Those Summer Nights (Corfu, Greek Island Romance) (10 page)

P
anos couldn’t fault
his grandmother’s cooking but he wished she hadn’t invited Roger and Ann. From what he remembered, they were British ex-pats who had lived in Agios Martinos for what must be five years now. He had only met them once and that had been enough. He was certain he had heard the exact same speedboat stories the last time he’d dined with them. He refilled his glass with wine and took a healthy swig. His eyes found Risto. He was concerned about his cousin, who had hardly eaten any food and was drinking far too much. Now he looked like he could hardly keep his eyes open. Was it wrong of him to make him be his eyes and ears in the restaurant with Harry and Imogen?

‘Risto!’ he called. He watched his cousin rock in his seat and force his eyes wider open. ‘Could you get some more wine from the cellar?’

‘Pfft!’ Elpida interrupted. ‘There is no need for you to go to the cellar, Risto. There is more wine in the kitchen,’

‘More for me!’ Cooky piped up. ‘And Imogen’s glass is almost empty. How about you, Ann?’

The mouse-like Englishwoman held her glass up and nodded, pushing her round glasses up her nose.

‘I never say no,’ Roger piped up.

Risto stood up, holding onto Harry’s chair to retain his balance. ‘I will bring some more.’

Panos got to his feet. ‘I think I will help him.’ He nodded at the guests. ‘Excuse me.’

As soon as they were out of sight Panos grabbed him by the shirt sleeve. ‘What is wrong with you? You barely eat, you drink too much.’ He narrowed his eyes at him. ‘You have an alcohol problem? Is that why you have not found work?’

‘No!’ Risto exclaimed, shaking his head.

‘Then what?’

‘I do not like what I have to do today,’ he admitted. ‘I find it hard.’

‘What? Clearing up in the restaurant?’

‘No! You know!’ Risto said, eyes wide.

Panos sucked in a breath before responding. ‘We cannot speak about this here.’ He looked back at the table of guests to ensure they were fully engaged.

‘They are nice people,’ Risto said, dropping his eyes to the ground. ‘I like them and
yiayia
likes them. I start to feel bad. If
yiayia
finds out…’

Panos shook his head and sunk his hands into the pockets of his trousers. ‘I think
yiayia
would be more concerned about your drinking right now.’

He looked at Risto, seeing the boy he had shared his childhood with. All his cousin wanted was a job and he had given him something that challenged his Corfiot amiable nature.

‘Risto,’ he continued. ‘Do you want to help me in my business?’

‘Yes, of course, Pano.’

‘Then please, Risto, keep your drinking under control and help me with this.’ His mind drifted to the Asp deal. That was an exception. One blip. He had Tomas’ Taverna now and he would have more.

‘What I propose for the restaurant is going to give you and the residents of Acharavi something to celebrate. You want this, don’t you?’ Panos continued. ‘More villagers with work. More tourists coming to the island?’

‘Of course.’

‘Then where is the problem?’ Panos turned to look at his dining companions. He would make his second offer tonight and he had little doubt he’d be holding the keys to the restaurant by tomorrow afternoon.

I
mogen took
another mouthful of wine and enjoyed its warmth. It was idyllic here in Elpida’s garden, the lights in the trees and the candles on the table providing a soft glow, listening to the cicadas’ song, Roger’s stories of the sea – OK they were a little boring – Cooky’s loud laugh and Elpida’s playful banter with her friend. Her eyes went to Harry. He hadn’t stopped smiling all night and had shared conversation with everyone at the table. Like the old Harry.

She put down her glass and reached for her napkin to wipe her lips. A fig tart with vanilla cream had just about finished her off and now her stomach was full to bursting. There was no doubt Elpida was an amazing cook. The stronger flavours hadn’t overpowered the subtle, everything had complemented each other, each dish offering something a little different for the palate. If she could become half as good for Harry she’d be pleased. She stopped her thinking. Did that mean she was really doing this? Really going to help her brother open the restaurant?

