Game of Scones (7 page)

I spied Sophia’s famous spinach pie – in other words, comfort food at its best. My last holiday there, I’d been fretting about whether I’d chosen the right options for GCSE. Niko had fetched me a slice of this
Spanakopita
and sat with me, next to our favourite rock in Caretta Cove, whilst I’d relished every mouthful. A lump rose in my throat as I recalled him declaring the wrong choices would be just a small blip that would never hold back a girl like Pippa Pattinson.

Niko circled the room, kissing several women, family and friends…What had happened over the years to make him value an engagement so little – and to spurt out spiteful suspicions about people he hardly knew?

‘Demetrios!’ I said as the handsome potter came over and kissed me on either cheek. He stood back and grinned. I’d forgotten how he always wore a colourful cravat.

‘
Ya sou
, Pippa. So, where are your muddy jeans and bare feet now?’

I grinned. ‘Remember that vase I made? The hole at the top was so small all I could do was push in one stalk.’

Demetrios chuckled. ‘Happy memories – you must come over before you leave. I make you a special vase to take back.’

‘
Ya sou
, Pippa!’ Pandora the baker came over and warmth radiated through me at the sight of her in catwalk tailored white trousers and a terracotta blouse. She hadn’t changed a jot, apart from a few grey hairs in her stylish short cut and deep shadows under those ebony eyes. Plus now she wore black-rimmed glasses. I glanced at her perfectly varnished nails and… wedding finger. So she hadn’t remarried. Pandora had lost her husband about ten years ago – flames had cornered him whilst he helped control a forest fire, in a neighbouring village.

We hugged. ‘I’ve brought cake tonight, Pippa, and trust you still like it as much?’

I patted my stomach. ‘All these years, I’ve never eaten a sponge cake as good as yours, back in England.’

Pandora’s skin flushed and she gave me another hug. Then she stood back. ‘You’ve grown into a lovely young woman – and have important job in London, no?’

‘It’s no more important than baking heavenly food to earn a living – I can’t wait to fill my plate from the buffet table.’

Pandora’s cheeks flushed darker as Mr Dellis clapped his hands and a hush fell.

‘Now that Niko and Miss Pat– I mean Pippa, are here…’ he lifted up Theo, ‘… My sons talk of superheroes – Spiderman, Captain America. But they are fiction. In this room we have two real heroes, both bigger than The Hulk…’

Er. Okay. I think that was meant as a compliment.

‘… who saved my boys from…’ His voice trembled. ‘Please, with your hands, thank them.’

As the room shook with claps and cheers, I glanced across the room at Niko and swallowed. Those deep mocha eyes met mine, a crease between the brows. It was as if time had rewound about ten years, to the day we alerted the neighbouring village to the forest fire that claimed Pandora’s husband. After unsuccessfully trying to extinguish it with buckets of sand, we’d got back on our bikes and raised the alarm. Like many inhabitants of a small island, Taxos villagers were at the mercy of the elements. Some had called us heroes back then but we never felt it, because the fire’s consequences had still been tragic, with the one death and several injured.

I looked back at Theo’s parents and blinked hard. The little boy’s mum had tears in her eyes.

‘To celebrate their bravery, now we eat,’ she said in a loud voice and opened her arms – cue another round of heartfelt hugs. Cosmo from the cycle shop pushed a shot of ouzo into my hand and squeezed my shoulder. I knocked it back before the catchy string music became louder and Cosmo took out his harmonica. Fashionable Pandora headed over with questions about where I’d bought my matching underwear, worn during the rescue. We chuckled that word about its stylishness had spread. On my return to England, I promised to send her some from M&S. Leila passed me a plate and Henrik slipped an arm around me as we headed towards the buffet table.

‘Mmm. This spinach pie is still the best, Sophia,’ I said, an hour or so later, after many conversations in Greeklish about where I learned to swim and my irrational fear of sharks. The combination of flavours and moistness made it a top quiche. The two of us sat at a table, whilst our men discussed the state of the Greek football team. Thanks to dating Henrik I now knew what constituted a good goal, although still faltered if asked to explain the offside rule.

‘It was your favourite as a child,
Pippitsa
.’ Sophia smiled before taking another bite. We both swayed from side-to-side, unable to sit still as Cosmo played a harmonica solo. ‘Of course, you enjoy fancier food in London, no?’ She eyed me up and down. ‘I hope you eat enough, with your busy job.’

