Game of Scones (5 page)

‘She’ll be okay, I’m sure,’ said Leila, in a voice as gentle as rustling olive tree leaves.

Yes. She was right. No doubt when I visited, Grandma would still be baking and ordering everyone about – and asking me to sing (or at least whistle) her favourite Greek song about a sleeping cuckoo… I nodded at Leila, now unable to take my eyes off the way she easily held onto Niko.

Henrik held out his hand. ‘Come on, Pips. Let’s head to the supermarket. I’m sure Niko and his fiancée would like some time alone, before the sponge-diving boats go out.’ He grinned at Niko. ‘Leila filled me in on your daily routine. It’s clearly not for the faint-hearted.’

My throat constricted and the oddest expression crossed Niko’s face.

Fiancée? Engaged to be married? For some reason, an unpleasant sensation pierced my chest. Wow, what a flirt he’d become, for someone on the verge of exchanging marital vows. Pursing my lips, I stood transfixed to Leila’s right hand and a diamond, obvious now, twinkling in the sunlight. That explained why Sophia had looked uncomfortable, in the taverna, at my easy closeness with her son. My eyes scanned her face, those elegant arms, the tiny waist… What was not to like? No wonder my childhood friend had fallen for her charms. Plus she was softly spoken and had the prettiest smile… I swallowed hard and for the first time in a while, momentarily wished my frame was more petite.

Niko spoke rapidly in Greek to this fiancée for a moment and then cleared his throat.

‘Look, Henrik, I don’t think Pippa’s up to shopping just yet – Leila will take you to the supermarket, yes? We’ll meet you back at my parents’ taverna.’

‘It’s true,’ said Leila, ‘you look a little off-colour, Pippa. It makes me happy to help Henrik. I promised to look after my small cousins today, but not for another hour.’

‘I’m absolutely fine,’ I replied in a bright voice. So, she was kind-hearted as well.

But the happy Greek couple (who me, sarcastic?) were having none of it. Plus Henrik took little persuasion when Leila hinted Georgios might shout him a free beer. Within minutes the two of them were gone. I picked up my hat and sunglasses and turned to go. However, Niko grabbed my hand.

‘Pippa. Look, don’t go, I should have…’

Gently, I pulled away my fingers. ‘Whatever… Your personal life – it’s… it’s nothing to do with me.’ I coughed. ‘Congratulations. She seems lovely. Your parents must be thrilled.’

‘Yes, but… look…before… about the butterfly kisses…’

I forced a laugh. ‘Look at us, trying to relive old times. What are we like? I’m… I’m glad you’ve found someone, like I’ve found Henrik.’

‘About Leila… I was going to tell you, but–’

Urgh, give it up Niko, otherwise… too late. Prepare for an Epic Fail when it came to pretend civility.

‘But what? I saw the way you flirted with those guests back at the taverna. “Ladeez”? I mean,
really
? Then with me on the sand… all those mushy compliments… you never
used
to talk like that.’ I shook my head. ‘You were the last person I expected to turn into one of those bull-shitting Greek waiters determined to charm their way into customers’ good books and wallets.’ Damn my voice for wobbling, but what was he playing at?

He stepped forward, eyes dull. ‘You really think that of me, Pippa?

I bit my lip.

‘The things I said about you… every single one I meant.’

Yeah right – as beautiful as the blush of a sunset? Did I
really
fall for that rubbish? Henrik may not be the most romantic man in the world, but at least he was dead-straight. And for that quality alone, he was worth hanging onto.

‘Oh come on, admit it,’ I said, voice calmer now. ‘You’ve not given me one thought over these years. And I… I’d practically forgotten that annoying boy who used to pinch my sweets and ping the straps of my bikini top. It’s okay. Life moves on.’

‘You’re even more attractive when angry,’ he said and smiled.

I shook my head. ‘You could learn a lot from watching a famous film my mum loves, called Shirley Valentine… You might pick up some tips on how to get into foreign women’s knickers more quickly.’

Cheeks flushed scarlet, he scowled and promptly lifted off his vest top. He threw it on the ground.

‘Oh God, what now… Am I supposed to be impressed?’ I muttered. ‘Honestly, you’re unbelievable.’ Although… wow. Look at those pecs, clearly visible, as he’d not become nearly as hairy as his dad. Niko’s eyes sparked and he pointed to a line of small scars down the right side of his abdomen, an imperfection which contrasted Henrik’s smooth, unmarked chest. Annoyingly I longed to run my fingers – or my tongue (eek, did I really just think that?) across his deliciously firm, caramel skin.

‘You remember, no?’ he demanded.

