Those Summer Nights (Corfu, Greek Island Romance) (14 page)

‘
R
isto
, straighten up your collar,’ Elpida hissed.

Panos watched his cousin do as he was told, slipping his fingers beneath the shirt fabric and adjusting it. He didn’t want to be here. Imogen and Harry were coming. Elpida had berated him about the Tomas’ Taverna deal and his plans for Avalon until she had started coughing so much he thought he was going to have to call a doctor. He knew how she felt about his plans. He didn’t want to cause her upset but he needed this. For so many reasons. His step-father John had been in the business news again that day. There was talk of his company buying out StoreCo. If it happened, it would be a big international coup and earlier Panos had found himself churning the information round in his head hoping desperately that the deal wouldn’t come off. It was a large move on John’s part and Panos had first-hand experience of what happened if someone stepped up and onwards too soon.

Elpida turned to face him. ‘You still have some apologising to do.’

He held up his hands in defence. ‘I do not know what you are talking about.’

Elpida narrowed her eyes as they stepped onto the terrace. ‘The restaurant is not for sale. It is sold. Stop trying to buy this!’ She wagged a finger.

He swallowed, trying to maintain a nonchalant expression.

‘Imogen attacked me in the street.’ He followed his cousin and grandmother to a large table at the edge of the terraced area. He had been surprised no one had commented on the smell of paint in the Mercedes. He’d organised a complete valet in an hour but the seats were still a little damp. ‘The woman is crazy,’ he added.

‘Well, all I know is, I tell her what your business is and she comes back looking like an avalanche telling me you have bought Tomas’ Taverna.’ Elpida sighed.

‘You have bought Tomas’?’ Risto exclaimed, eyes bright.

‘I am looking through the paperwork,’ Panos confirmed.

‘I do not know what is wrong with you, Pano.’ Elpida stretched her arm out, highlighting the top-of-the-mountain scene in front of them. ‘Here is home. And business should always come second to home.’

Panos let his eyes stray to the view beyond the terrace. Green firs, carobs and cypress trees stretched out as far as the eye could see, all leading down to the ocean, sparkling with the last few rays of sun. It was a view that caused emotion to flood his gut. This restaurant evoked so many memories for him. His mother and father together, holding hands, laughing, dancing to the traditional band as the sun dropped below the horizon and darkness fell. He had separated himself from all that. Happiness never lasted. It was forced and fickle. It didn’t mean anything. Anyone who thought it did was living in the last century. To succeed you needed only self-belief. Faith was something that no one had in you but you.

He watched his grandmother pull out a wooden chair and sit down, dropping her patent leather handbag onto her knee.

‘In my mind we have some making up to do,’ she said, dropping her handbag to the floor. ‘I sell this restaurant to Harry and it is left like an earthquake has happened. Pfft!’ Elpida rolled her eyes.

Panos beckoned a waiter before sitting down next to his cousin. ‘I thought you were making this right by working there?’

‘Yes,’ Risto said.

‘Then what more making up is there to do?’ Panos asked.

His grandmother pulled her cigarettes from her bag, setting the packet on the table. ‘Did you know that they are sleeping on the floor?’ Elpida said.

‘Their business is none of my business.’

‘No,’ Elpida said. ‘Your business is destroying things.’

‘I am not my father,’ Panos snapped. ‘I am going to succeed where he could not. Why do you not want me to have this success?’

‘Christo failed because he let business eat him up, Pano.’

Elpida’s stare was like a laser slicing through his retinas. He straightened his back, lifting his body a little off the seat and turning to the waiter. ‘Can I see the wine list please?’

‘Pfft,’ Elpida said. ‘We will have a couple of bottles of house red.’ She slipped a cigarette from the packet, put it in her mouth and lit it up.

He wanted to interject and tell his grandmother he didn’t want what they always drank here. He needed to reschedule his meeting with Lafi as Imogen had ruined the last one by dousing him with paint.

‘Ah,’ Elpida said, standing up and resting her cigarette in the ashtray. ‘They are here.’

Panos pretended to study the menu.

‘The house red
is
good here, Pano,’ Risto said, nudging his arm. ‘And
yiayia
says she is paying.’

He ruffled his cousin’s hair good-naturedly. ‘Then we shall all drink as much as we can, no?’

Risto grinned.

I
mogen hadn’t been
able to take her eyes off the view from the second they’d been led out to the terrace. The mountain fell away in a blanket of greenery, every shade imaginable. Dotted throughout the limbs of trees were sparks of colour – vibrant pink, purple and yellow flowers, their petals turned up towards the falling sun. And there, at the bottom of the incline, was the sparkling sea, rolling backwards and forwards in front of the rugged coastline of Albania. Corfu was beginning to cast a magical spell on her. Her hands back in mixing bowls, the sun and sea on her skin, the sweet, humid air…

‘There they are,’ Harry said, nudging Imogen’s elbow.

