Game of Scones (8 page)

He jerked his head, beckoning for me to join in. I beamed and gave the thumbs up. You know what? I intended to enjoy this holiday. Blocking all thoughts of Niko, I headed outside. In the corner, just in front of an olive tree, stood two men playing different-sized, pear-shaped string instruments – next to them sat an old woman, clapping. Georgios took his left arm away from Cosmo and made a gap for me. Fortunately, with my height, I was able to drape my arms across their shoulders, unlike the other women who made do with waists. I couldn’t stop smiling as the music slowed for a moment and then got quicker and quicker, until I was almost out of breath. The footwork I’d learned during my childhood quickly came back – as did chef Georgios’ signature aroma of herbs.

I admired the other women’s colourful skirts decorated with rich floral patterns and laced headscarves. Gasps of breath escaped my lips as the circle moved quicker from side to side. By now we just held hands, at shoulder height, feet moving backwards and forwards and then around to the right… Finally the music stopped and we all clapped.

‘No more… I need a drink…’ I said.

‘Bah, you youngsters have no sticking power,’ said Georgios and chuckled. He took out a handkerchief and wiped his perspiring bald head.

I headed indoors, longing for an icy orange granita. However, a hand touched my shoulder. I turned around to see Niko. Before I could object, fingers curled around mine and led me outside to the front of the taverna and the street. I tugged my hand away as the humid night air enveloped my body. The moon shone brighter than a torch in a power cut. Stars peek-a-booed and a deliciously sweet scent wafted over from the white-flowered jasmine plants, either side of the taverna’s entrance. Talk about a perfect romantic setting. I should have been out here hand-in-hand with Henrik… shouldn’t I?

‘Just hear me out,’ he said.

‘Look, oughtn’t you get back inside to see Leila? Mind you… she looks perfectly happy playing with those children.’

His face lit up. ‘Yes. Leila will be a wonderful mother.’

I nodded, knots in my stomach at the pride that crossed his face. Did he think I’d make a good mum?

I shook myself. ‘Sophia was saying earlier that she helped her parents work the land and looked after neighbours’ small kids – sounds like you’ll both be happy staying in Taxos, like you always imagined…’

He shrugged, obviously still waiting for permission to talk about Henrik. I gave a big sigh.

‘Look, just spit it out. But you’ve only got two minutes. Then I’m going back inside.’

Niko sat down at one of the nearby outdoor tables. I sat opposite him, my breathing back at its normal pace. The taverna’s blinds were closed. The street was empty apart from a couple of stray cats and invisible chirping cicadas.

‘No interrupt then. Please,’ said Niko and took a deep breath. ‘Henrik tells me he’s going to Kos Town on business tomorrow.’

‘Yes – to see a client for lunch and close some big deal.’

‘That’s what he said to me too – but looking decidedly suspicious. And despite my polite questions, would say no more.’ Niko ran a hand through his black curls. ‘So when he suddenly hurried out to the patio, to answer his phone, I innocently stood nearby.’

‘You eavesdropped?’

‘Yes. The dancing had not started then.’ He pursed his lips. ‘And it is a good thing I did. Henrik called the person on the line Stavros – so it is the mayor. They have this meeting tomorrow at one o’clock, in some English pub called The Flamingo Inn. I’ve seen it, not far from the famous Hippocrates Tree.’ Niko stared at me. ‘Henrik went on to say the word Caretta. Then mentioned ThinkBig, the name of his employer.’

‘So? Look, how long’s this going to–’

‘He also said… ’ Niko fiddled with his leather bracelet, ‘“Pippa must not find out.” Something about you loving marine life…’ His eyes widened. ‘I’m convinced ThinkBig has bribed the mayor into helping them get permission to develop on the nature reserve, on the east side of the island – it is one of the few places in Kos where the endangered Caretta turtles still nest every twelve months. Experts think they are considering nesting here in Taxos again, in the cove – but that may not be for another year or two. Until then, every nesting site needs protection.’

My jaw fell open. ‘There’s no way Henrik would push for the decimation of a reserve. And corrupt or not, surely even the mayor wouldn’t ever get permission?’

‘You don’t understand, Pippa – things have changed since the recession. New laws have been brought in that allow rich foreigners to invest in and develop protected land, as long as they replace it by building a reserve elsewhere. It happened three years ago on the southern tip of the island, near Kefalos. The beaches are perfect for surfing, so a holiday firm was allowed to take over that part of the beach and nearby land, at the expense of the turtles and peacocks. The nesting season was ruined and no turtles have been reported since, anywhere along that part of the coast.’