I stared for a moment, praying for some cold shower to hover over my head, like the snowman’s personal cloud in Frozen. Then it clicked. The jellyfish attack. It had happened during that last summer, when we’d both just turned fourteen. One stung me and I panicked. Swiftly Niko had swum over, through a cluster of them and dragged me out of the water. In the process he got trapped by tentacles and injured ten times worse than I was.

‘I would do it again in a heartbeat. And I’m grateful… This scar is a constant reminder of happy times – of our friendship. And–’

‘Here we go, bullshit again. That’s like the Greek waiter in that film saying he loves Shirley Valentine‘s stretch marks.’

‘Stretch marks?’ He shrugged. ‘I don’t understand the words but get your tone – after all those summers together, now you dove-hole me as some shallow playboy?’

‘It’s
pigeon
-hole,’ I muttered. My stomach twisted. ‘Yes, well, I wouldn’t worry. Clearly Leila thinks you’re fabulous.’

‘
She
is the fabulous one,’ he snapped.

My throat ached as I thought back to her exotic appearance. What did Leila do for a living? Probably something super sexy, such as painting portraits or dancing.

‘Unlike Henrik,’ he continued. ‘You should know that last time he was here–’

A bloodcurdling scream pierced the air and dropping my glasses and hat, I span around. Old Mrs Dellis paced up and down, howling and pointing at the waves. The beach was still empty so I followed her finger and gasped. Mrs Dellis’ two small grandsons balanced precariously on red lilos, far out at sea, wailing almost as loudly as her. Niko ran towards the old woman. I followed his cue. Within a minute we were by her side. He spoke rapidly in Greek and in between more howls she responded.

‘
Na para I eychi
!’ muttered Niko (“damn” to you and me) and in a flash slipped out of his sandals and jeans.

‘Exhausted Mrs Dellis fell asleep,’ he barked. ‘Those kids snuck off with their inflatables, even though they are not allowed in the water on their own. This wind must have blown them out towards a current. Neither is good swimmer. If one of them falls off…’

We exchanged a brief look before Niko charged into the waves.

Two hysterical kids and one adult? Nope, that wasn’t going to work. So thanks to the mathematician in me – and to the amazement of a few elderly locals who must have heard the commotion and come down to the beach – I pulled off my blouse and stepped quickly out of my shorts. Thank God I was wearing matching underwear and had recently waxed. Blocking out thoughts of jellyfish, I ran across the sand, to make up the numbers, flinching as one foot landed on something sharp before I hit the warm waves.

Trouble was, that wind seemed twice as strong in the water, which increased the height of the waves – for every half-metre forward, I had to navigate a half-metre into the air.

Bobbing up and down, I got flashes of the children’s faces scrunched up, lilos colliding. As saltwater filled my mouth, I suffered a coughing fit and Niko turned around.

‘Pippa? You crazee woman! Go back!’ he hollered.

‘Not likely. You’ll need help,’ I shouted. A scream cut through the air from the beach. I stared at the lilos. One of the children had fallen off – the eldest, by the looks of it.

‘Theo!’ shouted Niko, before disappearing from view himself. I also dived under the water. Just a few more metres and I’d be at the inflatables. Hundreds of white bubbles blocked my vision, but eventually I could just make out Niko’s muscular legs and the black curly head of a child. He dragged the boy up to the surface and we all came up for air.

Spluttering, I glanced again at the lilos, whilst Niko tried to calm down Theo. Nausea backed up my throat. Both were empty, now. The youngest must have fallen in too. Oh
skata
(rude word, you can guess which one).

I took a deep breath and dived again, leaving Niko to deal with Theo, who kept gagging and flapping his hands. Frantically I paddled my legs, arms tearing through the relentless current. Within seconds I was under the red plastic rectangles, exhausted, despite having only progressed a couple of metres. A clump of seaweed floated past and my eyes stung as I forced them to focus towards the inky black depths. With brilliant timing I recalled the film Jaws. Were great white sharks common in the Aegean?

With all my might I pushed myself further downwards. Now all I could think about what how much I needed oxygen. Luxurious, fragrant Greek cedar air, wafting into my lungs… My chest burnt as something grabbed my leg. I pirouetted around, throat aching as I ran out of breath. Little fingers reached up. In one swift movement I ducked and put my hands beneath the boy’s armpits. Legs kicking wildly, I propelled us to the surface.

‘Pippa…’ Niko’s voice broke as my head shot above the water’s surface. Theo was back on one of the lilos.

