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‘No problem.’ He glanced at all the cases. ‘Clearly you and Leo got on!’
‘He was lovely,’ Mary nodded. She took a deep breath. ‘So, let’s get our stories straight.’
‘Very well,’ Costa said. ‘What should I know about you?’
Mary swallowed. ‘Costa, it’s your family we’re trying to fool. I don’t have one.’
‘I don’t even know where you live,’ he pointed out. ‘Fine.’ He let out a breath when he saw nothing was forthcoming. ‘We’ll just say London, but lately you’ve been spending a lot of time at mine.’
She watched him rack his brains, clearly trying to think what a true partner might already know just to get this settled.
‘Are you gluten-intolerant?’
‘What sort of question is that?’
‘A lot of my dates are, and I’d have to let the kitchen know.’
‘No, I’m not.’ He made her dizzy, both indifferent and ardent, sometimes in the same sentence, at times just with his eyes... ‘Costa, you bought me cake.’
‘So I did.’ He thought again. ‘Any allergies?’
‘None,’ Mary said. ‘Costa, we’re not here to discuss me. I need to know more aboutyou.’
He said nothing.
‘Why don’t we start with Roula?’ she prompted, and then quoted Leo. ‘Or rather, “poor Roula”. I’m guessing she’s the ex.’
‘Leo talks too much.’
‘How long were you together?’
‘We were never together,’ Costa said. ‘We were promised as children. That’s how it works over there...’ He waved in the direction in which they would soon be heading.
‘But you backed out?’ Mary checked.
‘No.’
‘Costa, surely I’d know if I’m about to meet your parents...’ she pointed out.
‘There’s just my mother,’ Costa said. His face was tense, as if he’d realised that she really did need to know more. ‘My father left when she got ill, and my mother ended up selling hot nuts from a caravan to make ends meet. The Kyrios family—Roula’s family—decided I was no longer a suitable prospect.’
‘Because your father left?’ Mary frowned.
‘That, and I guess they thought I might be like him and not a reliable provider...’ He said it so blithely, so carelessly, that Mary was certain there was a whole lot more to it than that. Not that Costa would be sharing it.
‘Roula married Dimitrios, a fisherman.’
‘Oh.’
‘You sound disappointed.’
‘A bit,’ she admitted. ‘I was expecting a spurned lover.’
‘Believe me, there are plenty of them—though not in Anapliró. I steer well away from any liaisons there. It would be the chapel at dawn...’
‘Hence me?’
‘Sort of.’ Costa nodded, and then sighed. Because there was more, Mary was sure.
