Authors: Samantha Tonge
‘You mean freckles? I’ve discovered foundation – and hairbrushes. So, guilty as charged – I’ve grown up.’
Like two teenagers, we giggled.
‘That I see,’ he said, and for some reason the way he stared made my palms feel hot. ‘You happy, no, with your fancy bank job and living with Henrik, in London? In January he told us all about it.’
Gosh, I’d forgotten how intense his gaze was. I’d also forgotten Henrik until just now. But that was normal, right? I’d just blacked out. Ignoring the guilty twinge in my chest, I decided he was no doubt tucked up in the mosquito net, sleeping off several hard months of work and today’s early start.
‘Hmm my colleagues… London… Me and Henrik, it is… very nice.’
Niko burst out laughing. ‘Remember all those summers you taught me English? Rule one was NEVER use the word “nice”. You said it meant nothing at all.’
I bit my lip. ‘Well, my English teacher drilled that into me. He was my idol. I was a bit of a language geek back then.’
‘But still…’ Niko picked up his fork again and toyed with a slice of melt-in-the-mouth aubergine, ignoring the cat’s hopeful stare. ‘You and Henrik… All you can say is it’s
nice
?’
‘Yes – unlike you,’ I replied, in the frostiest voice I could muster.
Sophia glanced over as once more we laughed. She looked from Niko, to me, then back at him and her mouth downturned for a moment. She exchanged a glance with her husband. Sophia’s whole demeanour couldn’t hide a sense of… not exactly disapproval but something negative. Niko seemed to sense it too and jerked his head towards my empty plate.
‘You and me – let’s get some fresh air,’ he said. ‘We take two orange granitas down to the beach. Siesta is almost over, it will be cooler and I know a shady spot.’
‘Under the fig tree, by the disused boatshed, just before Caretta Cove – is it still the same?’
Niko’s face lit up. ‘You remember?’
I went to the bathroom to freshen up and when I returned Niko had prepared the slushy ice drinks. We went outside and I stared at the drinks in sealed paper cups, with straws.
He shrugged. ‘We do takeaway drinks and food now. Times have been hard.’
‘The other half of the taverna is closed down…’
‘Yes. On a good day, we are lucky to fill just the half that is now open.’
I slipped my arm through his, enjoying the breeze which blew stronger. It was as if the last nine years apart hadn’t happened. In fact, I almost expected him to drop a beetle or handful of damp seaweed down my back. I sucked up the refreshing granita as we strolled down the left side of the beach and eventually came to a sprawling fig tree by a dilapidated building. In the distance stood the ash and green southern mountains, all hazy at the top. We sat on the sand underneath the tree. I removed my floppy hat and sunglasses and swatted away a wasp.
‘That was weird,’ I said.
Niko raised an eyebrow.
‘Walking together, with you now taller than me. I couldn’t give you a piggy-back any more.’
‘And look at you, in those fashionable heels.’ He gazed at my feet.
‘I forgot to change into my sandals,’ I said and kicked them off.
Niko took my drink and put the two cups down by his side.
‘I no criticise, Pippa. You are a beautiful woman – more striking than the orange blush of a sunset. But then I always thought you were out of the ordinary. I…’ He shrugged. ‘I never thought I’d see you again.’
For a moment I lost myself in his mocha eyes and swallowed hard. Henrik would never say something like that. I shook myself. And quite right too. It was okay in books, but what modern woman needed to actually hear romantic mush? Yet my heart raced like it never used to years ago, in my Greek friend’s company. What was going on? Clearly the strong Aegean sun had a lot to answer for.
I cleared my throat. ‘So, um, come on then – what’s the punchline?’ I leant back on my elbows.
‘Huh?’
‘The joke… after that compliment.’
Niko’s eyes lost their intensity for a second and he grinned. ‘We used to laugh a lot, no? Okay… Would you feel happier if I said you look very
nice
instead?’
‘Don’t you dare!’ I laughed and turned onto my front. ‘Does Cosmo still play his harmonica?
Niko smiled. ‘All the time.’
‘How about Demetrios? Remember the awful, wonky pots we made – is he married yet?’
‘No. But he adopted four stray cats. How they are spoilt – he made each a food bowl with their name.’
‘And is his shop still the only building in the village that isn’t painted white and blue?’
Niko nodded. ‘Yes, it is still the colour of aubergine, with ivy growing across the roof. Before the recession hit, Demetrios laid fancy tiles on the floor and bought a new kiln… So inside it has changed, but from the outside it still looks about one hundred years old, with the unlevel foundations that make it sink to the right.’
I grinned. ‘It’s good to be back.’
‘How long for?’
‘Three whole weeks.’
