Twenty-nine
Isadora Georgiou’s house
‘I thought … I thought my heart was going to burst right out of my chest!’ Sonya pulled the helmet from her head.
Tess shivered, her eyes on Andras as he parked their vehicle. She had just had the ride of her life. Her arms wrapped around a gorgeous Greek, winding around and up the mountainous terrain, spectacular scenery around each and every curve of the road – the sparkling sea, copses of olive trees, grazing goats and sheep, ancient ruins – a sliver of excitement had coiled right the way through her. She had never been anywhere quite like this before, and with her new dress barely covering her Brazilian, sat astride a throbbing engine, an easy, relaxed smile had spread right across her face.
‘I think I got arthritis on my arthritis,’ Sonya announced, crunching over the stones, legs wobbling.
‘Did you?’ Tess asked, still watching Andras. His shirtsleeves were rolled up to each elbow exposing those delicious forearms. She watched him get off the moped with a lot more ease than she had a few moments earlier. Black jeans just fitted enough to hint at what was beneath and that plain, pale blue cotton shirt covering those delectable abs.
‘Yes,’ Sonya said. ‘But, apart from the aching all over and the feeling like we might fly right over the ravine any second … oh my, I loved it!’ She giggled. ‘I’ve never been on a moped before. I almost can’t wait for the ride back.’
Tess watched Andras as he spoke to Babis. Their journey had been equally as fast and thrilling as Sonya’s description, but along with the air of reckless abandon on terrifying not-even-B-roads, Andras had also been considerate. Perhaps it was because her fingernails had been digging into his flesh when he’d powered around a particularly tight turn, but nevertheless he had slowed down, calling over his shoulder to check she was all right the moment she tensed.
‘So, here we are,’ Sonya said, looking ahead at the very traditional one-storey building in front of them.
‘Here we are,’ Tess repeated. Despite its one level, the house was an imposing structure that seemed to sink back a long way, further than the eye could see from their current vantage point. Just in front of the property, bordering the rounded parking area-cum-garden were abundant flowering clematis bushes, followed by gunmetal grey urns each side of the door, filled with heady-scented lavender plants. It seemed that every space on this island was filled with gorgeous plant-life – expertly nurtured – unlike Tess’s patch of garden at home.
‘Spiti Georgiou,’ Sonya stated, breathing in deep.
Tess looked at her friend. ‘What?’ she queried.
‘Spiti is the Greek word for “house”.’
The engine of Babis’s bike started up again and then the chef sped from the driveway, waving a hand at them both.
‘So,’ Tess said. ‘What’s the Greek for “I wonder if the mother and the cousin are going to poison our dinner”?’
‘Perhaps we should forget the translation and try to guess which one will try to do it first,’ Sonya remarked as Andras moved towards them. She flapped a mosquito away with her hand. ‘No, deep breaths, we mustn’t think like that.’ She closed her eyes and sucked in her lungs. ‘Because after all that sea air …’ She opened her eyes and grinned at Tess. ‘I’m really, really hungry.’
Andras moistened his lips as he looked at the women. That dress. Totally inappropriate for riding in. The eye-averting Tess had made him do when she’d got on the moped hadn’t done anything to stop the fact her thighs had been closed around his hips on the drive. And his body had reacted to it without hesitation. Looking at her now, as he walked over the stones towards them, well, he was starting to realise that overcomplicating things had been a bad idea. His libido was in need, and there was no denying she was an attractive woman. Perhaps, after the dinner, despite his pledge to himself about meaningless sex, he would head into Corfu Town and find someone anonymous to lose himself in. That would scratch the itch for a while.
He smiled at Tess and Sonya. ‘You are ready for dinner?’
‘Oh yes!’ Sonya stated at once. ‘I can smell …’ She sniffed hard, nose in the air. ‘Spiced meats and … rosemary.’
‘Really?’ Tess answered, stepping forward. ‘All I can smell is Andras’s family’s disapproval of his non-Greek girlfriend.’ She smiled at him. ‘I’ve heard she’s a terribly bad influence from England who is going to commit him to a life of debauchery and all things unholy.’
His eyes began to stray to the low-cut neckline of her dress and he quickly put the brakes on. He looked directly at her. ‘All things unholy?’
He watched her swallow, the bravado melting a little.
She nodded her head, confidence restoring. ‘Things like … not saying grace before we eat. Not marrying people we are related to.’ She batted her eyelashes. ‘Lots and lots of s—’
‘Souvlaki!’ Sonya announced. ‘I can definitely smell souvlaki.’
Andras smiled and held his arm out, indicating the front door. ‘Shall we go in?’
‘Yes,’ Tess said. ‘Bring on the arsenic.’
Stepping through the old wooden door, unsteady on its hinges, Tess opened her eyes as wide as they could go to try to find some light. This was not the typical house she had seen on A Place in the Sun – all white walls, multiple aspects letting in the natural light; the walls here were a muddy mushroom and she could barely see where she was stepping.
‘Is there no electricity?’ Tess asked, hands reaching forward, worried that if she lost Andras she would be twisting and turning through these narrow corridors for ever.
‘Ooo, cobwebs,’ Sonya said from behind Tess. ‘I do know from Marco Polo there are a few big species of spider in Corfu.’
‘I wish you hadn’t said that,’ Tess answered. ‘Andras, why is it so dark?’
‘I do not know,’ he responded. ‘A power cut perhaps?’
‘A power cut?’ Tess exclaimed. ‘No light at all when it gets dark?’ No plug to charge her phone was what she had really wanted to say.
‘No heat to cook the dinner,’ Sonya said, tone dismayed.
‘Is anyone even here?’ Tess asked.
Suddenly the door opened and Tess was blinded by light. She stooped behind Andras, shielding her eyes as several shrieks pierced the air. Dots floating in her vision, she reached out sideways hoping for a nice, solid wall to cling to. Instead she felt … fur. She screamed, retracting her hand and falling sideways.
‘It’s a rat!’ Tess exclaimed, lips shaking with the words.
‘It’s not! It’s my hair! Ow!’ Sonya exclaimed, hand to her head.
One of the shapes in front of them said something in Greek. Bright sunshine carried on stinging her retinas. Something else was spoken, and this time the urgency in the woman’s voice was enough to make Tess’s stomach fall a little. Something was wrong.
Andras moved, leaving her and rushing past the group of women – she could just make them out now – into the deep bowels of this unconventional house.
‘What’s going on?’ Sonya asked as the women followed Andras.
‘I don’t know,’ Tess replied. ‘But I need to get out of this creepy corridor.’
‘Traditional,’ Sonya stated. ‘Not creepy.’
‘What about the pitch-black to bright light combination?’ Tess asked. ‘That was creepy. It was like some sort of SAS tactic to throw us off balance.’
‘Do you think so?’ Sonya asked.
‘I know so,’ Tess answered. ‘But we are not going to succumb.’
‘No,’ Sonya said, a little hesitant. ‘Unless they withhold food. Then I might just do anything for a gyros.’
‘Come on,’ Tess said, linking an arm with her friend. ‘I think my fake boyfriend might need us.’