Fourteen
Her name wasn’t Patricia and he had told his mother. Andras shook his head as he headed back into the kitchen. It was OK. It was OK because unless he asked Patri – whatever-her-name was – for help, the two didn’t have to meet at all. She just had to exist. At the other side of the restaurant.
There was a tapping on his shoulder and he spun around, greeting Spiros.
‘Andras, what is going on?’
‘I have dishes to bring out,’ he answered, stepping on into the other room. The heat from the range of ovens hit him and Babis and Eryx were already there passing him orders – kleftiko and souvlaki for table eighteen. Dorothea had her scarf-covered head stuck in a pan of frying garlic and onion.
‘Mama says your girlfriend is here,’ Spiros stated bluntly.
‘Spiro, I am very busy,’ he replied, rushing back into the restaurant.
‘You ignored my advice and found someone to pretend to be your girlfriend instead of telling the truth?’ Spiros continued, tracking Andras.
‘And I am already regretting it,’ Andras responded. ‘You were right. I am an idiot and now I am in an even worse situation.’ He smiled at the occupants of the table for two. ‘Kleftiko and souvlaki. Enjoy.’
‘Marietta is nice,’ Spiros continued, following Andras again as he made for the kitchen a second time.
He looked over his shoulder at his brother. What was that supposed to mean? ‘I know Marietta is nice. She is my second cousin. You also told me about the benefits of building works and free meat.’
‘So, perhaps the best thing to do is to give her a chance,’ Spiros suggested.
Andras stopped walking and Spiros almost bowled into him. ‘Do you really mean that?’
Spiros shrugged. ‘Why not? You tried marriage your way before. Perhaps it is time to try Mama’s way.’
Andras felt the anger begin to bubble inside him. ‘Did Mama send you over here?’
‘No,’ Spiros answered.
‘Really?’ He eyed his brother with suspicion.
‘I am only thinking of you, Andras. I am leaving soon, and … I just want you to be happy.’
Andras tried to swallow down his frustration but it didn’t seem to be working. The animated chatter from his customers, the banging of pots and plates from the kitchen, were all making his hackles immediately raise up. Why was he always painted as the loose sheep who needed guidance?
‘You want me to be happy but you think I should marry someone not of my choosing?’ he asked Spiros firmly.
‘Andras—’
‘You chose Kira. You fell in love with Kira. Mama didn’t arrange your marriage.’
‘I know, but—’
‘I am divorced. It did not work out. It does not mean any relationship I might have in the future will end up the same way.’ He tried to stop his mouth forming a hard line. ‘And if it does, so what? It will be my choice and I will own it no matter what happens.’
Spiros put a hand on his arm. ‘You are angry.’
He drew his arm out of reach. ‘Elissa was not a mistake. We had good times together.’
‘But she left you,’ Spiros said.
‘And how do you know that the same won’t happen to you? People change. Circumstances change. Time changes.’
As soon as the sentence was in the air between them Andras regretted it. It had been cruel and unnecessary and he thought no such thing. Kira and Spiros were perfect for each other.
‘I am sorry, Spiro.’
Spiros shook his head. ‘No. It is OK.’
‘It is all this wedding stuff and Mama and Papa Yiannis, the restaurant being so busy and thinking about finding a new business partner.’ He undid the top button of his shirt. ‘I cannot focus on anything.’ He sighed. He didn’t want to focus on anything except living his life the way he wanted to live it, without all the suffocating trappings of his Greek family.
His eyes went to the table Isadora was sat at. His mother was getting to her feet, observing the room, looking … looking at … Not-Patricia.
‘Quick!’ Andras said to Spiros. ‘Get Babis to play the bouzouki.’
‘What?’ Spiros answered, looking bemused.
‘Greek dancing. Now!’ Andras walked into the centre of the room, moving in a diagonal direction to head off his mother. He clapped his hands loudly and called at the top of his voice. ‘Everybody! Tonight … right now … we will all perform the sirtaki dance. So please, everybody, stand up and join with us!’
He grasped hold of his mother’s arm. ‘Mama, you will dance with me.’
‘What is going on, Andras?’ she asked, eyes like sharp pins. ‘Greek night is not tonight.’
‘Why not?’ Andras said. He held up Isadora’s arm and span underneath it. ‘We are in Greece, no? Every night is Greek night.’
‘What’s happening?’ Sonya asked, turning her head away from the beach view as music began to play.
Tess looked as all the diners, some a little reluctant, rose from their seats, joining hands and shifting away from the table to find space. ‘I think we might be about to experience our first taste of Greek dancing.’
‘Ooo!’ Sonya said, excitement brewing. ‘Shall we join in?’
Tess’s eyes went to her phone. Vodafone GR was all it was managing. Not a flicker of anything World Wide Web related. She needed to look after Sonya, take her mind off the Joey situation, and now the potential baby aspect of the enforced break. It would be a whole lot easier to manage if she had sunk a large rose-coloured flagon of wine though.
‘Yes, let’s dance,’ Tess agreed, holding her hand out to Sonya.
But when skin met skin it wasn’t Sonya’s hand that found hers, it was bigger, stronger … and male. Before Tess knew it, she was being pulled away from the table by Andras.