Those Summer Nights (Corfu, Greek Island Romance) (29 page)

‘
A
ntio
, Manilos,’ Panos spoke into the phone. He ended the call and sucked in what he hoped was a decision-affirming breath. He had just decided on something that might just be the most crazy business move he had ever made. It had certainly felt that way when he was explaining the bare bones of it to Manilos. Could it work? There were no guarantees. It would also involve getting the business owners of Acharavi completely behind him. The idea had sprung from the community market plan but this was more personal. It was about giving something back.

‘What am I doing here?’ Elpida asked, appearing behind him and setting her eyes on the Dimitriou Enterprises sign outside Tomas’ Taverna. ‘If you are cutting a ribbon before the earthmovers come I really do not need to see it.’

He smiled at his grandmother. ‘No earthmovers,’ he stated.

‘They are running late already?’ she asked, raising her eyes to Heaven. ‘Only in Greece, huh?’

‘They are not coming,’ he said. He straightened his body, lifting his face to the sun. ‘They are not coming at all.’

He watched Elpida’s lips disappear into her face like she was sucking out the stone from an olive. ‘Do not make jokes about this, Pano. Joking around the heart of an old woman is worse than her smoking herself into an early grave.’

He shook his head. ‘I am not joking.’

She looked even more confused, the lines etched into the swarthy skin on her forehead creasing. All the pain her sons had put her through and both dying too young. Him resenting everything and everyone. How was Elpida still standing eternally strong?

‘I am not going to create an entertainment complex here,
yiayia
,’ Panos clarified.

‘But… the signs and… you have bought Tomas’ Taverna…’ Elpida spluttered, as if still trying to make sense of his words.

‘I know,’ he answered. ‘And I still hope to buy Avalon and the other three restaurants on this section of Beach Road.’

Elpida shook her head. ‘Then I still do not understand.’

He smiled. He wasn’t sure he had quite got his head around it himself yet but suddenly it all seemed to be making sense.

‘I am going to offer to buy the restaurants. And then I will lease them back to the restauranteurs at a minimal rent,’ he stated.

Elpida blinked, then blinked again, as if the words were foreign to her. She patted the pockets on the front of her green leopard-print dress. ‘Where are my cigarettes? I need to smoke.’

‘No,
yiayia
, you do not.’

‘This sound very much like a trickety trap,’ she stated. ‘How would you be making your millions grow by doing that?’

‘I would not,’ he said. ‘This would not be about me making any more money.’ He took a breath. ‘It would be about me giving something back to Acharavi.’

‘I need to smoke,’ Elpida repeated.

‘I know these restaurants are still going through troubled times. Tomas had re-mortgaged. Lafi at Avalon is doing a little better, but I suspect the other restaurants are running on empty.’ He looked straight at his grandmother. ‘By giving them a lump sum they would be able to be debt free and keep their businesses, paying me a small amount each month they can afford, re-establishing themselves. By buying the properties I can ensure that no other developer can ever decide to rip up the beachfront. Because…’ He paused. ‘That would be a stupid idea.’

‘Pftt!’ Elpida exclaimed. ‘And what if you change your mind? You will own everything. What is to stop you getting bored in a few years’ time and demolishing it then?’

‘Alejandro Kalas has made it quite clear that developments such as mine would not be welcomed by the council. But,’ he said. ‘I am going to try and make sure the whole area is protected from people like me in the future.’

He swallowed. He realised it was a complete about turn, but over the past week Corfu had slowly seeped its way back into his heart and the blinkers that had been so permanently fixed in place had started to shift. All the women in his life had had a hand in it. Elpida, Imogen, even Rhea. The next thing on his list was reconnecting with his mother. If she would accept the offered olive branch.

‘This sounds a little too good to be true,’ Elpida responded.

‘There’s more,’ Panos said, wetting his lips. ‘I want the restaurants on the front to work together. They will not be my businesses, I will just be the landlord, but I hope they will take on board an idea I have had.’