‘Help!’ I yelled, my open mouth taking in more briny liquid. Somehow we dragged Theo’s brother onto the other lilo and turned him onto his side. The little boy suffered a violent coughing fit. Water and saliva spewed out of his mouth. He gagged several times and burst into tears. The knots in my stomach unfurled as crying probably meant he was all right.

Niko ordered the children to lie on their fronts, on the lilos, and hold tight.

By this time a group of fishermen had sailed out, towards us. Thank God. My whole body felt as heavy as the anchor I spotted on the boat’s side. After what seemed like five hours, not five minutes, they arrived, first hauling the boys to safety. Niko insisted I went next. He followed, panting for breath, and the four of us crouched on the wooden seats, me in between the two boys.

A young fisherman, in a checked shirt, altered the angle of the sail, whilst his grey-bearded man companion wrapped the boys in towels and passed me a spare one. He avoided my eye. Ah yes. Of course. Just remembered my outfit consisted of one lacy bra and high-leg knickers. I wrapped the towel around my body, sarong-style, and wiped my mouth. Urgh. I hated that salty taste, and was that a slimy lace of seaweed down my back? My hair hung in rats’ tails, the tight bobble lost, as I slipped my arms around the children and cuddled them tight. My cheeks pricked and tingled like only fair skin does under the sun. Niko spoke to the crew, a couple of whom had clapped him on the shoulder.

Whilst the boat swayed from side to side, I spotted two adults with Mrs Dellis, on the beach. All three waved madly. As we neared I could see their tear-stained faces. The young couple must have been the boys’ parents. A bigger crowd had assembled near the old jetty. As the boat hit the sand, the boys’ mum and dad rushed forward, wading into the water. Old Mrs Dellis was still wailing and wringing her bony hands.

‘
Efharisto
,
efharisto
,’ the boys’ family kept saying to me and Niko. In turn, we thanked the fishermen.

A while later, Niko gave me a wry smile. ‘So here we are again,’ he muttered.

Having escaped the congratulations of the crowd and beady eye of the local doctor, we stood under the fig tree, me back in my shorts and blouse. I picked up my hat and glasses. He leant forward and ran a thumb over my cheeks.

‘They’ll be painful later. Grandma swears that yogurt helps sunburn.’

I shrugged and turned to go, like I had a couple of hours before.

‘Pippa… No leave it like this…’ He held out a hand. ‘How you see me… it is not true. I’m no playboy. It’s just… I’m so pleased to see you again. Stay a while. Tell me about your life. Let’s catch up on the time we’ve been apart.’

I fought the urge to slip my hand into his.

‘Look, it’s great to see you too,’ I said, now over the shock of the change in him. Almost losing those boys gave a bit of perspective. ‘But I’m a Londoner now – part of the rat-race. An office worker. A suit wearer. Whereas you…’ I gazed around at the island… the lapping waves… the squawking seagulls… ‘We couldn’t be more different. And I’m here to spend time with Henrik. I mean, you are happy with Leila, right? Committed to spending the rest of your days with her?’

‘Of course,’ said Niko quickly and for some reason averted his eyes.

‘Just like I am committed to honest, caring Henrik,’ I continued, shifting uncomfortably. Well, I hadn’t made my mind up yet.

‘Henrik? Honest? Pah, I can keep quiet no longer.’ He sneered. ‘This Dutch giant is up to something. Back in January he kept meeting Stavros Lakis, our local mayor. He is a sly figure, well-known for zooming around in his new white Range Rover, smoking fancy cigars and tricking people out of money. Wake up, Pippa, your tall, handsome boyfriend whose charm is legendary, is in fact a scoundrel, making some deal with the most corrupt man on the whole of Kos island…’

Chapter Five

I wrapped my arms around Niko’s neck. My fingers played with his curls. The teasing mouth quirked into a smile and like a mirror reflection, I’m guessing my lips quirked back. I couldn’t be more grateful to him, for pointing out the dark ways of clearly unwholesome Henrik. I mean, fancy him speaking to the dodgy town mayor. Without hesitation, I stripped off and lay down on a carpet of fallen fig leaves. Holding my hand up, I muttered ‘Ravish me, my little sea urchin… let your feelers do their work…’

Hmm. As if that was going to happen – me play right into that gigolo’s hands? Yes, “gigolo” – all civility had left me the moment he insulted my boyfriend. I’d snorted in Niko’s face and flounced off, dignity lacking due to my high heels wobbling in the sand. It was laughable. Henrik talking to an underhand mayor meant nothing, because as everyone else on this planet knew, corruption throughout the Greek establishment was rife. In fact it would be more suspicious if Henrik had talked to an official whose reputation was still intact.