Game of Scones (11 page)

‘Um, yes. Of course,’ I’d said, with a cheerful tone. ‘And he’s loyal, caring…’ I went on to mention the surprise day out arranged for me today, hard as it was to keep Henrik’s intended marriage proposal secret. And perhaps it was just as well, as later today, after we’d had brunch and Henrik started up the engine of the Range Rover, he still hadn’t come clean and revealed the day’s plans.

Could I have been wrong? What if he and Stavros had been talking about something else? I concentrated for a moment. No – it all made sense. Henrik combining a holiday with a wedding fitted perfectly with his spendthrift nature. However, to my surprise we didn’t head north towards Kos Town, but turned onto the highway leading south-west and a ball of stress inside me deflated for one second as if I’d imagined this whole proposal thing. I swallowed, admitting to myself that this probably meant I wasn’t ready to say “yes”.

‘Tyrionitsa?’ I mumbled as we turned off the main road, to head towards this village. Over the years I’d visited this quaint little place a few times. A similar size to Taxos, it had a stunning beach. Uncle Christos would take me and Niko there to collect shells – and what an array of beautiful colours and sizes. I found spotted cones, speckled periwinkles and curvy whelks, all washed up onto the finest sand. I grinned to myself. With string, Niko made me a bikini top, cheekily using a small pair of scallop shells. He got a handful of wet sea grass down his top, for that.

As we neared, I squinted at a big board saying “Welcome to Tyrionitsa”. It was in the shape of a mermaid. Ah yes – the legend of the kind-hearted mythical creature, who had supposedly swum nearby and granted wishes to children with her magic comb. A local potter would tell us those legendary tales, whilst making ornaments out of shells. I still had one, back at the flat – it was a seagull with a cone shell for a peak and periwinkles for eyes. All of his goods represented animals or plants and weren’t like the gaudy souvenirs you could pick up in Kos Town.

Like Taxos, Tyrionitsa was practically untouched by tourism, so why had the council erected that cartoonish board?

‘Wow!’ I leant forward as the sea came into view, my turmoil about Henrik and Niko and Henrik and – you get the picture – forgotten. But I wasn’t admiring the frothy white break of the waves or speeding yachts, in the distance. My jaw dropped instead at the nearby sight of an ugly building. A huge concrete rectangle, it had a neon sign at the front bearing a picture of skittles and a bowling ball. Next to it was a square shaped construction with a sign saying “Disco Tyrionitsa”.

‘Impressive, isn’t it?’ said Henrik and a grin spread across his face. ‘Have you ever been here?’

‘Yes, but… I hardly recognise it, now.’

My jaw remained open as we drove into the town. Gone were the higgledy-piggledy blue and white houses and restaurants I remembered. Instead groups of young tourists milled in and out of glitzy burger bars. I wound down my window, to hear grinding pop music waft in from a swanky pub. Next to that stood an American style ice cream parlour and further along, a glass-fronted slot machine arcade. Finally we reached the beach. Oh my. Groups of youngsters clapped and cheered as one of many speed boats zoomed off, a paraglider attached to the back, rising fast into the air. Ice cream wrappers and beer bottles littered the sand. An old Greek lady, head to toe in black, shuffled past the queue, looking as if
she
were the visiting foreigner.

Henrik turned the car into a parking area to the right and stopped next to a coach. Day trippers were getting out. I put on my sunhat and dark glasses. As I opened my door and jumped down to the tarmac, a little girl pointed and asked if she’d see the famous mermaid. I followed her finger to a sign on the beach with an arrow faced to the right, saying “Mermaid Cove”.

Huh? A cove in Tyrionitsa? That wasn’t right. Legends said that the mermaid came to land where the jetty is built, on the main frontline of the shore.

Our car bleeped as Henrik locked the doors. He came around to where I stood and took my hand. Why on earth would he bring me here to propose? Thanks to its soulless makeover, Tyrionitsa had lost all its romance. Henrik led me up the high street.

‘Great to see this place buzzing, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘What do you fancy for lunch? A burger? Hot dog? I know, why don’t we just share a really big ice cream sundae? I’m still full after that huge brunch.’

Before I could express an opinion, we’d walked into the American ice cream parlour and sat down. It provided a welcome refuge from the afternoon sun. A woman dressed in a pencil skirt and short-sleeved blouse roller-skated (I repeat, roller-skated) over to us and Henrik ordered the triple chocolate fudge any day sundae. The stream-lined tables had gilt edges and photos of American movie stars, from the fifties, covered the walls. In the corner a juke box played Elvis Presley.