‘So, Imogen,’ Roger began, unfastening a button at the top of his collar, his round face as burgundy as the wine he was drinking. ‘Owning a restaurant, eh? Is that a long held dream?’

She hesitated, shielding her lips with a napkin.

‘Shall I answer this one, Immy?’ Harry chipped in. ‘It’s actually
my
dream.’ He beamed, sitting forward a little in his chair. ‘Quite a new dream if I’m honest.’

‘You visited Corfu and fell in love with it, like all people from UK,’ Cooky said, swigging back her drink, putting the glass down and pulling at the neckline of her dress.

‘That’s what Ann and I did,’ Roger said.

‘Actually, I haven’t visited Corfu for quite a while. But I did have some amazing holidays here. But it’s Imogen’s first visit to the island,’ Harry informed them.

‘You’ve never been here before,’ Ann said, shocked. ‘And you’ve bought a restaurant?’

‘Well,
I
haven’t bought it,’ she clarified. ‘Harry has.’

‘I did a lot of research on the internet and the estate agent was ever so helpful.’

Imogen’s attention went to Panos, who was making his way across the decking holding a bottle of wine in each hand. The man was an archetypal Greek god. He strode, head held high, a dark wave of hair curling slightly over tanned skin. She watched him as he approached.

His shoulder brushed hers as he sat and he spoke low. ‘You enjoyed your dessert?’

‘Yes, it was lovely.’

‘You are OK?’ he asked, his eyes meeting hers.

There was that deliciously warm sensation again overriding the dance of the figs. Perhaps she should run with it if it stopped her being sick.

She nodded again. ‘Yes, I’m fine,’ she replied, blushing faintly.

‘You have not told your brother about my offer,’ he stated simply.

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

Those eyes were burning into hers, making her heart speed up. What did she say? That she’d seen today how happy the restaurant was making her brother and her earlier reservations had been somewhat relieved? That she wanted to try and make the project work?

‘Because I haven’t seen him this happy in years,’ she answered truthfully.

‘Imogen,’ Elpida called.

Quickly she turned her attention away from Panos.

‘You and your Harry are going to open the restaurant next week!’ She cleared her throat. ‘We need to toast this! To…’ Elpida paused, her hand still held high. ‘What is going to be the name?’

‘Well,’ Harry began. ‘What do you think of… Halloumi?’

Imogen balked. What?! The figs were now eating their way through her stomach lining and keeping a controlled smile on her face was taking every scrap of energy she had. After all this talk of Greeklish food, chips and
taramasalata
he was going to name his dream restaurant after a cheese. She wished he’d mentioned it to her first. She could have told him what a mad idea it was. She forced a smile.

‘I thought it sounded welcoming. It’s foody and Greeky and it has the letters of mine and Immy’s names in,’ Harry concluded.

Elpida shot out of her seat, the chair scraping across the cobbles. ‘I think it’s wonderful! Absolutely wonderful!’ She cleared her throat loudly, her eyes roaming over her guests. ‘To Halloumi!’ she toasted.

Imogen watched everyone looking at each other, as if wondering what to do, but seemingly knowing there was only one thing they
could
do. She was juggling the words in her throat, each syllable scratching its way out. ‘To Halloumi,’ she croaked. Then she put the glass down, got up and headed indoors.

I
f Imogen had been
a smoker she would have been lighting up and puffing away by now, but instead she stood outside the front of the house pacing in the dark. The only light came from the moon until she paced too close to a motion sensor and the porch light flicked on. The minute she started to feel confident about things, Harry put a spanner in the works. It was like taking one step forward and two steps back. Harry’s new-found love of life and this project to open the restaurant and get his family back together was admirable and she wanted to be all in, but then he did silly things. He borrowed a fish van and named the place Halloumi. What was she going to tell Grace and Janie when she was wavering so badly? They were relying on her to end this and get Harry’s money back. And the offer was right there in front of her. But…

‘Imogen.’