‘Ah, yesis good. We can get to know each other again. I have missed you these last summers, Pippa.’
My stomach fluttered. I realised I’d missed him too.
‘You and Henrik…’ He bit his lip. ‘It is true love… forever, no?’
‘Niko!’ I grinned. ‘We haven’t seen each other for so many years and within minutes you cut straight to the chase!’
‘Huh… chase?’ His gaze bore straight through me. ‘We haven’t seen each other for nine years, Pippa. Time isn’t to waste. You are sure he’s good enough?’
I raised one eyebrow. ‘Why would you ask that?’
Niko glanced away. ‘It’s just… Ay, ignore me, Pippa. You are an intelligent woman who wouldn’t waste time on the wrong man.’ He stared at the sand. ‘No one could believe his size, when he visited in January. The village’s children called him Gigantes, after our country’s mythical giant tribe.’ A muscle in his cheek flinched. ‘And the women couldn’t do enough for your Dutch goliath. Young Alysia from next door managed to build up a secret album of photos of Henrik, taken on her mobile phone.’
I gazed sideways at him. ‘So, if we’re being so forthright, what about you? Has Nikolaos Sotiropoulos found the woman of his dreams?’
His cheeks flushed. ‘For a long time I’ve doubted I ever would, but life is full of surprises. Perhaps now…’ He squeezed my hand. ‘Fate has been kind to me.’
My stomach flipped. Surely not…? Could he mean
me
? No. This was Shorty, just a family friend, who used to scare me with grass snakes – at his peril, I might add, as I knew spiders gave him the shakes.
I breathed in and out. Clearly the sun was messing with my brain.
‘So… Taxos… How are you all managing, with the recession?’ I mumbled, not quite sure what to say next.
‘Huh? Oh…’ Niko’s brow wrinkled and he drew circles in the sand with his finger.
‘Not good. I help Papa and Mama where I can, as a chef and waiter. Plus my cousin Stefan and I take out my uncle’s boat every morning to fish – after siesta we sponge-dive. But the locals watch every euro and there are only so many sponges you can sell to the neighbouring villages.’ He too lay on his front, so close it reminded me of when we’d hide, stretched out under tarpaulin, in the bottom of his uncle’s boat, to avoid our parents calling us in for bed.
Niko nodded across the sand. ‘See Mrs Dellis, over there?’
The old lady was easy to pick out as the beach was still empty. Dressed in black, from her scarf to her shoes, she sat in a deckchair, under a large parasol. Two young children built sandcastles at her feet. By the side of them lay two red lilos.
‘I’m surprised to see them out in this midday heat,’ I said.
He shrugged. ‘Two young boys must be hard for her to keep entertained. Their family is typical of many – her son-in-law lost his job as a website designer in Kos town. He’s gone back to farming the little land they have, with his wife, who makes cheese. They trade with farmers in neighbouring villages, try to sell jam and pickles as well, but is hard, especially in winter. More than ever grandparents look after children, whilst both parents work all hours.’
‘How do your uncle and cousin manage – just by fishing?’
‘My cousin and I have more physical strength now, so we’ve taken over. Uncle Christos gets shift- work cleaning, or as security at the airport, when he can.’
My eyes ran over Niko’s solid body. Despite being short as a child, he’d always been strong.
A relaxed silence fell between us as I glanced at houses lining the beach, each blue and white, like the sand, like the sky; each with a boatshed that could have done with a lick of paint. Henrik had been right – the village did look rundown. Henrik. With a sigh I realised it was time to return to the villa. I hadn’t even bought any milk or bread. I glanced up at the tree branches overhanging us. Their big leaves shimmied in the wind. Plump, green figs drooped down, as shapely as any Kardashian bottom, a clear sign they were ripe. Niko followed my gaze, stood up and easily plucked one off.
He lay down next to me again, caught my eye and I nodded. Just like in the old days, he rubbed it against his vest top before taking the first bite. Juice trickled out of the corner of his mouth as he passed me the other half. The cinnamon flesh glistened. I pushed it between my lips. Slowly I chewed, savouring its sweet lushness.
‘I’m glad you haven’t become too posh to eat the skin,’ said Niko and his mouth slanted into a smile.
‘I haven’t changed that much,’ I mumbled, as with his thumb, he gently wiped away juice from my chin. His hand lingered. Our eyes locked. The strangest sensation ran up and down my spine. As his pupils dilated, I wondered if mine were doing the same.
‘You still have those thick eyelashes,’ I murmured.
‘Remember you’d beg me to give you butterfly kisses,’ he said, eyes teasing. ‘You’d say “Niko, lean forward close and bat your eyelashes against mine”. The tickling sensation made your laugh sound like a braying donkey.’