‘What idea?’ Elpida asked with a sniff.

He sucked in a breath of the sea air and gazed out in the direction of Roda.

‘Vouchers,’ he said. ‘I remember seeing Risto giving out vouchers for money off meals at Halloumi for opening night.’

‘Go on,’ Elpida urged, her eyes still monitoring him.

‘Each restaurant along the strip will give out vouchers for one of the other restaurants.'

‘Their competitors? Pfft!’

‘No, their
colleagues
. Businesses all with the same aim. Making a living,’ Panos countered. ‘The very best way in business now is to work alongside one another, gain new business as a group, help to promote the sea-front restaurants as a whole.’

‘Are you talking about community, Pano?’ Elpida asked, looking a little suspicious of his motives.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I am.’

She shook her head, tears in her eyes. ‘Now, finally, you begin to understand,’ she whispered.

Her expression cut him to the quick and he looked from her to the beach where Spiros the doughnut man was beginning his afternoon walk along the sand. He had come here intent on making his mark on the village but he had come at it from entirely the wrong angle, from the same direction he had been coming at everything since he had left the island all those years ago. It had been about wanting to be better than his father, to be better than John, to prove the Dimitriou name was about success not failure. Except all he had proved was success in that form meant nothing if you were alienating everyone around you.

‘The hotels were not Christo’s dream in the beginning,’ Elpida said wistfully.

Panos raised his head, his eyes meeting hers. ‘What?’

She shook her head. ‘I do not think you remember how close Christo was to his brother Spiro. The hotels were always something Spiro talked about. Spiro wanted them to go into business together but Christo was not sure about the change.’

Panos swallowed. Risto’s parents had died when Risto was only two, he a few years older. It was just after that Christos would have purchased his first hotel.

‘I think your father’s grief played a very big part in shaping the man he was to become. It was like he was on a missionary to be the best… but not for him… for his brother.’

Panos shook his head, inhaling deep. It sounded such a familiar tale, trying to better his father but by making the same selfish choices. And now he was being told they weren’t really his father’s desires but his Uncle Spiro’s. ‘All of us Dimitrious have made many mistakes.’

Elpida nodded. ‘But it is not too late for you.’

‘That is what Imogen says and I hope she is right,’ he admitted, slipping his hands into his pockets. ‘Because there is one more thing I need to ask you.’

‘Pfft!’ Elpida exclaimed. ‘You think this is enough to make me stop smoking? I think this is a wonderful idea but Harry’s attempt at grilling the cheese his restaurant is named after is enough to make me need a packet a day.’

He smiled, settling his eyes on his grandmother again. ‘It is not to do with smoking this time.’ He moved his vision to the patch of land they were stood next to, the crop of grass gleaming in the sunlight. ‘
Yiayia
, I got Manilos to find out who owned this piece of land.’ He paused. ‘With the mapping how it is in Greece it took him a while, but today he gave me the answer.’

He watched Elpida study the rough tarmac on the ground.

‘
You
own it,
yiayia
,’ he said.

She shrugged her shoulders, finally lifting her head to face him. ‘And it seems to be the piece of land that everybody wants to buy around here.’

‘Why did you not build on it? Make the restaurant bigger?’ Panos asked.

‘I get Nico to cut the grass,’ she said, stepping onto the lush oasis of the turf. ‘To keep it green like the trees in the mountains.’

He watched Elpida slide off her shoes and embed her feet into the lawn. She sighed, tipping her head back and rubbing her bare soles against the grass. ‘I do this every time I go past here, Pano,’ she informed. ‘This is where your grandfather and I had our first date. Right here, before all of the beachfront was built. On this patch of grass.’ She smiled. ‘Olives and Cooky’s father’s bread never tasted so good.’ She smacked her lips and let out a laugh.

He nodded, finally understanding.

‘You want to buy this from me?’ Elpida asked, dabbing her feet up and down like she was treading grapes.