She knew who was speaking before Panos came into focus.

‘I’m fine,’ she said, quickly smiling. She couldn’t let this man know how desperate she felt. ‘Just need a minute.’

‘You would like a glass of water?’ he offered, stepping close.

‘No, thank you. We should get going soon. It’s been a long day and…’ Her breath was coming thick and fast like an asthmatic about to have an attack.

‘Slowly,’ Panos said softly. ‘Breathe slowly.’

She felt like a prize idiot. She shouldn’t need instructions on how to breathe. She stood still, the air still clogging up her windpipe. She felt Panos put a strong hand on her shoulder and she leant into the touch.

‘You think your brother is crazy,’ he stated. ‘To think he can open the restaurant in a week. To name it after cheese?’

She shook her head. She was not admitting this to anyone who wasn’t immediate family.

‘Remember, Imogen, I can make this go away,’ he whispered.

The statement made her breath catch and her eyes widen. She observed the strong, full-lipped mouth, the firm jaw and the onyx eyes. There was something there, something dancing in the air between them like there had been earlier and yesterday on the beach. He moved his hand from her shoulder and placed it on her waist, drawing her closer.

She met with a solid wall of muscle, the heat from his skin transcending the fabric of her dress. His fingers drew away a section of hair that had escaped from her ponytail, the tips brushing the surface of her cheek.

‘Sell me the restaurant, Imogen,’ he said lightly, lowering his head towards her.

For a moment she didn’t react. The sentence hit her gradually, each word slowly being understood as his face neared hers.

‘I will give you two hundred thousand Euro for the restaurant,’ Panos whispered. She shifted back then, trying to read his expression.

‘You really want the restaurant, don’t you?’ she said.

He nodded. ‘I really want the restaurant.’

‘Why?’ Imogen asked.

P
anos was holding
on to so many emotions and each one was scrabbling up on top of the other like a game of
Jenga
that could topple at any second. He wanted to hand her the cash right now, get his Acharavi project accelerating.

‘Because your family has just sold the restaurant,’ Imogen reminded him. ‘To my brother.’

God, she was attractive. He hadn’t meant to hold her like he had but she’d looked so vulnerable.

‘I know,’ he began. ‘But my grandmother should not have done that.’

He watched her put her hands on her hips and adopt a stance of attack. ‘Why not?’

‘Because it should be mine,’ he admitted bluntly.

‘Well, Harry needs it to save his marriage.’

The two statements hung there together, words confronting each other like they were. Imogen’s clear blue eyes were moist and set defiantly on him. This was all too intense.

‘The offer is two hundred thousand Euro,’ Panos repeated.

She didn’t reply, the only sound Cooky’s faint laughter and the buzz of bugs surrounding the property. Panos held his breath, stomach tight, watching her for any sign of response.

‘Please…’ God, he didn’t want to beg, but this was not going as easily as expected. ‘The offer is a good one. All I ask is that you think of it.’

‘Did you not hear what I said?’ she asked.

‘This is business,’ he replied. ‘It should not be about family relationships.’

She toyed with a strand of her hair. ‘And why is it you want to run a restaurant when you have a million-Euro business elsewhere?’

He couldn’t give her an answer.

She took her hands from her hips and took a step forward. ‘I’m going to forget we had this conversation.’

‘Please,’ he said, his hand grabbing her arm. ‘Please, Imogen, you must… You
will
think about it.’

He knew he had gone too far and removed his hand quickly, watching as her expression hardened.

‘I did think about it – last night and this morning. And then something changed. I saw my brother light up. Every crease and line disappear from his face… because of this restaurant.’ She swallowed. ‘Yes, he might have chosen a ridiculous name for it but he’s fallen for it and I’ll do anything to keep him being this happy.’ She took a breath. ‘I am
fiercely
protective over my family and I don’t appreciate anyone thinking they can tell me what to do.’

