Five
Kalami Cove Apartments
There wasn’t any Wi-Fi. Even if Tess held her arm out in front of her and shook her phone. There was no 3G either, let alone 4G. Right now, sitting under a cream parasol, with her suitcase at her feet because their room wasn’t ready, her phone was as useful as a waterproof towel.
The Kalami Cove Apartments had been just tiny dots of terracotta and bright white on their approach down the side of the mountain. Nestled among the cypress trees were four blocks of buildings and a central area that comprised a reception and bar that faced out on to the patio. Out here on the terrace were a multitude of sunloungers, some occupied by guests with a lot less on than she had, and a large rectangular pool. It wasn’t an infinity, but the water looked inviting and there were square inches of it without children with inflatables.
‘Look at that view!’
Tess put her phone down on the table. Sonya had already peeled off her cardigan, T-shirt and trainers and was promenading towards the edge of the terrace in nothing but her three-quarter-length leggings and a cami.
It was stifling hot. Definitely in the thirties. More humid than Centre Parcs, even. But Tess wasn’t considering which bikini to change into first, she was still thinking about what she’d signed herself up for on the coach. Staying single. For an entire holiday.
Of course, any normal person would be quite happy to get off the dating train after someone had proposed to them after five weeks and two days. But Tess’s method was tried and tested. It worked for her. It had always worked for her. She got the male company, they got the female company and no one had to worry about what to buy each other for Christmas. It was reassuring. To not be on the shelf, but to also not be on the market either. It was a tactic she had suggested to Rachel when they’d last had lunch. She swallowed. How long ago had that been?
‘Oh, Tess! Come and look!’
She scraped back her chair and got to her feet. Concentrate on Sonya. That’s what was going to get her through No-Men-Ville. And it was true, between Sonya and Joey being inseparable until now, and Tess being constantly hooked up with one person or several others, their girl time had been restricted to snatched lunches in Sonya’s post room cave at work.
She stood next to her friend, looking down and out over the scene.
Immediately below them were emerald-coloured bushes, copses of slender, towering trees, falling away with the mountain’s terrain. Interspersed, like cubes of crumbly sponge cake, were houses – some concrete-roofed, others tiled, some seemingly held together by nothing more than washing lines and corrugated metal sheets. Then, at the very foot of the steep drop, was a strip of sand and pebble beach, the turquoise water softly rushing backwards and forwards. It was beautiful.
A sigh left Sonya. ‘I wish Joey could see this.’
Tess linked her arm through her friend’s. ‘Stop that. He turned it down,’ Tess reminded her. ‘And you’ve got me.’
‘I know,’ Sonya said, squeezing Tess’s arm. ‘It’s like our weekend in Brighton but with better weather and baklava instead of sticks of rock.’
Tess smiled before her attention was drawn to a rather delicious-looking meze being brought to a couple at one of the tables on the terrace. Bright, glossy rings of tomatoes, purple olives, creamy-looking taramasalata and succulent pieces of grilled meat. She hadn’t eaten since the Fox’s Glacier Mint she’d sucked on the plane to relieve her ear-popping during the descent.
‘Oh my!’ Sonya said, looking too. ‘I didn’t realise how hungry I was until I saw that.’
‘Let’s get one,’ Tess agreed.
‘To share?’ Sonya asked.
‘No.’ She grinned. ‘One each.’
‘Bring on the girl time,’ Sonya exclaimed, punching the air then rapidly retracting her arm. ‘Ow, tendonitis, tendonitis.’
Andras had no idea how a restaurant could run out of bread. He had ordered the right amount every single day for the past five years but today, despite the eatery being at usual summer capacity and having considered all the bookings, it was almost all gone. As he powered up the steps to the Kalami Cove Apartments, white shirt clinging to his body with the heat, he wondered if he had made a mistake with the order this time. He didn’t like mistakes. It was rare for him to make one, at least where the restaurant was concerned. But with the wedding stuff going on around him and the need for a new business partner on his mind, it was easy to get distracted. He only hoped that Alex would be able to bail him out.
Rushing up the final steps to the property Andras turned right, heading across the terrace and manoeuvring past the urns and ceramic pots spilling bright bougainvillea, towards the bar area where he was confident the hotelier would be found. Like himself, Alex owned this place, but with times tight, some owners had to be managers and workers rolled all into one.
A breath of relief left him as he saw his friend was behind the bar.
He hurried forwards, waving a hand. ‘Alex.’ Andras stopped at the bar, leaning his elbows on the countertop and relishing some time in the shade.
‘Yassou, Andras,’ Alex replied. ‘Ti kanis?’
‘Ime kala.’
‘Excuse me,’ a woman’s voice interrupted. ‘I don’t mean to be rude but I was here first.’
Andras turned his head, noticing for the first time that someone, a woman, was stood at the bar, just a little way away from him. She was maybe five foot nine, slim, with wavy blonde hair that just touched her shoulders and she was wearing designer-style jeans, a formal-looking top and a jacket.
He immediately held up his hands. ‘I apologise. I did not realise.’
