Page 60 of The Little Greek Guesthouse

‘Bit of warning would’ve been nice,’ Nina snapped. She picked up a biscuit and took a bite, her mouth flooding with the honey and orange flavour.

‘I know. I’m sorry,’ Eirini said softly. ‘I should’ve warned you, but you seemed so happy I – I just didn’t think, really hoped, it wasn’t true.’ She took a sip of her coffee. ‘But – my god, he really took it? I can’t believe it, I’m so sorry.’

‘He gave me a necklace.’

Eirini’s gaze slid towards her. She waited, saying nothing.

‘It’s a little silver chain. It’s really pretty, actually, I loved it but – I saw you looking at it once and you had this weird expression, and now I know what I do, I’m wondering . . . he stole it, didn’t he? Was it yours?’

Eirini swallowed, placing her cup down on the table, shaking her head. ‘I remember seeing you wearing it. It’s not mine. But I was certain I’d seen it before, and – I did wonder.’

‘So, you know who it belongs to?’

‘I think so. There’s a family he did some work for. The woman, she has a necklace exactly like this.’

Nina sighed. ‘Had a necklace like this. Here.’ She reached into her bag and pulled out the silver chain. ‘Can you give it back to her?’

Eirini nodded. ‘I will.’ She took the necklace.

Nina couldn’t help feeling a pang as it glinted in the sunlight, wishing for a moment that everything really had been as good and sweet between her and Vassilis as she’d thought it was when he gave her this gift. Before everything became tainted. And she discovered that, once again, she had been betrayed.

‘That man was never worthy of your time,’ Eirini said softly. ‘Now.’ A great smile flashing across her face as she leaned forward on her elbows across the table. ‘Never mind this. Tell me when you’re seeing George again.’

Nina laughed, smacking her gently on the arm. ‘Stop that.’ It wouldn’t be long, though, she knew that.

She was very keen to go climbing again.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

It turned out to be just a few days until she saw George again.

She was woken a few mornings later by a sharp whistling sound that, in her dream, became the boiling of an old-fashioned kettle, steaming on the stove in the newly renovated kitchen of the house in Metalios. Nina, wearing a floral fifties-style dress and apron, with her hair tied back in a scarf, lifted the kettle to make delicious fresh coffee for the smiling guests who waited for their breakfast.

The kettle continued to whistle and refused to pour when she tipped it. Nina tried again and again, to no avail and to the growing dissatisfaction of her guests, until at last the whistling dragged her from sleep and she realised it was coming from outside.

Blinking her way out of the dream, she staggered over to the window, wondering firstly what on earth could be making such a racket at such an unsociable hour, and secondly why her subconscious had chosen to cast her as some fifties housewife in the dream.

The answer to the first of her ponderings soon became clear, as she yanked the shutters open and glared out of the window to find George standing below, waving and grinning up at her. She decided not to bother thinking about the second, dismissing the image of herself in heels, nail varnish and a frilly apron with a shudder.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ she hissed, pulling down the Fleetwood Mac t-shirt to make sure she was decent. ‘It’s the middle of the night.’

George pushed his glasses up his nose and checked his watch. ‘No it’s not, it’s six fifteen.’

‘Exactly,’ she grumbled, starting to close the shutters. ‘Bugger off.’

‘No, wait – I’m going to swim with the turtles. Thought you might want to come?’

Her first instinct was to ask if he was insane. But she remembered the joy of watching the turtles swimming out with the fishing boats when he’d shown her before.

George waved a flask at her. ‘I brought coffee. Warmed the milk for you, I know that’s how you like it.’

She paused just a moment longer. What the hell. She was awake now anyway. ‘Fine,’ she said. ‘Give me a minute.’

‘Nice t-shirt!’ he called as she slammed the shutters closed.

A few minutes later she was creeping out, closing the door on Theo’s snores that reverberated through the house, awake enough to admire the beauty of the sunrise. The sky was ribboned in colour, palest blue, rose pink, lemon yellow.

‘Wow,’ she breathed.