I squeezed her arm. ‘It’s a good thing I don’t live with you, otherwise I’d be curvier than the most revered Ancient Greek goddess. In fact, this
is
the food of the gods.’

Sophia’s heart-shaped face beamed. ‘How kind – and you loved Grandma’s puddings…’ She stared at my cheeks. ‘She would rub yogurt into that sunburnt skin.’

‘Niko said the same,’ I replied and chuckled. But just like in the taverna on Saturday, when I’d laughed with her son, a strange expression crossed Sophia’s face.

‘He… Leila… they seem like a well-matched couple.’ I said and put down my fork. ‘Have they been engaged long?’

‘Over one year now. They told us just before Grandma fell ill.’

‘Could I see her, tonight? Or is it too late? Will she be tired?’

‘Of course. She is impatient to see
Pippitsa
too.’ Sophia grinned. ‘Did you bring scones?’

I nodded and stood up, my stomach twisting a little. How much would feisty Grandma have changed?

After fetching the basket from the buffet table, I followed Sophia up rickety stairs, just behind the bar. We came to a small kitchenette for the family and three bedrooms. The door around to the right belonged to Niko. I recalled the secret childhood tank containing two lizards, its floor lined with bark, plus a big piece of driftwood and bowl of water. A sign on his bedroom door had banned adults from entering his “private space”. Sophia must have gone in now and again to change the bed and no doubt turned a blind eye to the lizards, as long as they were happy and well-fed.

We stopped by the door to the left of the tidy kitchenette and gently, Sophia knocked.

‘I think your visit will do her good,’ she murmured. Without waiting for an answer, Sophia opened the door and popped her head around to mumble something in Greek. I heard my name then the reply of a croaky female voice. Sophia straightened up and gave me a nod. I went in on my own and heard Niko’s mum close the door before going back downstairs.

What a lovely room, with the simple whitewashed walls, quilted bedcover and colourful ceramic bowls. And what was that distinct grape-like smell? Of course, Grandma’s signature perfume, made from irises, her namesake. Nostalgia wafted over me as I breathed in the floral aroma. Once again, I marvelled how some things never changed. Although, through the dim lamplight… I could avoid it no longer… I focussed on the wizened body of an elderly woman I hardly recognised. My throat ached. Gone were the full cheeks. Yet she still had those fiery cinnamon eyes that would glint when Niko and I got into trouble – and glow when I made her fresh scones or told a joke.

An arm that looked thin, despite the billowing blue nightie, stretched out. I hurried forward to grip her hand, blinking hard, forcing my mouth to upturn.

‘Pippa! My little peach! You came!’ Her eyes lit up. Eventually she let go and patted the bed as she pushed herself more upright. I sat down on the mosaic patterned red and brown bed quilt and put the basket on my lap. She gave a gap-toothed smile. ‘You bring gifts?’

I parted the tea-towel and lifted out one of the scones. She took it and inhaled. ‘Mmm, chocolate and…’

‘Fresh apricots,’ I said.

She handed it back. ‘Tomorrow I shall breakfast like a king.
Efharisto
, dear Pippa. Now, hug old Grandma. Speak of your young man. Last winter I was too ill to meet him.’ Her eyes twinkled. ‘But I spotted on him out of my window, one day. He is like a very tall, very blonde Cary Grant – the movie star of my day…’

‘Spying on young men? Grandma! You shock me!’

She smiled and for one nanosecond looked about sixteen. I willed my chin not to wobble at the wispiness of her hair and those hollow cheeks.

‘… and so, that’s how I met Henrik,’ I said, about twenty minutes later, my fingers still holding hers tight.

Those cinnamon eyes studied me. ‘He makes you happy, child?’

‘Yes,’ I said brightly. ‘But, um, enough about me – I hear there is to be a wedding. Isn’t Leila lovely?’

Grandma’s face broke into another smile, reminiscent of the dancing grey-haired woman who’d taught me how to make honey soaked doughnuts, the last summer I visited Taxos. ‘Leila’s family comes from my childhood village. Her grandmother and I were school friends. It is a perfect match. Their children will be much loved on both sides. Their union, it…’ Her voice quietened. ‘Without it, I don’t know how I would have kept going, this year. So much has gone wrong… my health… poor business… Here in Taxos – in Greece. We see hard times. A wedding …’ She tried to suppress a yawn. ‘The joining of two families… is like a rainbow casting beauty across a stormy sky.’

I nodded. ‘And… how are you doing?’