‘Not now I know how much it means to you,’ he responded.

‘What do you want it for?’ she asked.

He sighed. ‘It does not matter.’

‘Pfft! Take off your business shoes,’ Elpida ordered.

‘What? No, do not be crazy.’

‘Pfft! Awful things that make your toes sweat. Take them off!’

He shook his head. ‘
Yiayia
…’

‘Off!’ Elpida ordered. ‘Or I will smoke twice as much as soon as you are out of sight.’

She was staring him down with that age-old expression he knew there was no escaping from. He used the heel of one shoe to pull down the side of the other and slipped it from his foot. He then bent, pulling off the second shoe with his hands, before dragging the dark socks loose and leaving himself barefoot.

‘Now come,’ Elpida beckoned. ‘Come onto the grass.’

He strode off the stony road, ignoring the jab of gravel on his soles and sunk down into the green layer, letting the coolness soak into his skin.

He felt Elpida take his hand in hers, squeezing it tight.

‘Now close your eyes,’ she ordered.

‘I really do not want to be thinking about you and my grandfather sharing olives, bread and Zeus knows what else,’ he stated, his eyes closing.

‘We do not share anything more than that the first time. Your grandfather was a gentleman,’ Elpida reminded him. She breathed in, her hand tightening in his. ‘Do you feel it?’ she asked. ‘The very roots of the island moving underneath you?’

He concentrated hard, trying to let go of everything but his feet on the Earth and his grandmother’s hand in his. He didn’t know about the roots of Corfu but he did know he had never felt freer.

‘Now,’ Elpida whispered. ‘You tell me why you want to buy this land.’

‘For Imogen,’ he said. ‘For her play area for the children.’

He felt Elpida breathe even deeper, then he watched her open her eyes, regarding the picture-postcard scene in front of them like it was the best sight in the world. He opened his mouth to say something else – that now he knew how much the plot meant to her he didn’t want to pursue the idea.

‘Then you can have it,’ she said. ‘For a fair price.’ She turned her eyes to him. ‘On one condition.’

‘What?’ he asked.

She smiled. ‘That it stays a green space, just like this… forever.’ Her eyes went back to the beach – fishing boats bobbing far out, children splashing nearer to shore, holidaymakers with their drinks and books on loungers under parasols. ‘When I am long gone,’ she said. ‘I want to know that children will be here, playing barefoot, laughing like goats.’ She chuckled. ‘Promise me this, Pano.’

He was quite certain goats didn’t laugh but he understood. ‘I promise,
yiayia
.’ He squeezed her hand. ‘A green space, forever.’

‘
W
ell
?’ Harry asked.

Imogen looked up from the revised menu, tears in her eyes.

‘Say something,’ Harry begged.

‘Yes!’ Elpida chipped in. ‘Say something! Anything!’

‘It’s perfect,’ Imogen breathed. ‘Just perfect.’

Harry howled like a werewolf and Elpida said something in Greek and clapped her hands together in delight.

‘It looks like a menu for a restaurant,’ Imogen said, her eyes going back to the paper she was holding. ‘Like, I don’t know, something for a Greek Rick Stein.’

‘That’s because it is,’ Harry stated, laughing.

‘It all feels real now.’

‘I’ve been trying to tell her this since we got here,’ Harry said to Elpida. ‘But seeing this… I’m really feeling like the king of my new culinary castle.’

‘Do not say that after house red wine,’ Imogen told him.

‘And tonight the king will be served,’ Elpida stated.

‘What?’ Harry asked.

‘Tonight, we will do a test run, a rehearsal of dresses… is that how you say it?’ Elpida asked.

Imogen looked at the little woman, confused. ‘A dress rehearsal?’ she guessed.

‘Yes… for Harry and Janie and the children. You, me, Pano and Risto. We will open up the restaurant and we will serve them like it is opening night,’ Elpida informed.

‘Elpida, you don’t need to—’ Harry started.

