Those Summer Nights (Corfu, Greek Island Romance) (15 page)

‘
W
hat is this one
?’

Harry popped another tit-bit of the meze into his mouth and closed his eyes as if trying to work out the flavours.

‘That is
keftedes
,’ Elpida answered. ‘It is made with lamb, garlic, breadcrumbs, spices… very easy to make and delicious.’

‘You’ve said every one of these recipes is easy to make,’ Imogen said.

‘It will be, Immy,’ Harry said. ‘She’s a great cook, Elpida, just a bit out of practice.’

‘It looks complicated,’ Imogen protested.

‘Pfft!’ Elpida exclaimed. ‘Pano could make this… In fact, Pano
has
made this. Like
baklava
. When he was a child he loved to cook.’

Imogen looked for the Greek who hadn’t returned to the table since their drink at the bar. Her eyes found him. He was sat at another table with Risto, chatting to a Greek man and two very attractive women about her age. It irked her and she hated that.

‘Do you think a choice of four starters is enough, Elpida?’ Harry asked, picking up his pen and writing on his pad of paper.

She nodded. ‘Yes, this is where I make mistake with my restaurant. You need very good dishes you can do very well. We make them individual to Halloumi so no one else on the beachfront has the exact same thing as you. And we make specials.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘No one makes
keftedes
the way my grandmother used to make it.’ She lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘But you can.’

Harry beamed. ‘What do you think, Immy?’

What did she think? At the moment she was worried they might be serving food in between pneumatic drilling and wrecking balls. She supposed the workers might want lunches and Greek beer. She looked to the platter. ‘I liked this one.’ She pointed at a triangle-shaped parcel of pastry. ‘But I’ve never been very good with pastry.’

‘Ah!’ Elpida said. ‘
Spanakopitakia
. They make this here at Sunset with feta cheese and spinach.’ She whispered even lower this time. ‘For you I think we make this with halloumi, feta, spinach and a little garlic and rosemary.’

‘I like the sound of that,’ Harry said, making more notes.

Imogen watched one of the women with Panos get up out of her chair and drape an arm around his shoulders, leaning into him like it was the most natural action in the world.

‘What do you think, Immy?’ Harry asked again.

‘What? Sorry… I didn’t hear what you said.’ She flushed. What was the matter with her? Why was she compelled to look at Panos Dimitriou? Because he was her nemesis or because he sent her feminine zones into a frenzy?

‘I think we’ve got our starters.
Spanakopitakia
,
keftedes,
saganaki –
because
what you made for lunch the other day was delicious, Immy – and soup of the day. I think it’s a nice mix,’ Harry explained.

‘And you have meat and vegetarian,’ Elpida added.

A loud, excited laugh filtered over from the table Panos was sat at and Imogen couldn’t help but look. The woman now had both arms around Panos, embracing him from behind as he sat back in his chair. She had a perfect figure and long dark curls.

‘I do not like that man,’ Elpida stated, her eyes following Imogen’s line of vision.

‘Who is he?’ Imogen asked. The man looked like a cross between Buddha and Gio from the Go Compare adverts.

‘That is Alejandro Kalas. He is on the
simvoulio
here. The council,’ Elpida explained. ‘Sometime he do a lot of good for the village. Other times he make a lot of money for himself.’ She frowned. ‘I can guess Panos will be speaking to him about his plans for loudy shouty disco party palace.’

‘Are those his wives?’ Harry asked, looking as well.

‘No,’ Elpida said shaking her head. ‘They are his daughters. Cleo and Margot. Both of them spoilt little princesses who would not know a day of hard work if it came up and said “boo” in their faces.’ Elpida sighed. ‘There is his son, Vasilis. Now he is a good man. He run a boat company out of Kassiopi.’

‘Would the councillor be a good man to get to the opening night of Halloumi though?’ Harry suggested.

‘I do not know if
good
man is the right word but yes, wherever he go there will be photo opportunity and newspaper reporter.’

‘Perhaps Panos can introduce us,’ Harry said.

‘I would tread a little careful, Harry,’ Elpida stated. ‘Once you get into bed with a man like this there is no getting out of it again. And, I like to know who exactly is plumping my pillows.’ She nodded, reaching for her wine goblet. ‘And also with a man like that you never know which side of the mattress he is sleeping on.’

