Eight
Taverna Georgiou
‘I need a girlfriend,’ Andras stated. ‘And she has to have blue eyes.’
A bead of perspiration rolled across his forehead as he pulled off his shoes and settled himself down on the wooden dock next to his brother, feet hanging just above the sparkling water.
Spiros looked up. ‘Am I supposed to laugh now, Andras?’
He shook his head. ‘No. I am serious.’ He pulled in a breath.
‘You need a girlfriend,’ Spiros said again. ‘After eighteen months of showing no interest in anyone whenever we have been out, now you want someone?’
‘Yes. No. Not really.’ He was going to have to spell it out. ‘You were right about Mama’s plans with Marietta.’ He dipped a toe into the water. ‘They started talking about dinners and being together for things to do with the wedding and …’ He lowered his voice. ‘Papa Yiannis was there.’
‘Papa Yiannis was there?’ Spiros stated. ‘He was supposed to be meeting with me earlier and he did not come to the house.’
‘I’m sorry?’ Andras offered.
‘You think you have problems?’ Spiros said, shaking out the two large sheets of paper in his hands. ‘Look at these.’
Andras observed the paper, eyes trying to scrutinise the text written on them, bright sunlight preventing their reading. ‘What are they?’
‘What are they? he says.’ Spiros shook his head. ‘I take it you did not have these for your wedding.’
Andras swallowed. ‘You know that Mama did not want to acknowledge my wedding.’
‘These are my rules,’ Spiros continued. ‘This list’ – he shook his left hand – ‘are all the things I have to do before the wedding.’ He shook the paper in his right hand. ‘This list, much longer, are all the things I must make sure I do not do before the wedding.’
‘You would like me to look at them?’ Andras offered. He no more had the time to look at this than he had the time to have dinner with Marietta but, for now, his staff were handling the late-afternoon crowd.
‘No! I don’t even want to look at them!’ Spiros announced, his bare feet splashing in the water.
‘OK,’ Andras said. ‘We can do one of two things here.’
‘Go on.’
‘We can either begin to go through these lists or we can find me a temporary girlfriend.’
Spiros looked at him. ‘I don’t understand. What do you need a temporary girlfriend for?’ he asked. ‘Just spend some time with Marietta this week, then when the wedding is over things will die down.’
‘I can’t do that now,’ Andras told him.
‘Why not?’
‘Because …’ He knew how stupid this was going to sound. He sunk his feet a little lower into the water. ‘Because I told Mama, and Marietta, and Papa Yiannis … that I have a girlfriend.’
‘What?!’ Spiros exclaimed. ‘Are you out of your mind?’
‘It gets worse,’ Andras added.
‘How could it?’
‘I said she was English.’
Spiros slapped his own forehead, one of the papers fluttering out of his grasp and floating down towards the sea. Andras reached out, grabbing it quickly and pressing it to his chest to flatten the creases.
‘You are crazy. You lied to Mama, and to our priest!’ Spiros exclaimed. ‘Do you have a death wish?’
‘Not at the moment. Because if I die now, I fear I would end up straight down past the Earth’s core.’
‘Well, you just have to tell the truth. Before it’s too late.’
Andras shook his head. ‘No. I just have to find someone English with blonde hair and blue eyes who can pretend to be my girlfriend for … a short while.’ His thoughts kept going to the woman he had met at Alex’s apartments. The person he had somehow immediately thought of when he was creating this make-believe girlfriend. He didn’t even know her name.
‘Andras, it is almost my wedding,’ Spiros began. ‘I have these lists-to-do and lists-to-not-do, and you want me to find you a fake girlfriend with blonde hair.’
‘And blue eyes,’ Andras added. ‘Who is English.’
‘As I said: crazy!’ Spiros threw his hands up in the air.
‘Please, Spiros, anything you want.’ He seemed to be saying that a lot lately and having nothing to back it up. ‘Help me with this.’
Spiros shook his head.
‘You know English people,’ Andras continued. ‘Kira knows English people from her work cooking with the villa company.’
‘Andras …’ Spiros began.
‘It’s just for a week, until after the wedding.’
Spiros shook his head. ‘You are talking about a holidaymaker. Someone who has come to Corfu to relax, to get away from it all.’ Spiros kicked his toes at the water. ‘Why would someone on holiday want to spend a portion of it pretending to be your girlfriend?’
He sighed. Spiros made an excellent point and he had no reply. This was, of course, a mad idea. He should know better. He did know better. And he was being selfish. Thinking about his own somehow-turned-ridiculous agenda and not his brother’s wedding. He needed to just refocus, remember what was important, and keep pretending everything was all right. He looked out over the bay. Sunlight was dappling the aquamarine water; tiny silver fish darted about, just visible against the stones. He was still here. Almost still completely intact. That was the most important thing.
‘You are OK?’ Spiros asked him.
He nodded. ‘Sure.’
Spiros let out a sigh. ‘Well, Andras, your problem might be that you need a girlfriend, but according to this list, I need to find a donkey.’
‘What?’
‘One must be ridden to the ceremony and I must bond with it.’
‘Are you serious?’
‘Why would I joke about a donkey?!’
His brother was verging on sounding asylum-ready. He needed to take some of Spiros’s burden away.
‘I’ll find one for you,’ Andras said, patting his brother’s shoulder. ‘But, until then … it may not be big enough for anyone to ride, but you could definitely bond with it.’ He smiled. ‘I still have the tortoise.’