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‘No!’
A wave of panic crashed through her chest, followed by astonishment as she watched Christos kick off his shoes and launch himself into the water, scoop up her floating handbag, and toss it onto the deck. She hurried to the side of the boat to offer her hand to haul him back on board, but to her horror, as soon as his fingers gripped hold of hers, she found herself following him into the surprisingly warm – and thankfully shallow – Aegean Sea.
‘Oh my God! I can’t believe you just did that!’
She spluttered, her heart pounding out a cacophony of alarm, until she felt the pebbles beneath her toes, and the gentle embrace of the cool water that wrapped its waves around her body like a pashmina of the smoothest silk. When she looked across at Christos, she saw the glint of mischief in his dark brown eyes and despite the unorthodox end to their “sunset cruise”, she had to laugh.
‘Do you do that to all your clients?’
‘Only the really special ones.’
This time, when Christos offered her his hand, he gently laced his fingers through hers and together they waded out of the sea, through the shallows, and onto the beach, her cheeks filling with heat when she heard a smattering of applause from the tables of one of the seafront restaurants who had been watching the impromptu seaside show with obvious delight.
And yet, it was the perfect way to round off what had been one of the most amazing evenings of her life when, just for an hour or two, she had forgotten about the trauma of her past and had simply enjoyed living in the moment.
Chapter Ten
To Suzie’s surprise, when she arrived for her shift at the gallery the following day, Katerina was already there. But she wasn’t alone. She was conversing in high-speed Greek with a woman who looked as though she’d just stepped from an Athens catwalk. Not only was she wearing the most exquisitely cut designer suit in a rich emerald colour, but her caramel hair was also salon-fresh, her manicure pristine and her chunky gold necklace told Suzie that she had excellent taste in jewellery, not to mention a healthy bank balance.
However, Katerina could certainly match her in the sartorial stakes, having chosen a short black skirt with a double ruffle around the hemline, which she’d paired with a silk blouse and towering heels. The client was clearly excited about the large canvas that was currently being displayed on a wooden easel in the middle of the gallery – a vibrant oil painting featuring the view out to sea from the edge of the caldera – and if it hadn’t been for the random hillocks of tissue paper dotted around the room and the rolls of discarded corrugated cardboard piled up behind the desk, they could have been discussing inspiration and technique in a high-end gallery in Manhattan or London.
Not wanting to interrupt the wheels of commerce – which would hopefully result in a lucrative sale – Suzie decided it was her turn to collect that morning’s caffeine fix fromTaverna Giorgos. She managed to catch Katerina’s eye and mime the universally recognised gesture for coffee before heading out of the front door, allowing herself a satisfied smile when she saw the gallery’s new sign glinting in the sunshine.
It was still early, so instead of heading straight to the taverna, she took a detour along the footpath that hugged Oia’s clifftop, pausing at a popular viewpoint to stare slack-jawed at the panorama spread out in front of her. No wonder Katerina produced such stunning artwork. There was no shortage of subject matter to choose from: the hotch-potch of sugar-cube houses, the profusion of pink bougainvillea, the winding cobbled streets and soaring archways, not to mention the rich turquoise of the sea and the translucent sky overhead. The only thing that spoiled the view was the colossus cruise ship currently at anchor in the middle of the lagoon; a veritable whale overshadowing the shoals of tenders and yachts that encircled it.
She continued her saunter towards the taverna, taking her time to appreciate the absence of the usual hustle and bustle that the passengers from the cruise ship would bring to the town when the sightseeing coaches started to arrive in the next hour or two, and her thoughts drifted back to the previous night.
For the first time in a long time, she had felt like therealSuzie Sandringham, the one for whom excitement and joyous anticipation was her go-to emotion whenever she was invited to a social gathering, rather than reluctance, suspicion, and, worst of all, fear. She had been on the island for four days and already Santorini was weaving its magic through her veins, and she understood why her sister had chosen to make the island her home. However, as she climbed the wooden steps toTaverna Giorgos, something occurred to her that caused her to pause.
Would Amber come back?
What if she decided to stay in Bali with their mum?
What if—
‘Kalimera, Suzie.’
‘Oh…Kalimera, Giorgos.’
Suzie smiled at the taverna’s eponymous owner, his silver-streaked hair neatly barbered, his impressive moustache twitching upwards as he gifted her with a broad smile of welcome. His white shirt was cracked open at the neck to reveal a glint of gold nestled amongst the wisps of chest hair, and as he guided her towards the veranda, she was gifted with a delicious waft of his woody cologne. Clearly, he was sensible enough to avoid the use of Heidi’s weird concoctions.
‘Take a seat, I’ll be with you in a moment.’
‘Oh no, I was just coming to collect our take-out coffees—’
But Giorgos was already heading towards the kitchen, so she had no choice but to do as he’d requested, choosing a table in the shade of a climbing grapevine and a picturesque view of the adjacent orchard. She couldn’t believe that, if she wanted to, she could just reach out and pluck a lemon, or an orange, or a handful of grapes straight from the tree or the vine. She sat back in her chair and closed her eyes, appreciating the light breeze that lifted her hair from her face to the melodious accompaniment of the cicadas and the staccato whoosh of the coffee machine as Giorgos prepared her coffee.
While she waited, she took the opportunity to glance around the veranda at her fellow early risers. There was a group of cyclists digging into a huge, carb-laden breakfast, a tired-looking couple feeding their toddler with a bowl of yoghurt, and the sandy-haired guy she’d seen on her previous visit to the taverna sitting at the same table, tapping his pen against his lips as he considered what to write next. As was her habit, she noticed he was wearing a child’s plastic watch with a cartoon character on its face, and a silver bracelet from which a tiny book-shaped charm dangled. She wondered if he was an author who had come to Santorini to research his next novel.
To her consternation, the man chose that moment to look up from his notebook and caught her staring at him, so she gave him a smile of acknowledgement, and was surprised to see her friendly gesture wasn’t reciprocated before he resumed his jottings, ignoring the plate of flaky Greek pastries on the table in front of him. When the warm, buttery, honey-flavoured aroma reached Suzie’s nostrils, her stomach growled in envy, and she wished she had ordered a selection from Giorgos to go with her coffee.
‘Onemetrios,’ said Giorgos, setting down her coffee with a flourish.
‘Giorgos, what’s the guy over there with the notebook eating?’
Giorgos glanced across to where the writer was now staring into space, clearly waiting for inspiration to strike. ‘That’s a plate of Stefanos’ special-recipeGalaktoboureko; Greek custard pie with a twist. Want to try a slice?’
‘I’d love to, thank you.’