The bed analogy gnawed at Imogen as she watched Panos and the not-so-ugly sisters. Was that what he was doing now? Having apologised and asked about Harry was he back plotting and scheming? The monstrosity he intended to build would need council planning but if this Alejandro was corrupt like Elpida was suggesting, who was to say what he would push through? And who would really want to eat a quiet meal next to a throbbing nightclub?

A shiver ran through her as visions of Club 18-30 holidaymakers lunging onto Halloumi’s terrace in a conga line came to mind, vomiting into plates of
spanakopitakia
while Harry rocked back and forth in a corner. She just couldn’t let it happen. She stood up without saying a word and manoeuvred out from behind the table, making strides towards Panos, Risto and Alejandro and his family.

E
very time
there had been a break in the conversation Panos had looked for Imogen.
A broken glass
. Why had he confided in her like that?

He felt Cleo’s arms go around his neck and wanted to shrug her off but her father was a useful man to know. They had already spoken on the phone about plans for an entertainment venue in the area. They both thought Acharavi could be better than it was.

He turned his head and came eye to eye with Imogen, stalking her way towards the table. She stopped a pace away, smiling and turning her head a little to greet each diner with a hello in turn. She didn’t look to him. She looked directly at Alejandro.

‘Good evening, Mr Kalas. My name is Imogen Charlton.’ She extended a hand to the large Greek man.

Panos watched Alejandro move her delicate hand to his wide, greasy mouth, pressing a kiss to her skin. He could hardly bear to look.

Vasilis Kalas got to his feet and held out his hand to Imogen. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you. You are from England, yes?’

Imogen smiled, moving her hand from father to son. ‘Yes, I’m here with my brother. He’s bought the old Dimitriou restaurant on the beachfront in Acharavi.’

‘Oh, Pano, I thought you were going to make that place into one of your clubs!’ Cleo squealed in a mix of excitement and disappointment, all the while pawing at his shoulders.

He didn’t know what to say. Imogen was looking at him now, almost as if she were goading him to make a reply. She had told him exactly how much the restaurant meant to her brother and he was back in fifth gear with his plans.

‘My congratulations,’ Vasilis said. ‘Welcome to the island.’

Vasilis’ eyes were lingering a little too long on the scalloped neckline of Imogen’s dress for Panos’ liking. He sat up in his chair, shrugged off the hands of Cleo and opened his mouth to speak.

Imogen jumped in. ‘Mr Kalas, I just wanted to assure you that the new restaurant is going to be a real credit to the beachfront. My brother and I have a long history with food… and he chose this area in particular because he’s visited this part of the island several times before. It’s the perfect mix of relaxation, Greek tradition and, of course, peace and tranquillity.’ She paused and turned her eyes to Panos. ‘I know there are some people who think the area needs to liven up a bit…’ She looked back to Alejandro. ‘But Elpida Dimitriou tells me you’re always a man who has the interests of the village at heart.’ She smiled. ‘We’re looking forward to becoming part of the community and, with all this rumour of development, I just wanted to introduce myself and to say that… well, I really want you to be a man who wouldn’t mistake making quick Euro with better plans for long-term regeneration.’ Her gaze locked with his.

The table fell silent and Panos just stared at her, her impassioned face stoic, her presence bigger than even the rotund councillor. She clasped her hands together in front of her. She had just warned a council member about his stance on development and she was standing there looking as innocent as Maria from the
Sound of Music.

Vasilis started to clap and gestured to his sister, urging them to do the same. Within seconds they were all clapping and looking slightly bewildered.

‘Hear, hear,’ Vasilis announced, banging a fist on the table. ‘Did you hear that,
pateras
?’

Alejandro looked stern, his fingers going to his thin, curled moustache, and turning the ends. Then Panos watched him grin and a belly laugh erupted from deep in his core.

He wagged a finger at Imogen. ‘She is right,’ he stated. ‘She is absolutely right.’ He picked up a wine glass and wafted it in the air. ‘Only at today’s meeting we talk of a new community market. It is wonderful,’ he stated. ‘Wonderful.’