She looked to the large wooden table at the edge of the balcony. ‘You didn’t say Panos was going to be here. You said Elpida was bringing her recipe book and we were going to try and finalise a menu.’

‘I didn’t know,’ Harry stated. ‘But maybe it’s a good thing.’

She slowed her pace, ducking behind Harry as he navigated his way around terracotta urns spilling begonias and geraniums. She didn’t trust Panos. There would always be that not-so-hidden agenda. And the fact he made her stomach twist with longing despite how inappropriate an object of affection he was.

‘Come on,’ Harry said, linking his arm with hers. ‘You love food like I love food. Let’s go and choose a menu for our restaurant.’

She looked to her brother then, taking in the light in his eyes, the playful smile, his hair springing about like an eager Afghan. She nodded and faced the table. With a metre of solid oak wood between her and Panos she was sure she could talk about
taramasalata
and olives without getting flustered.

I
mogen sipped
the delicious red wine while Elpida waxed lyrical about the benefits of avocado. ‘So good for the skin.’

Imogen smiled. There had never been any need for avocados in the roadside café but she liked them. She’d made stuffed avocados with spicy kidney beans and feta for one of Daniel’s work colleagues and his wife once. That was vaguely Greek. Perhaps she should suggest it.

Elpida flicked over another page of the thick brown leather book on the table in front of her.

‘Fish was always our most popular dish,’ Panos said suddenly.

Elpida raised her head from the dusty book to eye her grandson. Imogen put down her goblet.

‘Was it?’ Harry asked.

‘Yes,’ Imogen joined in. ‘Was it…
really
?’ She couldn’t believe anything he said.

‘You want to know about the local fish?’ He fixed his eyes on her. ‘Well, I can tell you, it is fresh… soft… melt-in-your-mouth flesh that dissolves on your tongue and… it is like you can never have enough.’

As Panos described the food he rolled each and every word with his tongue. She looked away and took hold of her goblet.

‘Panos is right,’ Elpida said. ‘Fish dishes were our best sellers in the restaurant’s finest days.’ She paused, her eyes watching the sun’s silent decline.

Imogen looked too. She had never seen such a perfect sunset. From their position on the side of the mountain the circle of light looked like a giant fiery wheel turning quickly now from a vibrant orange to a deep magenta. Diners began to gather at the metal railings, cameras on video mode, capturing the slow whisper of the sun’s descent as it melted away inch by inch, slipping below the horizon. This was what she had to do for Harry, Janie and the children. Stop their family unit burning out and slipping away.

Tears pricked her eyes and she blinked them away quickly, turning back to the table and her almost empty goblet of wine. Seeing Panos watching her, she willed the emotion away.

‘What a beautiful sight,’ Harry announced with a loaded sigh.

‘This is what brings all the customers here,’ Elpida said. ‘This is the very best place to watch the sunset from.’

‘I proposed to my wife as the sun was setting,’ Harry stated. ‘Here in Corfu. Actually in Kassiopi.’

‘Really!’ Elpida exclaimed. ‘That is wonderful! So romantic!’

He sighed. ‘But we’re not together anymore.’

Imogen swallowed the knot in her throat. ‘It’s just a trial separation though, isn’t it?’ she said quickly. She addressed the table. ‘Harry has two children. Tristan and Olivia.’

‘That is lovely,’ Elpida announced. ‘They will come here and they will fall in love with Corfu too.’

‘I will get more drinks,’ Risto said, shifting back his chair.

‘No, Risto,’ Panos said.

P
anos had seen
Imogen’s eyes glaze as she watched the setting sun. Something had been brought to mind as she involved herself in the scene and it had caused her to tear up.

‘
I
will get more drinks,’ he stated, standing. ‘Imogen, would you help me?’

She stayed in her seat, looking at Harry, as if she were searching for a reason to decline.

‘Yes, Imogen, please go with him,’ Elpida said. ‘Make sure he gets the house wine, and Pano, order some meze.’

For once he was glad of his grandmother’s intervention. He waited, watching Imogen until she rose from her seat. As she stood and pushed her chair into position he was given a chance to see just how the cut of her dress highlighted the length of her legs and the curve of her waist.

‘Swordfish is a good choice,’ he heard his grandmother say. ‘It is a very meaty fish.’

‘I’m thinking green beans, new potatoes and a mustard dressing,’ Harry chirped up.

Panos let Imogen come around the table toward him before he led the way to the bar.

Leaning his weight against the rustic wood countertop he looked at her. Her cheeks were glowing from the red wine and she had self-consciously folded her arms across her chest.

‘Your body language says that you do not trust me at all,’ he stated, a small smile on his lips. ‘What do you think I am going to do? Throw meze at you?’