‘Better than I expected, one year on – although I feel like such a burden to the family.’

‘Pah – nonsense! They love you to bits and wouldn’t begrudge a minute looking after you…’

She fingered the quilt cover. ‘It’s not just that – not all healthcare is free since things got bad in Greece. The taverna has money problems enough without Georgios and Sophia having to find extra to pay my bills. But enough about me,’ she said, eyelids heavy now. ‘You… you and Niko still get on well? Has time changed your friendship?’

‘You are, um tired now,’ I mumbled. ‘I’ll come back again to talk – and perhaps bake more scones.’

‘Pippa? You are hiding something, no?’

‘Grandma!’ I said and forced a grin. ‘You don’t change, seeing intrigue where there is none!’

A small chuckle escaped her lips. ‘I can tell it going to do me good to have you here. Everyone else treats me like a dandelion seed head that could be destroyed by just one puff of air. I am so glad you visit our island again. Always… you gave me… joy. Even the times when your cheeky face meant you and Niko had been bad.’ Her lips twitched and I knew she was laughing inside.

Now that we were silent, chatter and music trickled up from the party below. I brushed strands of hair from her face, and hummed her favourite sleeping cuckoo song. The lines on her forehead smoothed out and her breathing became more even. Having neatened the bedclothes, I kissed her forehead, the scent of her grape-like perfume becoming stronger as I leant forward. After tip-toeing out of the room, I closed the squeaky wooden door behind me and my face crumpled for a moment. I hardly noticed someone come out of the kitchenette.

‘Pippa? What you do up here? All okay?’

I looked up to see Niko wrapping a plaster around his finger. He shrugged. ‘I was a little enthusiastic with the cheese knife.’

Heart pounding now, I followed him back into the kitchen and stared as he put away the first aid box. I struggled to control a balloon of anger inside my chest that was threatening to burst but oops – Epic Failure.

‘You should have written or phone-called,’ I hissed.

Brow furrowed, Niko closed the cupboard and turned around. ‘Huh?’

‘Grandma. She’s so… Things must have been… Why didn’t you tell me? Do all those years of friendship with my family count for nothing? I mean, I know I’ve lost touch a bit, but Mum and Dad still–’

‘Whoa, wait a minute – Henrik was here in January. He must have said something.’

‘Yes, well, Henrik was only here briefly and probably didn’t even see her and–’

‘Look, Pippa, she wasn’t diagnosed until after your parents left last summer and it… is hard thing to write in a Christmas card. And what would you have done? Left your busy London life? We haven’t seen you for nine years.’

I opened my mouth.

‘Pippa – that’s no criticism… We’re all busy. Lives change. You and me, we stopped writing to each other a long time ago. And I’m not much interested in the internet – that Facebook thing – when I could be outside in the sun.’ He lifted his hands in the air. ‘Sorry, okay. Perhaps I should have thought – made sure. Although…’ He screwed up his forehead. ‘Wait a minute… Mama mentioned it in a card to your mum for her birthday in March, no?’

I swallowed and thought hard for a second. March – when I’d been cramming for exams at work. I held my basket tighter. Thinking back now I recalled a telephone call – Mum saying something about Sophia being worried about Grandma. But… okay, I admit it, sometimes my mind wandered when on the phone. This year I’d been so wrapped up in my new job, my career, it was hard to switch off.

How could I have not been shaken out of my thoughts though, at the mention of the Big C? Had I really become so absorbed in stuff that – in comparison to this – didn’t really matter, like projected profits, sales targets and staff expenditure?

Niko came towards me but I backed away.

‘Okay.’ My voice wobbled. ‘Maybe I got it wrong. It’s just… I hate seeing her like this. Sorry.’ I sniffed, dying to ask if his family needed help paying Grandma’s health bills.

‘No need for sorry,’ he said and gave a small smile. ‘Although… If you want to make it up to me, just listen for two minutes to something I want to say about Henrik.’

I gasped. ‘You don’t know when to give up, do you?’ After plonking the basket on the table, I swung around and headed for the stairs. Quickly I went down into the restaurant, cheerful voices blurred, due to loud music. Henrik, laughing with Georgios, caught my eye and winked. Sophia and old Mrs Dellis ate baklavas oozing with honey. Leila sat on the floor, next to a pile of Nintendos – clearly confiscated – and with a group of children played a board game. Slowly my chest stopped heaving and I glanced out towards the patio, where Georgios was doing the Greek circle dance with guests.