Page 9 of The Little Greek Guesthouse

Theo came into the room and she turned to see him standing behind her, rubbing his hands together and grinning like a little boy on Christmas morning. ‘So, what you thinking?’ he asked. ‘Great, yes?’

Nina tried to be angry. She was hot and tired and sorely in need of the luxurious, air-conditioned break she’d been expecting. But the sheer joy on Theo’s face swept all her frustrations away. She laughed. ‘Needs a bit of work, Baba,’ she said, picking at a piece of paint flaking from the wall.

He shrugged. ‘Well yes, of course, it’s why we’re here.’

‘You’re not – I’m not expected to stay here, though? While it’s in this mess?’

He just smiled even harder. ‘Mess? Nonsense. Let me show you.’

She followed him around the house. The other rooms were in a better state, to varying degrees. She couldn’t see sky through the ceiling, at least. There was a huge kitchen, where a large wooden table still stood, a bench seat pressed against the wall and traditional wooden chairs on the other side. A curved fireplace was cut into the wall and old wooden shelves bowed under the weight of dusty plates. Light spilled through the big windows, and the door opened out onto an overgrown courtyard with a spectacular view of the sea.

There was definitely potential, Nina thought, imagining the walls freshly painted and a little row of blue and white tiles.

The house was large, with three more rooms downstairs and two more floors. The stairs were narrow and dirty, and on the top floor, the sun shone through various holes in the roof. Not what Nina had been expecting. But the rooms were large and light, the floors mostly solid, and the views, she had to admit, better than anything she’d dreamed. She couldn’t help but imagine the place clean and freshly painted, the shutters fixed and the rooms filled with tasteful furniture, beautiful rugs and vases of flowers. Perhaps a subtle theme of beautiful Greek blue running throughout, picked out in window frames and stencils on the clean white walls.

A memory flashed through her mind of the treehouse she and Theo had built when she was a child. Nina had thrown herself into the role of builder’s apprentice, showing a flair for DIY as she helped to hammer and saw, sand and varnish. Even at that young age, she’d had a strong taste in décor, choosing a rug and curtains that made the place so cosy and inviting that she suddenly became the most popular child in school.

She shook herself. That wasn’t what she was here for. A few weeks of sun and relaxation while Theo renovated the building, and that was all. She wouldn’t be here to pick out paint or rugs; that would be down to the hotel Theo said was buying the place.

For a moment, she felt a pang of regret. But then she turned back to the view of soft yellow sand and glinting sea; she could almost taste that mojito now.

‘All right,’ she conceded. ‘I can see the potential, but we can’t stay here, Baba. There are holes in the roof!’

Theo shrugged and waved her argument away. ‘Soon have that sorted. And a little sunshine won’t kill us, lovely weather, no rain – it’ll be like camping.’

His smile was so hopeful, he so badly wanted her to be excited too that she didn’t have the heart to argue, and his comment had brought back happy memories of childhood holidays, all three of them snuggled under canvas at night, frying bacon in the open air for breakfast and running around the beach all day. She couldn’t quite match his enthusiasm, though. She sighed. ‘Fine. But there’s no bedding and no food, so we need to get that sorted.’

The food issue was solved by a trip around the village. They stopped first at the café, sitting in the shade. Nina ordered sparkling water and Theo a coffee – how he could drink it in this heat she didn’t know, but then he was a local, she supposed. They ate Greek salad, and she savoured the crisp cucumber and richly flavoured tomatoes, the tang of feta and black olives, all drizzled with a red wine vinegar and oregano dressing. Everything tasted better here, all the ingredients locally produced. The flavour, the sun, the scent of herbs and flowers in the warm air, nudged a memory into her mind; more of a feeling than a specific event. Snatches of childhood holidays – the taste of ice cream, the splash of water on bare feet, the sound of her mum’s laughter.

Nina sat back in the chair and closed her eyes, lifting her sunglasses to feel the heat of the sun on her skin. Her mind felt strangely quiet. Just for this moment, she felt as though there was nothing in the world to worry about.

The café owner, Yiannis, came over, and he and Theo began talking animatedly. Nina sat up and opened her eyes to find Yiannis placing two slices of baklava on the table. He smiled. ‘Free for you.’

‘Oh no, we have to pay,’ Nina said, reaching for her bag.

He wagged a finger at her, grinning. ‘No, this is a gift from me. A celebration, of an old friend come home.’

He and Theo smiled at each other, and he grasped Theo’s shoulder, giving a gentle shake. Theo placed his hand over Yiannis’s.

‘Thank you,’ Nina said. She felt a little choked to see Theo receive such a welcome. He’d never spoken of these people, barely spoke of the place. There was so much she didn’t know.

She eyed the baklava, gleaming in the sun. She hadn’t eaten anything so sinful for months. Apart from the cheese puffs. The pastry looked so light and moist, and her mouth watered at the honey-sweet scent. Without trying to resist, she reached for a slice, savouring the soft, nutty deliciousness of the flavour, quickly polishing off the whole thing.

She looked up to find Theo and Yiannis both smiling at her, as though she was a cute kid who had just sung a nursery rhyme for them. ‘What?’

‘I love to see my customers enjoying my food,’ Yiannis said, grinning. He turned to Theo, who was just swallowing his last mouthful. ‘Just like her mama, eh?’

Nina froze mid-napkin wipe. Had everyone in Metalios met her mum? But Yiannis was gone and Theo already up and walking away before she had the chance to ask.

‘Come on,’ Theo said. ‘I thought you wanted to buy food?’

They visited the market, buying fresh fruit and veg and salad, tea and coffee and milk. Blood orange juice, pomegranate juice. Fresh fish. Thank god the fridge was working, Maria having plugged it in for them the day before they arrived.

She also brought bedding over for them, freshly washed and scented with lavender. It was all they could do to stop her from making the beds.

‘You’ve already done so much,’ Nina said, her arms full with sheets.

‘And not in a fit state,’ Theo said in English, indicating her foot with the boot on.