He felt like he’d been punched. There was fire in her words and flashes of defiance in her eyes. She may not have wanted this restaurant to begin with, but she wanted it now. She was loyal and she could fight. He had misjudged this. This was not going to be easy. She was anything but a pushover.

‘Please tell Risto his help won’t be required tomorrow.’ She shifted past him. ‘Excuse me, I think it’s time Harry and I went home.’

He sidestepped out of her path and watched her power towards the house, anger obvious in every single step.

‘
C
an’t
you drive a bit faster?’ Imogen asked. She knew the roads were winding but this one looked almost as good as the A36 at home and Harry was barely reaching twenty mph. She just wanted to get back down the mountain.

‘I’m still learning the van technique and what’s the rush?’ he asked. ‘You shouldn’t rush in Greece. It’s against the law I think.’

‘You’re not Greek,’ Imogen reminded him.

‘Not yet,’ Harry said, with a smile.

Imogen let out a breath. This was all Panos. Panos and his bewitching eyes. Panos and his offer to buy the restaurant. She needed to tell Harry.

‘Is it the bites? Aren’t you feeling well?’ Harry asked, crawling around another corner at the speed of an ill slug.

‘Panos Dimitriou wants to buy the restaurant from you.’

There, it was out. If anything, the surprise might kick-start Harry’s driving. She looked out of the window at the undulating mountainside as they navigated their way to lower ground. It was pitch black here, no street lamps, just darkness and the outlines of thick trees, a few pinpricks of light just visible in clusters through the olive groves. She suddenly realised Harry hadn’t said anything and turned towards him. Her brother’s eyes were fixed on the road, his position unmoved, hands still on the large steering wheel.

‘He’s offered two hundred thousand Euro,’ she added, sucking in a breath.

‘I did like what Elpida did with the roast potatoes, didn’t you?’ Harry remarked. ‘Rosemary and garlic, wasn’t it?’

‘Did you hear what I said?’

‘Yes, Panos Dimitriou wants to buy Halloumi from me for two hundred thousand Euro.’

‘When you showed me the property details… well, if someone had offered us a way out then, I would have said give it to them,’ Imogen stated. ‘I would have said take the money and run and you could have… bought a boat… two boats… in England… or anywhere.’

She pulled her yellow handbag to her body and took comfort in it like it was a favourite cushion. Harry was quiet again and all she could hear was the engine of the van and the soft tone of a
bouzouki
coming from the radio.

‘And that’s what Mum and Janie want me to do. Get you to sell the restaurant on and go back home.’

‘Is that what you said to Panos?’ Harry asked, eyes still on the road as they rounded another corner.

‘Of course it wasn’t what I said to him!’

‘Well, what
did
you say to him?’

‘I said it wasn’t my property to sell, it was yours and I said…’ She paused. ‘I said no one tells me what to do. And I told him I had never seen you so happy,’ she concluded.

Harry laughed. ‘Oh, Immy, I knew this would happen.’

She looked at him, saw the smile still on his face. ‘Knew what would happen?’

‘You’d fall in love with Halloumi.’

She was still struggling to know why her brother had named the restaurant after a cheese.

‘I’m not
in love
with it,’ she said quickly. ‘But I can see how hard you’ve worked to achieve this and what it means to you.’

Harry pulled the van to the kerb outside the restaurant and turned off the engine. He faced Imogen.

‘Immy, I know you weren’t sold on the idea at first but I’m so pleased you’re here with me.’ He sighed. ‘Buying this restaurant, it was about me acknowledging that things were wrong in my life and making steps to make a change. I know the depression isn’t going to completely go away for good. And I’ve come to terms with that. But what I can’t accept is the thought that my life can’t be good again.’

‘No one’s ever said that.’

‘I think it’s why Janie and the children are still living without me and I don’t blame her,’ Harry said. ‘Some days I don’t even like living with me.’