I was just about to feign indignation that he’d ordered for me, when I understood. Of course – he could hardly hide a ring box in his flimsy T-shirt or shorts’ pocket. Henrik must have come to Tyrionitsa earlier in the week to drop off the ring which, no doubt, would be served in the ice cream he’d ordered. My mouth went dry as the moment I’d worried about for weeks was just a few minutes away.

Okay, so the table wasn’t candlelit, with sophisticated glasses of champagne, but the parlour was fun. In fact a little bit too fun for Henrik… I studied his face. This whole trip was bizarre.

‘So…’ I smiled and took off my hat and glasses. ‘What are we doing here? Of all the places to visit in Kos, what’s special about Tyrionitsa – especially now?’

‘Especially now?’ His brow furrowed.

A group of young English men sitting near us laughed as one of them ran to the toilets, gagging, with dried vomit already down his shirt.

‘It’s hardly the picturesque fishing village I remember, with a carpet of pretty shells on the beach and traditional smells of garlic and oregano wafting down avenues.’ I pulled a face. ‘And did you see that tacky souvenir shop we passed outside?’ Through the window I’d seen what looked like mass-produced shell mermaid ornaments, covered in pink and blue glitter.

A muscle in Henrik’s face twitched as the waitress skated over and put the massive sundae between us, with two spoons.

‘Wow. That’s enormous,’ I said and stared at the dessert glass which held squares of fudge cake wedged between generous scoops of ice cream. On top lay rivers of dark brown sauce, sprinkled with white, dark and milk chocolate shavings.

Bearing what I hoped was a bright, cheery expression, I gazed at Henrik, then the sundae, trying to spot a diamond ring. Perhaps it would be wrapped in plastic. Or hidden at the bottom and we had to scoff the whole dessert before finding it. My stomach scrunched but tough luck, I told it – I’ll never meet a more suitable man than Henrik. Plus Niko has proposed to another and in any case, me and him? How could that work? No… marrying my Dutch boyfriend made sense. Urgh! This indecision was so unlike me. Any moment I could be faced with a ring, yet I still couldn’t swear what my answer would be.

‘You don’t approve of the village’s renovation?’ he said and picked up a spoon. ‘Surely your business mind sees the value. Tourists now visit Tyrionitsa. That brings in money. Puts food on the table in these challenging times… Picturesque views don’t fill empty stomachs, nor placate bank managers waiting for loans to be repaid.’

I looked through the window. ‘But all its character has gone… What about Greek heritage?’

Henrik snorted. ‘Oh come on, Pips, it’s not like you to be naive… You know most people come to Greece for the weather, cheap booze and great beaches. They don’t give a stuff about whether the souvenirs are made here or in Taiwan.’

I dug my spoon into a moist square of cake. My head knew Henrik might be right but my heart ached for the Tyrionitsa from my memories. Eventually I shrugged.

‘Well, I guess people have had to do what it takes and move forward to survive the economic downturn.’

‘Exactly,’ said Henrik and his eyes shone. ‘And talking of moving forward, I’ve brought you here today for a very exciting reason…’

This was it. I swallowed my mouthful, put down the spoon and wiped my lips with a napkin. I leant forward, noting the slight flush in Henrik’s cheeks and for a moment I felt a tiny surge of how I used to feel about him. He was a good man. He’d make a good husband. Mum and Dad would be pleased.

‘I’ve brought you here today,’ he said, ‘because…’

Oh, God… suddenly I felt sick. Deep breaths. Yes. Henrik was perfect. Me deciding to stay with him was in no way a knee-jerk reaction to discovering how much Niko has changed. More deep breaths. A proposal from such an honest, hardworking, caring man didn’t come along every day.

I forced a wide smile. ‘Because…?’

Henrik took my hand. ‘Dear Pippa… tomorrow at midday, in the town hall in Taxos…’

Here we go…

‘… will you help me reveal ThinkBig’s next big project to the residents?’

Huh?

His grin widened. ‘Rundown, struggling Taxos is set to become the next dynamic, euro-rich Tyrionitsa!’

I stared at him. Blinked several times. Opened my mouth but no words came out.

‘I brought you here today to show you how ThinkBig can breathe new life into your favourite Greek village. My meeting last Tuesday wasn’t really with a customer. I met up with Stavros, the mayor of Kos Town. I put the wheels in motion last January when I met up with him – we’re going to turn little Taxos into one of the most profitable, tourist-driven areas of the island, just like Tyrionitsa which is a success story of foreign investment.’