My chest tightened at the way Niko’s eyes glistened – he loved sea life as much as me. But Henrik knew my views on protecting the natural world. I couldn’t believe he’d be part of such a damaging programme. Yet an uneasy sensation rippled down my body, from head to toe. Henrik was ambitious, even ruthless when it came to business… Like the time one deal meant a forced purchase of several houses in a town up north. One elderly couple had appealed the decision but lost. Henrik seemed to have no qualms that ThinkBig had stolen many of their family’s memories, by knocking down their home – all he’d focussed on was that they’d been given a more than generous payment for their small bungalow

I stared at Niko… On the other hand, why would my childhood friend make this up? Nausea briefly hit the back of my throat at the thought of builders tearing apart the safe haven of those magnificent turtles. But I owed my loyalty to Henrik who, above all else, was always honest.

I tutted. ‘This is what happens when people eavesdrop – you don’t get the full story. I’m sure there’s an explanation for all this that isn’t sinister.’

‘You should accompany him to Kos Town tomorrow, Pippa. Pretend to go shopping but really spy on him. This project needs to be stopped before it gets underway.’

I scraped back my chair and stood up. ‘Are you completely mad? You may disrespect and deceive Leila behind her back, but my relationship with Henrik is based on openness and trust – you ought to try it sometime.’

‘So, you told him about our butterfly kisses?’

‘No… you see… they were your idea and… took me by surprise. What’s more, I’m not engaged, whereas you… ’ Urgh! How dare he smile? At least I’d already been having doubts about Henrik, whereas he’d committed to a future with his girlfriend. Although a wave of discomfort washed over me, as if I’d been caught out.

‘Pippa…’

I shook my head. ‘You have insulted my boyfriend – and tried to lower my standards to yours, by saying I should spy. I don’t understand all this trouble-stirring between me and Henrik.’

‘But–’

‘I don’t know who you are any more. From now on, leave me alone!’

Chapter Seven

Long arms snaked around my body as I stood in front of the kitchen sink. Gentle kisses trailed a path, up and down my neck. Hands covered in bubbles, I turned around to look up at those familiar slate eyes, crinkling at the corners. Henrik leant down but jerked away, laughing, when I put a dollop of soap suds on his nose.

‘We’ll be late for your lunchtime meeting, if you keep this up,’ I said.

‘Then stop looking so damn gorgeous,’ he said huskily and firmly held my waist.

I smiled sheepishly until our lips met, and told myself that the irrational, crazy, all-encompassing, exciting sensations I’d felt when just millimetres from Niko’s face, had simply been a blip. My love for Henrik was solid. Still a bit tingly. And I could rely on him not to deceive me. That magnetised feeling with my old Greek friend was clearly driven by nostalgia for our former friendship.

‘Sure you won’t get bored shopping, whilst I meet my client?’ he said, after I pulled away to carry on washing up.

I shook my head and quickly turned back to the sink. Damn Niko for making his Greeklish accusations swirl around my head last night. On the way home from the taverna, I’d subtly questioned Henrik about his appointment, but he still said little and talked of meeting a client and not the mayor. Is it possible, that straight-up Henrik would lie to me? Would decimate a nature reserve, despite having a girlfriend who loved and respected wildlife and had done for years? I emptied the washing-up bowl… No. I couldn’t believe it. He probably just assumed I would get bored by hearing the details of his meeting. We were on holiday, after all.

Grumbling about having to put on a suit and tie in such hot weather, he left the lounge. I took the kitchen rubbish out to the bin that stood on the front porch. In the fresh air, I squinted for a moment, enjoying the warmth and sounds of a Greek summer morning – the honking of geese from a flock flying above and chug of a diesel-smelling engine as a battered car passed.

It took a while to spot the figure standing by the terracotta pots full of bubblegum-pink flowers. I sucked in my cheeks and shut the door behind me, forcing myself not to admire the cut of blue jeans and snug fit of the short-sleeved checked shirt – nor the casual, confident manner.

‘What are you doing here?’

Niko removed a long blade of grass from his mouth and held out a plastic bag. ‘Here – borrow Leila’s big floppy red sunhat and matching shawl. Henrik no recognise you then. Stick them in a rucksack until you get to Kos Town.’

