Seventy-four
Taverna Georgiou
Joey threw a plaster-of-Paris plate as hard as he could at the floor of the restaurant as, all around the bits and pieces of crockery, the wedding guests swerved and jigged and hopped and skipped their way across the room in time to the Greek band. It was evening and the celebrations were still continuing. The food, as always, had been divine – dips and bread, olives, fresh fish, rosemary-coated roast potatoes, green beans and a selection of puddings Tess had liberally dipped into. It was such a wonderful culmination of everything they had enjoyed during their Greek holiday.
‘He’s been wanting to do that all evening,’ Sonya remarked, seeming to marvel at Joey’s smashing skills.
Tess smiled and took another sip of the sweet white wine they had been drinking since the afternoon, with plenty of water in between to counteract the alcohol and the heat. ‘I spoke to my mum.’
Sonya gave Tess her full attention then. ‘You did?’
‘I did,’ Tess replied, feeling lightness fill her up as she recalled their talk.
‘And … how did it go?’ Sonya asked.
‘Better than I could ever have hoped for,’ Tess said.
There had been so many tears as she had leant against the eucalyptus tree telling her mother how sorry she was about the wedding, how for so long she had hated herself, blamed herself and how she had been saving long and hard to make things right. And her mum had listened, just listened, until Tess was completely spent and then there had been tears from her too. Sadness that Tess had ever felt that way and promises that their connection would never be lost again.
‘I’m so glad, Tess,’ Sonya said, chinking her glass with her friend’s.
‘And I’m going to pay for her to go to New Zealand. She told me she didn’t want the money I’ve been saving, that Dad could do without it too. The loans are all paid off, but I’m not going to let her give up on her dream.’
‘You could go with her,’ Sonya suggested.
Tess shook her head. ‘No, I couldn’t. I’ve just had this holiday and I need to get back to work. I had an email earlier, the Black Velvet branding seems to have gone down really well so I need to push that through and …’
‘And there’s Andras,’ Sonya added.
All the time she had been pretend-thinking about work and saying all the right, sensible things, all she had been really thinking about was Andras. Corfu. How many weeks she needed to be back at work before she could have another holiday. Perhaps she couldn’t tell him she loved him yet but she was aching to visit again before she had even left.
‘Tess,’ Sonya said, waving a hand in front of her face.
‘Sorry … I was miles away.’
‘Were you?’ Sonya asked, patting her hand, her eyes going to the ceiling, fairy lights and wedding bunting hanging from the beams. ‘Or were you right here?’
‘Mama!’ Spiros shouted across the table, his words slurring a little after a day of celebration. ‘Mama! There is something that I have to know.’ He started to stand up, pointing a finger before Andras dragged him back down to his seat.
‘This is my husband,’ Kira announced, hair now loose from its confines, looking as wild as ever. ‘My husband who is going to be too drunk to be of any use to me tonight!’
‘That is not true!’ Spiros insisted, rising from his chair again.
‘Spiros!’ Isadora said, banging her stick. ‘It is time for you to start listening hard to your wife.’
‘Yes, I will,’ Spiros answered, raising a hand to his eyebrow in a mock salute. ‘But first, Mama, there is something I want to know.’
Andras poured his brother a glass of water. ‘Drink this.’ He held it out.
‘Wait!’ Spiros said, waving the glass away. ‘Mama, please, you must tell us … what happened to Uncle Dimitri?’
All eyes, including Andras’s, turned to his mother, like she held all the answers to the Grexit crisis.
Isadora took a long, slow breath in and then released it out fast with the words. ‘He died.’
Everyone at the table inhaled at once and some of his relations made the sign of the cross over their torso.
‘But how?’ Spiros asked. ‘Why?’ He took a sip of water. ‘All these years we have had to imagine just what his fate was. I have thought of wolves eating him alive or holidaymakers in Kavos eating him alive or a sea accident involving hundreds of jellyfish, but I do not want to wonder any more.’
‘Hundreds of jellyfish!’ Kira remarked. ‘And wolves? You watch too much television.’
‘Mama, you need to tell us,’ Spiros begged.
‘He died,’ Isadora repeated. ‘That is all you should need to know.’
‘Andras.’
It was Dorothea tapping him on the shoulder, a special white wedding-day handkerchief over her hair. Her tone had an urgency like the entire kitchen might be on fire. He got to his feet and followed her quickly.
‘Is everything OK?’ he asked as they arrived at the desk. ‘Is it the tortoise?’
‘No,’ Dorothea stated. ‘It is the telephone.’ She picked it up and held it out to him. ‘It is the bank.’
He took hold of the receiver and put it to his ear. ‘Hello.’
As Mr Giantsiorhs made his introductions, Andras’s eyes went to his taverna and all his family and friends enjoying the wedding festivities. That’s what he wanted from this business. More and more nights like this, as well as making money, making memories.
He swallowed as the words the banker was saying hit home. ‘I see … yes … I understand.’ He nodded on instinct. ‘Thank you. Of course.’ He replaced the receiver and took a deep breath. Dorothea was still there, looking at him, wringing her hands nervously.
‘Is everything OK, Dorothea?’ he asked.
‘I heard Spiros asking about your Great Uncle Dimitri.’
Andras smiled. ‘He is intent on getting to the bottom of the family mystery before the night is out.’
Dorothea nodded. ‘Dimitri did die,’ she confirmed. ‘But he was one hundred and two and still had his own teeth!’ She folded her arms across her chest. ‘Isadora was always about the drama, even at school!’
Andras shook his head. ‘Do you think we should tell Spiro?’
Dorothea looked towards the table where Spiros was sat, hiccupping into someone’s hat. ‘I think if you tell him tonight he will not remember in the morning.’
Andras nodded and put his arm around the cook. ‘Go and have a drink now, Dorothea, relax. You have worked so hard.’
‘You too, Andras,’ she answered. ‘Perhaps a dance with Tess, no?’
He smiled. He wanted to share every last moment of Tess’s holiday with her, he just needed to work out how to tell her about the bank.