Community market
? What was this? Who needed a community market? There were shops and supermarkets down the whole main street of Acharavi. Panos reached for a goblet of wine and squeezed his hand around it. Imogen had done this for one reason and one reason only. To put a halt to his plans. To publically tell the councillor she would be opposing any development, that his grandmother would back her, that the village didn’t want or need it. That making money was not a priority. But what did she know? She’d been here
days
. She didn’t know what Acharavi needed. She didn’t know how desperate things had been in Greece.

‘What sort of community market?’ Cleo asked, moving from behind Panos to sit down next to her father. ‘Designer clothes from Corfu Town? Jewellery?’

He couldn’t listen to this anymore. He was being thwarted at every turn by this Englishwoman, this foreigner who knew nothing about the island, who knew nothing about business, who… made him want to… He swallowed, his eyes moving over her as she chatted to Alejandro and Vasilis. The fact that she always angered him only heightened his desire. He could have any woman he wanted. What was it with her? Was it perhaps because she hadn’t fallen at his feet? She spoke her mind. She had loyalty and deep-rooted values. She was beautiful.

Suddenly the lights on the terrace dimmed, allowing the candlelight from each glowing jar on every table to become the focus. Then spotlights picked out the musicians on the stage. Lute, guitar and
bouzouki
started to play.

‘Imogen,’ Vasilis called over the music. ‘You would like to dance?’

‘I… don’t really know any Greek dancing,’ she replied.

‘I will teach you,’ Vasilis replied.

‘Risto, dance with me,’ Cleo said, moving to tug at his arm.

‘And me!’ Margot added, standing up.

As Panos watched his cousin going off to dance, he felt an uncomfortable jealousy begin to spread over his body and he lifted himself up off the chair. A meaty hand met his arm and he stopped moving, turning his head to face Alejandro.

‘I know you would like to talk to me about your entertainment complex,’ the man began.

‘Yes, I do,’ he said quickly, adjusting his stance and getting his mind back in business mode. ‘I have agreed a deal to buy Tomas’ Taverna and I am meeting with Lafi from Avalon this week. I am confident both properties will be under my control very soon.’

Alejandro shook his head before splaying a hand out in front of him, indicating the people around them. ‘I am not getting any younger, Pano. And as you get older you come to realise what is important in life.’

‘Growth,’ Panos interjected. ‘Investment in the future.’

‘Yes,’ Alejandro agreed. ‘But perhaps not in the way you mean. Not at the expense of history or tradition.’

Panos let out an exasperated sigh of discontent. ‘You thought nothing of tradition when you let my father build the largest hotel on the island a few miles from here.’

‘That was on wasteland, Pano. It did not meet with any resistance from the community. It didn’t spoil anyone’s view and would not make too much noise for residents,’ he responded. ‘And it was going to bring jobs to the area.’ Alejandro poured some more wine into his goblet.

‘My complex will bring jobs to the area,’ Panos insisted. He took a breath. ‘And I am not my father.’

‘I know this. But you want to build your disco bar and carting track right on the beachfront.’

‘It has to be there to capture the highest footfall. It is the obvious location.’

‘Not for the people who live there.’

‘It has worked well on Crete and Rhodes.’

‘I could see this working in Kavos, Pano, not Acharavi.’

‘It
has
to be Acharavi.’

‘Why?’

It was a question he didn’t want to answer because he knew it was nothing about business and all about the past. He didn’t want to fail at a project in Acharavi like his father had. Alejandro was supposed to be his golden ticket to a yes from the council. He could see it in the man’s eyes. All his plans were starting to crumble away in time to the Greek folk song playing in the background.

His gaze moved to the dancefloor where a few diners were already up, circling around the tiled floor to the moderate tempo. And there was Imogen, with Vasilis Kalas, hands together, moving slowly, bodies close. Her cheeks were as ruby red as the wine, a smile on her lips, her hips shifting in time to the thrum of the stringed instruments. He swallowed.

‘How long are you staying on Corfu?’ Alejandro asked him.

He shrugged. ‘I do not know.’

‘I like the idea of the community market. It is something different.’ Alejandro drank some wine before continuing. ‘It is not just about shop-holders taking their things onto stalls, it is about villagers making their hobbies and traditions a business.’

‘I do not understand,’ Panos replied.

‘Take your grandmother,’ Alejandro said. He leant back in his chair and looked over to where Elpida and Harry were sitting, still engrossed in the leather bound recipe book.