‘Pfft! You have not put your feet down for a moment since you arrive here. Instead of making these beans on grilled bread every night or giving money to Lafi down the beach, you will eat your own food, here, and we will cook for you.’ Elpida looked at Harry like refusal was not an option. Pano and Risto will be the waiters. Imogen, you will run the kitchen with me. Harry, you go and get Janie and the children and I will make the calls.’

Harry looked to Imogen and she shrugged helplessly. No one dared argue with Elpida when she was on a mission.

W
hen Panos arrived
at the back door of Halloumi that evening it was to be greeted by his grandmother’s voice yelling instructions.

‘Seven minutes, Imogen. If the vegetables have longer than seven minutes they will be like the weed from the sea.’

‘Some people don’t like to lose their teeth when they have dinner out,’ he heard Imogen answer. ‘No one wants carrots like bullets.’

‘I tell you, seven minutes and they will be perfect.’

‘Perfect for what? Rabbits?’

He smiled, pushing open the door and being enveloped by steam and the scent of steaming fresh produce. ‘
Kalispera
,’ he greeted. ‘Is it safe to come in?’

‘You are late,’ Elpida stated. ‘Risto is serving the wine, and the starters are almost ready.’

Imogen turned from the griddle pan she was cooking meatballs in, her face red, her hair covered by a net. She smiled at him. ‘
Kalispera
.’

Straightaway he wanted to drag her out of the kitchen and take her home with him.

‘Where have you been?’ Elpida asked.

‘Not far,’ he answered. ‘Kassiopi… for a meeting.’

‘I do not want to know any more now. We have dinner to serve.’ Elpida whipped up a saucepan and pointed to the worktop across the kitchen. ‘Take the bread and oils out before the children start to eat the candles that smell like lemons.’

Panos moved into the room but headed for the range not the food. He pulled Imogen away from the cooker, turning her around to face him before pressing his lips on hers.

‘Oh, for the love of Zeus!’ Elpida exclaimed. ‘There is a reason we have hair nets and clean hands in the kitchen. It stops the spread of germs. Tongues and lips are not welcome unless they belong to the ox on the specials board.’

‘I have something to tell you later,’ Panos said softly, tucking in the stray hair that had escaped from Imogen’s net.

‘Elpida told me Rhea went back to Crete today.’

He nodded. ‘Yes, she said to say goodbye to you.’

‘Very nice girl,’ Elpida remarked. ‘But too thin and too many bracelets.’

‘I have something to tell you too,’ Imogen said.

‘Panos!’ Elpida stated. ‘The bread.’

He kissed Imogen once more, then, picking up the tray of bread and oil, he headed out into the restaurant.

W
orking
in the Southampton diner back home and her previous adventures in food seemed so simple now Imogen had spent an evening in the kitchen with Elpida, cooking Greek dishes she wasn’t familiar with and wanting to make it all perfect for Harry.

While Elpida put the finishing touches to the desserts she slipped out of the back door for some much-needed fresh air and a chance to catch her mum before it got too late. She wanted to tell her about the Wyatt Hotel Group email. She hadn’t shared it with anyone because, in truth, it was churning her up. She didn’t want to distract Harry before the opening of the restaurant and, although she was going to tell Panos, she was dreading it. When she first arrived on Corfu she almost couldn’t wait for the two weeks to pass, but now it was a completely different story. So much had happened and so much had changed. And now she also had the dream job opportunity within her grasp.

She took a breath, fanning a hand over her face to move the humid air, and put her phone to her ear, eyes noting the first stars beginning to appear in the dusky sky.

‘Hello,’ Grace answered.

‘Hello, Mum,’ Imogen replied.

‘Oh, hello, you just caught me,’ Grace said.

‘Were you off to bed?’ Imogen asked, checking her watch again.

‘Bed? It’s only seven o’clock here.’