I don’t know what shocked me more – the lack of marriage proposal or horrific proposal for the destruction of Taxos.

‘Isn’t it brilliant?’ said Henrik, slightly less buoyant. ‘You don’t have to worry about your friends – next summer their tills won’t stop ringing with a constant influx of new trade.’

‘ThinkBig… developing Taxos?’

Henrik cleared his throat. ‘Yes. Permission is going through to approve a quad bike track on the land behind the church. In the centre we’ll construct one nightclub and encourage locals to buy the franchise for fast-food restaurants – otherwise we’ve a list of investors who’ll come up with the money and employees themselves. Plus a cocktail bar will be built in Caretta Cove, which will be the booking centre for all-day boat parties and drinking games. They’ll take place just off the shore.’

‘But… what about the fishing and sponge-diving? It’ll be ruined. And experts believe the endangered Caretta turtle might finally be considering the cove in Taxos again, as a nesting site.’

Henrik snorted. ‘I’ve read those reports and the marine people have no solid proof. Pippa! Your Taxos friends are barely scraping a living… you’ve now seen it for yourself. As soon as I came here in January, I knew Taxos would benefit from this type of project.’ He swallowed a mouthful of ice cream. ‘I can just picture Niko hosting parties, out at sea… There is no reason why anyone in the village should be worse off.’ He ate another mouthful. ‘And we thought signs in the shape of the Caretta turtle could be the theme for the village – like mermaids are here.’

I swallowed. Stupid me. I thought Stavros and he had been talking about the shape of a wedding cake.

My eyes narrowed as I thought back to their conversation that I’d overheard in The Flamingo Inn. The words “hurried through as a favour” popped into my head – no wonder Henrik hadn’t wanted me to look in that folder of paperwork he’d brought over to Greece with him.

‘So you only decided this in January…’ That explained why he’d come back from that trip all excited. He’d clearly struck the deal then, as all the extra phone calls he took at home started from his return. ‘How come the permission has gone through so quickly?’ I asked, the words sounding shaky.

Henrik shuffled in his seat. ‘Um… Stavros helped pave the way…’ His face broke into a smile again. ‘But you can see the advantages, can’t you? This development will turn the town around. You don’t need to work in a bank to work out how little profit the locals are turning over at the moment. Their tourist trade is zilch and locals can’t support the economy on their own…’

‘I know – on paper this is the answer to their problems but…’ I shuddered. ‘Those all-day boat parties… I saw a documentary about them last year. Within the space of a few months these changes would destroy Taxos’ history – the look of the shoreline… the old buildings which for years have withstood bad weather and forest fires… and as for the authentic, gentle ambience…’

Henrik shook his head. ‘I can’t believe I’m hearing this. You’re a businesswoman. You know ambience doesn’t feed hungry mouths – doesn’t secure a future. The residents are lucky that out of all the locations on Kos, ThinkBig has picked Taxos.’

I stood up. ‘Sorry Henrik – I need some fresh air.’ Without looking at him I went out of the ice cream parlour and sat down on a bench outside.

A few moments later Henrik sat next to me, his long legs stretched out in front. He squeezed my arm. ‘I thought you’d be more excited.’

‘So this was the special day out – to visit Tyrionitsa, as a snapshot of the future Taxos?’

His fingers intertwined with mine. ‘Yes. I’ve seen the concern on your face at the ramshackle sight of Georgios and Sophia’s restaurant. I thought you’d be pleased, and as a bank executive approve of and support this project.’

Pleased? No. Instead a ball of something unpleasant spun in my chest.

‘And when are the residents going to be told?’ I said, in even tones.

He cleared his throat. ‘They should receive their invitations today for the meeting, tomorrow, in Taxos town hall. We don’t give details, just say to turn up for exciting information about the village’s future.’

And I’d assumed they were wedding invitations.

‘If you thought I’d consider ThinkBig some sort of saviour, why have you held off so long telling me? All these months you’ve known, yet I’ve found out the day before everyone else? In fact why keep it such a secret from me and everyone, right until the very last minute? Clearly you knew this decision won’t go down well.’

His cheeks flushed. ‘No one likes change. But eventually the positives will win them over. I… I didn’t want to bother you with all this – you’ve had such a challenging year. And you needed to see Taxos firsthand, to understand just how much this project will benefit the area.’