‘Harry…’

‘No, it’s true and that’s OK.’ He nodded. ‘There’s lots of ups and downs. It’s been difficult for all of us.’

Imogen swallowed, trying in vain to hold on to the tears. ‘I know.’

‘So, Immy, when I bought this restaurant it wasn’t a mistake. It was me taking a leap, proving my life’s still my own, investing in my future and my children’s future and achieving something.’ He paused. ‘Not for anyone else, not because I thought it was right… Just because I wanted to make a positive change.’ He cleared his throat. ‘And if Janie sees enough of the man she fell in love with before, well, who knows?’

Imogen nodded as the first tears escaped.

‘But, as much as I love that you’re here, it was wrong of me to expect you to drop everything and come to Corfu with me.’

‘Don’t, Harry,’ Imogen begged, her heart being squeezed by the emotion in the van. ‘I just… this is so alien to me and…’

‘It’s alien to me too.’ He smiled. ‘And I like that. Who would have thought I’d be able to negotiate a deal for tables and chairs in Greek?’

She couldn’t help but smile and reached over to pat his hand.

‘I forced you into it, I know that.’ He swallowed. ‘But this time it wasn’t because I needed your help, Immy. It was because I
wanted
you to share it with me.’

Of course it was. And she had assumed Harry was being needy. What a disloyal sister she was.

‘Hey, don’t cry,’ Harry said, reaching for her hand and squeezing it. ‘I don’t want you to think that I forgot about Mum for a second or Janie and Olivia and Tristan. This is about creating a better life for all of them. Imagine Oliva and Tristan on the beach here,’ Harry said, his eyes shifting to the black of the night, the sparkling lights of Albania across the water. ‘And Mum… once she gets over April passing, I’m hoping she’ll come out here.’

He was right. Completely right. He was striking out and forging ahead, not acting without thinking. It was courageous and admirable.

‘If you want to head back home on the next plane, Immy, I totally understand,’ Harry told her.

She gave him a watery smile and squeezed his hand. ‘I have two weeks if you want it, remember?’ she said. ‘And I am a dab hand with a paintbrush and roller.’ She smiled. ‘And I’m really hoping Elpida can help me master some Greek cooking.’

‘Not Greeklish?’ Harry asked.

‘We can do a lot better than chips and
taramasalata
, Harry.’

‘You know… Panos could have offered me a million Euro for the restaurant… I still wouldn’t have taken it.’

‘I know.’

But she also remembered the fire in the man’s eyes and the heat in her belly. Her body had belied her words. She had wanted to get close to this man whose arrogance oozed from every pore. She shuddered.

‘I’ve fired Risto,’ Imogen stated, pulling at the handle and swinging the van door open. She stepped out onto the road and breathed in the balmy night air.

‘But why?’ Harry slid out of the van too and closed the driver’s door.

‘After Panos Dimitriou’s offer of intention…’ She wet her lips. ‘I just think if we need extra help then we should pay for it.’

‘You’re right,’ Harry agreed. ‘He’s a good worker. I’ll offer to pay him the going rate.’

‘No… I didn’t mean that,’ she said quickly. ‘I just don’t trust Panos,’ Imogen admitted, shivering.

Harry put the key in the door and unlocked it. ‘Well, it’s a shame, because I like Risto.’ He strode into the main room, reaching for the light switch.

Imogen stepped in and her sandals slipped on something on the floor. She regained her balance, looking at the shiny card that had slipped across the tiles. Bending down she plucked it off the floor and looked at it. It was a business card: ‘Dimitriou Enterprises’ and an address in Crete, embossed in gold.

‘What is it?’ Harry asked, leaning closer to get a look.

‘It’s Panos Dimitriou,’ Imogen said. ‘Obviously a reminder of his intention.’

‘Well, a flashy business card doesn’t change anything for me,’ Harry said.

Imogen nodded. ‘No, I know.’ She pocketed the card. Who was the man behind those intense espresso-coloured eyes? She shivered. Only time would tell.