‘I know, I just… well, were you going out?’ She couldn’t remember the last time her mum had ventured out of the house in the evening since April had passed away and they’d gone to shows at the Mayflower.

‘Yes, I’m going across the road… to the new house,’ Grace stated proudly.

The way her mum had said ‘new house’ made it sound like a prize from the upper end of the Win the Ads segment from
Ant and Dec’s Saturday Night Takeaway
. She was glad this windfall was giving her mum a new lease of life.

‘That’s lovely,’ Imogen said.

‘Yes, Fionnula, that’s April’s great-niece, has given me a key. Someone has to keep an eye on the property for insurance purposes until the probate goes through and as I’m here and it’s going to be mine, she’s left keys with me.’

‘You sound excited, Mum.’

‘I am… a little bit… and apprehensive of course. I mean it is much bigger than this place so I need to be mindful of the fuel bills.’ She sighed. ‘And I’m not entirely sure how to operate the wood-burning stove.’

‘We’ll work it out together.’

‘So, how are things there with the restaurant?’ Grace asked.

‘They’re good,’ she admitted, smiling. ‘Really good. It’s the grand opening tomorrow night. We’ve got a
bouzouki
player coming and a hundred balloons to blow up and lots of preparation to do but… it’s exciting.’

She really
was
excited. At the beginning, watching Harry had been compelling, her brother growing in stature and confidence with every passing moment on the road to restaurantville. But now it almost felt like she owned it too. Planning the menu, cleaning the floors, restoring the old furniture, placing the new sofas, settling in Mrs Pelekas’ tablecloths and the candles from Arillas – she was at the centre of it too now, heart and soul.

‘And how are Janie and the children?’ Grace asked.

Imogen turned towards the terrace. Janie and Harry were sat opposite each other, one child on either side, hand-holding, sharing smiles, conversation, home-made lemonade and red wine, the bulbs strung across the pergola above their heads and the candle on their table creating an atmospheric glow. Panos and Risto appeared from inside, each carrying plates. Her stomach clenched at the sight of the complex man she had fallen for.

‘They’re really well here, Mum. Corfu is just the most wonderful place.’ She inhaled the humid air, turning her gaze to the darkness, the street lamps flickering against the night sky, the faint shush of the water rolling up to the beach. ‘I wish you could see it.’

There was silence from the other end of the line, until…

‘You sound really happy, Imogen. I don’t think I’ve heard you sound this happy since… since you got all those hotel pens out your dad used to bring back for you and we counted them.’

She smiled to herself, nuzzling her head closer to the phone in her hand. ‘One hundred and three.’

‘Was it really?’

She nodded, dipping her hand into the yellow bag on her shoulder and pulling out the first pen-like object she found. It was black-and-white-striped like a zebra and she knew without even looking it was from a hotel in South Africa. ‘I am happy, Mum,’ she said, rolling the pen between her fingers.

‘I’m glad,’ Grace said. ‘And I’m glad Harry and Janie are getting along and Corfu… well, it does sound lovely.’

‘It is,’ she breathed.

‘I bet you’ll miss the weather when you come home.’

She swiped at a mosquito in the air, a rush of humidity running over her. Then she jumped a little as something brushed up against her legs. It was Socks, his tail winding around her calf like a snake. She bent to stroke him and he arched his back with pleasure. The weather wasn’t the only thing she was going to miss about the place. Her eyes went across the night to Panos.

‘We had rain today,’ Grace continued. ‘Gallons of it, and there’s still a hosepipe ban, can you believe it? Oh!’ Grace exclaimed suddenly. ‘Did you ever hear back from that…? Lydia, wasn’t it? From the hotel?’

Imogen’s heart started to race as she watched Panos serving wine to her brother, those inky eyes just visible in the half-light, tendrils of his sexy dark hair touching his forehead as he poured from the bottle. She swallowed, dropping the zebra pen back into her bag.

‘No,’ she said quickly. ‘I didn’t ever hear back.’

She had a decision to make.