading the dishwasher. She helped him put the mugs in, laughing as he tutted and huffed and told her she was doing it all wrong.

‘Baba,’ she said. ‘I think I will come to Kefalonia.’

His face lit up. ‘Ah, my little Antheia,’ he said. ‘My heart will boom with joy.’

‘Burst,’ she said, kissing his cheek. ‘Your heart will burst, Baba.’

He opened his eyes wide in mock horror, clutching his chest and staggering backwards. ‘I hope not! How could you wish this thing on me, cruel girl?’

Shopping was the first order of the day. Money wasn’t tight, exactly; she’d always been sensible so she had savings, and her redundancy payout. Still, without knowing when she’d have a wage coming in, she knew she’d better go for budget options.

Nina tried to ignore the plummeting feeling in her stomach, quickly turning her mind away from job prospects and towards bikinis. She waved a couple at Heather.

‘Pink or black?’ she asked.

‘Isn’t the answer usually both with you?’ Heather held a frilled floral one-piece against herself. ‘What do you think about this?’

‘Hideous, you’ll look like Auntie Mabel. And yes, it used to be both, but I’m, you know, on a budget.’