I chuckled.
‘Go on – let’s do it, for… what do you say? For old clock’s sake.’
‘Old
time
’s sake… ‘
His grin widened. ‘Unless… perhaps Pippa Pattinson is boring in her old age?’
I snorted. ‘Fine. Go ahead.’ Our faces neared by a centimetre. Then another. Despite the shade, my body felt as if I were lying on volcanic rock. He pressed right up close, his breath blowing against mine. Our eyelashes touched.
What would happen if my mouth tilted just a few millimetres forwards? It was as if every cell in my body was magnetised to his. Oh God, all I could think of, right at this moment, was him. The memories, history between us, the laughter, silly arguments, the small scar above his lip…
I shut my eyes, to be met with a kaleidoscope of colours, as if magical fairy dust swirled in my head. Wow. What was that? Unable to stop myself, eyes open now, I leant further forward, calling on all my willpower not to press my lips against his – although if I didn’t soon, my insides would surely explode… By now we held each other’s hands. Gently our noses met. It was as if time had stood still to shout “all those moments from your childhood were leading to this”. Was I still out cold from sunstroke? Was this all a dream?
‘Pippa! I thought you were shopping,’ hollered a familiar male voice, from behind. ‘What on earth are you doing?’
No, I was wide awake and with a jolt pulled away.
I swung around and got to my feet. Henrik approached, the wind almost blowing off his cap. He removed it himself to reveal Top Gun sunglasses. Behind him smiled a young Greek woman with a purple flower in her hair.
‘Sorry, Henrik,’ I stuttered, as he reached the fig tree. I brushed sand off my shorts. ‘Georgios and Sophia looked after me, you see, I fainted, then–’
‘I know,’ he said. ‘They assumed you two had gone shopping for the food we need.’ He held out a hand to Niko. ‘Good to see you again, mate. Thanks for looking after Pippa.’
After a momentary pause, Niko held out his hand. I got the feeling Henrik’s “mate” was the last thing he wanted to be.
‘Niko’s granitas are hard to resist,’ said the woman as she eyed the empty cups. ‘
Ya sou
Pippa. I am Leila, pleasure to meet you – I guessed you two had come here to cool off.’
Oh the irony – during those butterfly kisses, I’d never felt so hot.
Deep lines appeared in Henrik’s forehead, as he scanned my face. ‘I should have reminded you to put on sun cream. Why don’t you head back to the villa? I’ll get the groceries in.’
But I couldn’t stop staring at petite Leila. Not remembering her from my childhood, I studied the gathered skirt and blouse, the shiny raven hair draped down one shoulder and the small gold hoop earrings. She had a flavour of the exotic about her and what friendly eyes… Leila came forwards and with a shy expression hugged me tight.
‘Often Georgios, Sophia and Niko have talked about the Pattinson family, since I moved here with my parents six years ago – and Niko’s grandmother, Iris, tells tales of the tasty scones you baked her.’
‘How is Grandma?’ My chest glowed at the thought of Georgios’ mum. I couldn’t wait to see her again. Nine years without her fiery words – but caring heart – had been too long.
By now Niko had sat up, fig juice still at the corner of his mouth, vest top ruffled… His shoulders sagged. ‘Not the best, what with her being ill, the last year.’
Ill? My mouth went dry.
‘Whilst successful…’ his voice wavered, ‘…the treatment has been harsh. We see very small signs of improvement, of her blossoming back into the old Grandma – it is a gradual process, like the growth of oregano, a most slow-developing plant.’ He exchanged a look with Leila. She walked over as he stood up and squeezed his arm.
‘But a visit from you would cheer her up, Pippa,’ said Leila.
I returned her nod, barely able to breathe for a moment. Grandma was strong. It couldn’t be that bad, otherwise the Sotiropoulos family would have surely contacted us back in England.
‘She talks of you often,’ said Niko. ‘I remember how you used to tell her everything.’
‘Yes. Grandma was a great confidante.’ I gave a small smile. Which was true – Mum did her best but her mind often seemed elsewhere (the office, probably), whereas Grandma, who never stopped cooking or cleaning, still had the knack of knowing when to call me in for a fresh pastry and ask what was wrong. Like the summer after I’d fallen out with my best friend, or the year of my OCD phase. Gently she’d asked why I kept disappearing to the bathroom to wash. No one else had noticed. Grandma worked out I was fretting about the approaching autumn school term. I was due a new form tutor with a fearsome reputation. Grandma gave me her own Greek stress beads – but just talking about my worries had helped. And as usual she’d been right – rumours always tainted the truth and the new teacher turned out to be all right.