‘Huh? Look, I told you–’

‘Pippa. You think I’ve changed – but inside I’m still your loyal friend. And you may dress fancy, but will always be Tomboy to me – Tomboy who cannot resist a mystery and who fights for the good. I know you’ll accompany Henrik today.’

‘Have you gone mad? You and I… we are different people now. Honestly, aren’t
I
the one who suffers from sunstroke? And you think a giant red hat is discreet? Forget “Pippa”, you may as well call me Poppy.’

He shook the bag at me, but I simply put the rubbish into the bin, replaced the lid and folded my arms.

‘Look… Pippa… You’re angry – about Grandma. Plus I can tell you’re sad about crumbling Taxos. And I think you’re horrified about the idea of the Caretta turtles losing their home. Just like years ago when we found tourist boys abusing stray cats. You took photos and insisted we report them to the police. And remember feeding Grandma’s fresh batch of bread to the baby seagulls we thought looked hungry? I know you still care about things like that.’

‘Don’t assume anything about me – especially that I believe your suspicions about ThinkBig.’

‘I assume you want to know the truth – like me. Most of the times we got into trouble, when younger, was because we curious people, no? Like us staying out past midnight to find out why empty wine bottles kept appearing in Uncle Demetri’s boat.’

I couldn’t help returning his smile. We’d stumbled across an amorous local couple who couldn’t find privacy anywhere else, at night.

‘Not that it’s any of your business, but I
am
going into Kos Town with Henrik – just to shop.’

Niko stared at me for a moment, then nodded. ‘Still… you suffer from the sun – borrow Leila’s hat. You won’t find a bigger one anywhere.’

I gazed at him for a few seconds and took it. ‘Okay. Thanks. But won’t Leila need it? Today’s due to be hotter than ever.’

‘No – when I called around, she was ill in bed – some sort of, um, insect…’

‘
Bug
, you mean…?’

‘Yes. She doesn’t look at all well and won’t get up today. I will drop the hat and shawl back tomorrow.’

Weird that he wouldn’t call around to check on her that evening, after work. But then, I thought later, as Henrik drove the thirty minute journey to Kos Town, Niko did live just a couple of streets away from Leila – if anything was wrong he could be there within minutes. Unlike my set-up, back in London, with no family or close friends within a twenty mile radius of our Notting Hill apartment. On the plus side, we had cinemas, sports centres, cosmopolitan restaurants and all the designer stores – although I kind of liked the random shops along the seafront of Kos Town.

After we’d parked, I kissed Henrik goodbye. He had to drop into the ThinkBig offices before his appointment. Firstly, I made my way to the harbour and hoped a stroll by the seafront would clear my head – help me decide just how much I trusted the man I might marry. Instead I just stood and admired the impossibly blue sky and swaying palm trees, well suited to those over-the-top glam music videos Mum watched, from the eighties.

Eventually, I left the bobbing fishing boats and headed for the shops and markets in the buzzing centre. Mmm, the aroma of squishy honey pastries and coffee smelt much better than sea salt and gutted mackerel. I enjoyed browsing through rails of clothes and ogled jars of shells, sponges and ceramic pots outside an array of gift shops. Boutiques overflowed with scarves, sandals and shawls, whilst souvenir shops sold blue and white painted pottery, fancy olive oils and herbs as well as bottles of jasmine perfume – all of which, my mother would have called “tat”. Plus pushy waiters hovered outside restaurants, trying to attract tourists towards the enticing smells of oregano and garlic.

I couldn’t be in a place more different to sleepy Taxos and disliked veering around puddles of sick left by drunk tourists who’d enjoyed Kos Town bars the night before. Yet I couldn’t stop staring at cash being exchanged at tills. This was how business should be during the summer months.

After treating myself to a pair of white roman sandals, I headed back to the seafront and studied the array of different styles of boats in the harbour. My gaze stretched to faraway yachts, their white sails erect, like the predatory fins of giant sharks (thanks again, Steven Spielberg). To my right, at the shore, stood the famous Castle of the Knights… I’d visited it several times as a child, to run amongst the ruins for just a few euros.

A distant clock chimed – half past one already. By now Henrik could be starting his main course. I’d already spotted The Flamingo Inn back in the town centre – it stood in between two other English pubs that had televisions on, blaring out sport. Was I really going to do this? Spy on the man about to ask me to become his wife?