‘Of course I don’t trust you. What do you expect?’

‘I expect, given that I have apologised and you have half drowned me in paint, to be given a second chance.’

‘A second chance at what?’ she asked him. ‘You’re buying up property all around us. Harry’s restaurant isn’t going to have a chance if you move diggers in and start tearing up the beach.’

Those flyaway strands of gold were dancing around her jawline and his fingers itched to push them back. He called over the barman before digging his hands into the pockets of his trousers. He ordered in Greek and turned back to Imogen.

‘Panos, I told you Harry’s trying to save his marriage. He wants Corfu to be a new start. He hasn’t been well and back in England people are quick to judge. He sees the restaurant as a lifeline. It isn’t helping knowing you’re trying to change everything around us when we’ve only just got here.’

‘He is ill?’ Panos questioned.

Imogen shook her head. ‘No… not like that.’

‘You do not have to tell me,’ he said when Imogen failed to expand. ‘It is none of my business.’ But the fact remained he wanted to know.

‘Harry had an accident at work.’ She toyed with the edge of a lace doily on the countertop, twisting the thread in between her thumb and forefinger. ‘He was working on a plane and the ladder wasn’t secure and he fell off. He broke his hip badly and he was at home for months recovering. When he finally went back, nothing was the same and
he
wasn’t the same. It all just spiralled from there.’ She paused. ‘He has depression and depression isn’t something you can just fix. It takes time and patience and… maybe a restaurant in Corfu.’

He reached for one of the carafes of red wine brought by the barman and filled two tumblers.

‘Drink,’ he ordered, raising his glass to his lips. He took a large mouthful and turned his eyes on her. She held the glass with both hands and gulped at the liquid. A little found its way to the edge of her lips and she dabbed a finger at the excess. Why did he find that small motion so sexy?

‘I apologise,’ Panos said. ‘For making things difficult for you.’ He swallowed. Did he mean that?

She looked up at him. ‘Thank you.’

Then he felt it again. That pull he’d felt on the beach today. He might have been covered from head to foot in paint but when he’d lain over her, looking down at her, he’d wanted to kiss her so desperately a fist of longing had thumped in his gut. Why did things have to be so complicated? He wanted the restaurant, this beachfront project and… he wanted her. But was it only because neither of them were straightforward?

She took another swig of the wine and leant back against the bar, her gaze on the diners on the terrace and the mountain backdrop. ‘So, after Harry fell off the aeroplane he used to tell people he was a stuntman at parties for a while.’ She smiled. ‘He was an engineer… so, so, clever… not like me.’

He watched her. She was relaxing slightly, her shoulders loosening, her demeanour lightening.

‘He always loved planes,’ she continued. ‘He used to annoy me so much when we were children – making models for hours on end, throwing polystyrene ones around the house. He said aviation was his destiny. He wrote that phrase on all his school books. Whereas I… I wrote
I heart Justin Timberlake
.’ She laughed.

‘He was your husband?’ Panos asked.

She laughed again.

He was confused.

‘Justin Timberlake’s a pop star…
was
a pop star. Now he’s famous for… being Justin Timberlake I guess.’ She shrugged. ‘I don’t suppose he’s that big in Greece.’

Panos’ attention went to where the band were setting up on a small stage, a grape-vine-covered pergola over the top. He turned back to Imogen.

‘If he does not play the
bouzouki
he is not really a musician in Greece.’

She laughed. ‘Do you play the
bouzouki
?’

He shook his head. ‘No.’ He didn’t wait for her to ask another question. ‘So, Imogen, Harry’s destiny is with this restaurant now? Not planes any longer?’

‘He can’t climb any more. He had to leave the job he loved and that didn't help anything. But even after everything he’s been through, Harry’s Harry, always with a glass half full, ever the optimist.’

‘And you?’ Panos asked.

‘What about me?’

‘How is your glass?’

He watched her look to her wineglass as if hoping the answer was going to be found amid the dark, berry-infused drink.

‘I’ve been sharing Harry’s glass for so long I’m not sure what mine looks like.’

He nodded, resting his body against the bar, his arm just touching hers.

‘What about your glass, Pano?’

The use of his shortened name sent a delicious chill up his spine.

‘My glass?’ he said, considering the question as if his answer might hold the resolution to the Greek financial crisis.

‘Yes,’ she breathed. ‘The very expensive one bought from the proceeds of all the village tavernas you’ve torn down.’

His elation was short-lived and he felt his cheeks rising in temperature. He deserved that. He was a successful businessman who put profit and deals above anything and everything. It was what he knew. It was safe. He should smile. Congratulate her on her repartee. But it wouldn’t be the truth of what he felt.

‘My glass is broken, Imogen,’ he said eventually. ‘And it’s been broken for a very long time.’