She shrugged. ‘That’s OK.’
‘But if I could just—’ Andras restarted. In Greek he asked Alex for a favour.
The woman swung around then, fully facing him. She had blue eyes. Aquamarine blue eyes. Andras offered her a smile.
‘So you now know I was here first and you’re still going to carry on with your lunch order anyway?’ the woman stated.
He watched her place a hand on her hip.
‘I do not want to order lunch,’ he answered. He looked to Alex who was intently watching them, order pad and pen poised for action. ‘I need some bread.’
The woman cleared her throat loudly then spoke. ‘I would like to order two mezes please and a side of bread.’
Andras looked back to her. ‘You want a side of bread with a meze?’
‘You’ve ordered bread. Why can’t I?’
‘How much do you need, Andras?’ Alex asked him.
‘Whatever you can spare. I have three boats due in fifteen minutes.’
Alex smiled at the woman. ‘One moment please.’ He then headed off, out from behind the bar towards the kitchens.
‘Stop! Wait! You can’t just leave, I was first …’ the woman called to Alex’s departing form. She looked hot and now a little flustered.
‘You should take off your jacket,’ Andras suggested to her.
‘What?’ the woman asked, her eyes on him again.
‘It is hot today. Even for people who live here. You arrive here today, yes?’
The woman pulled a mobile phone out of her bag and began tapping the screen, then shaking it in the air. ‘What’s wrong with this place?’ she asked. ‘We’re on the side of a mountain. A side of a mountain should be able to get some sort of mobile phone connection.’
‘Maybe your phone is too hot too,’ he suggested. ‘Perhaps if you put it away, let it have a holiday, then when you are both cooler and more relaxed it will work again.’
She stopped shaking her phone, looked at it one more time then dropped it back into her bag with a sigh.
‘Andras Georgiou,’ he said.
She looked confused. ‘What does that mean? My Greek isn’t very good.’
He smiled. ‘It is my name.’ He offered out his hand as he watched her cheeks heat up.
Tess felt a roll of embarrassment flood over her, adding to her already sweltering temperature. She couldn’t shake his hand. Her palms were dripping like a melting Cornetto and she didn’t want to wipe them on her Burberry jeans. And, despite noticing he had that archetypal Greek jet-black hair – cropped short but not too short – olive complexion and rather nicely toned forearms, he was a queue jumper. Plus her man radar had been forcefully turned off. Had it been on though, he was definitely someone who would have got a second glance, maybe, if he hadn’t usurped her.
‘I’m here with my friend, Sonya,’ she told him. She looked behind, seeking out Sonya and the sunlounger she’d left her on. She couldn’t help but notice her friend was tying a bright yellow scarf around her head, probably to shield her red hair from the scorching sun.
‘It is nice to meet you. I hope you enjoy your holiday. There are many sights to see here.’ He smiled. ‘Perhaps it will make a change from just looking at a piece of metal made by Apple.’ He turned away from her.
She baulked. What had he said? Getting himself served before her and now insulting the fact she wanted to communicate with the rest of the world while she was here. Just who did he think he was?
The barman was coming back from the main building, a plastic tray of covered loaves of bread in his arms.
‘I need my phone for work,’ she stated, feeling compelled to explain herself. ‘I have a very important job that requires me to be … here, checking for … things … because if something happens then—’
He looked at her again. ‘An earthquake?’
‘No. I—’
‘A fire?’
‘I don’t think—’
‘A flood then? You must build the arc like Noah? As soon as an email comes through?’
‘I—’
‘Bread,’ Alex interrupted. ‘I could spare one more tray but give me a call after three.’
‘Perfect,’ Andras answered, taking hold of the tray. ‘See you tonight?’
‘Your mother has not booked every table for wedding guests?’ Alex asked him.
He smiled. ‘Not yet.’
‘Book me in,’ Alex replied. ‘When I finish here. Ten o’clock.’
Tess watched Andras balance the bread on one arm and wave a hand before turning away and heading off the terrace. What had just happened? This man – what had he said his name was? – had just got the upper hand with her. No one did that, personally or in business. She was always the one in control. She took a breath, looking for her drink that wasn’t there.
‘Now,’ Alex said, picking up his notepad and pen again. ‘Two mezes and some bread, yes?’
‘And two large cocktails please,’ Tess added. ‘The stronger the better.’ She swallowed. ‘And do you have Wi-Fi here?’
‘Yes, of course,’ Alex smiled. ‘When it is working.’
‘It’s not working?’ Tess exclaimed.
‘Not today,’ Alex admitted. ‘But maybe tomorrow.’ He busied himself with the drink-making. ‘You should try Georgiou’s Taverna for dinner tonight,’ he suggested. ‘I think you would like it. Dorothea makes a wonderful cuttlefish stew, and there is Wi-Fi.’
‘That works?’ Tess inquired.
Alex shrugged. ‘There is only one way to find out.’ He laughed, picking up the metal cocktail shaker. ‘It is on the beach, just down the hill.’