Those Summer Nights (Corfu, Greek Island Romance) (9 page)

P
anos was shaking so
much he needed the hit of the
ouzo
he was holding in his glass. Sat outside the bar on Acharavi high street he tried to focus on the comings and goings of the town – the scooters, the holidaymakers carrying buckets, spades and bottles of water, the locals trying to find somewhere to park – but all he could hear were Asp’s words in his head. Words that could harm him and his business. His gut instinct had been to react. To get straight off the phone from Asp and make another call, but he’d stopped himself from doing that, instead heading to the bar. And he’d done nothing else since, except stare at the alcohol in his glass and wonder what to do next.

His mother came to mind. Was Elpida right? Had it been months since he had spoken to her? He had been so busy and he told himself she was bound to be wrapped up in whatever John was doing. Or were both of those convenient excuses? A thought was niggling him that he wasn’t quite on top of his game right now. But did he really feel he needed to be before he spoke to his own mother?

He slipped a hand into the pocket of his trousers and drew out his mobile phone. He could make it quick, say he was just about to go into another meeting… he’d just ask her how she was and say he was fine… say he was good… better than good, then end the call.

He tossed the phone onto the table and drank the
ouzo
back in one gulp. He couldn’t do it and it was all his bloody father’s fault. Even dead he was directing things. Panos put the glass down on the table and sat back in the cream canvas-backed chair, shading his head under the large palm tree in the bar’s courtyard. The Corfu weather was so different to Crete. Crete was arid, desert-like in both its climate and its countryside. He always thought of Corfu as that little bit sweeter. The green hills, beautiful coves and picture-perfect scenes. As he focussed on the sea, just visible down one of the roads that led to the beach, he noticed her.

Across the street was the woman from the restaurant that should belong to him.
Imogen
. She was wearing very short denim shorts and a white t-shirt, her blonde hair scraped back from her face in a ponytail, flip-flops on her feet. Panos sat forward, narrowing his eyes to get a clearer view. She was making her way along the road, shielding her eyes from the sun, one hand on the strap of a bright yellow handbag. He took in her lean torso and those endless legs. A shard of lust hit him in the gut
and
a little lower. He swallowed. This was a good thing. It would be much easier to woo her if his body was agreeable to the idea. And
that’s
what he had to do today. He needed to regroup before acting on information from Asp. Paving the way to a development in Acharavi would go a long way to restoring his acumen.

‘Pano.’

Risto stood beside him.

‘There is a problem? Panos asked, ushering his cousin into the adjacent chair. ‘You are working hard at the restaurant?’

‘Yes.’ Risto wiped the sweat from his brow with his forearm.

Panos leaned forward and grabbed a napkin from the steel holder on the table and handed it to him.

Risto smiled. ‘I know the woman is not quite happy about the restaurant.’

‘I know this already,’ Panos said. ‘She told me this herself.’ He sighed. ‘What else?’

‘They are working hard to make this right. I do not think they will want to sell.’

Panos blew out a breath and wished his glass was full again. ‘You would like a drink?’ he asked his cousin.

‘How long must I work at the restaurant?’ Risto replied. ‘I want to work with you.’

‘Patience, Risto, you
are
working with me.’

‘But I… could help you with other things. With
your
business.’

Panos saw the eagerness and hope in Risto’s eyes. What real future did Risto have here in Acharavi, where tradition still ruled the day? What feel for modern business was Risto ever going to get if he stayed on this island?

‘That restaurant is going to
be
my business,’ Panos stated. ‘What you are doing there is very important.’

‘I know but… there is something else,’ Risto admitted. He dropped his eyes to his lap.

‘What?’

‘
Yiayia
is there.’

Panos gritted his teeth. ‘What do you mean she is there?’

‘At the restaurant. She arrive, she make lunch, she clean kitchen … she has only just left to go and make food for her dinner party tonight.’ Risto swallowed. ‘She is helping them.’

That was the very last thing he needed.

‘She has invited them to the dinner party tonight,’ Risto added.

‘What?’

‘The Mr Harry and Imogen,’ Risto clarified.

Panos nodded as thoughts flooded his mind. He would make sure he was seated next to Imogen, start the charm offensive. She had said it wasn’t her decision to make, but he had a feeling that wasn’t the case.

‘Good work,’ he said to Risto, patting the man on the arm before drawing his wallet from his trousers. ‘Now, more drinks, yes?’

From its position on the table his mobile phone began to ring. It was Tomas. He let it ring.

‘Are you going to answer it?’ Risto asked.

He nodded, counting in his head until it had trilled five times. He snatched it up.

‘Dimitriou.’ Slowly, a smile crossed his face. ‘I am so pleased to hear that, Tomas. Of course we can meet.’

Perhaps today was not going to be a complete wash-out after all.

T
he lunch had been
out of this world. Creamy sour yoghurt with cucumber and fresh mint on thick hunks of bread. She’d almost forgotten how good Greek food was. Afterwards, Elpida had insisted on spreading the smelly garlic paste on the blemishes. Apparently it was another Greek remedy for soothing ailments. Personally, Imogen thought it was a placebo: you were so distracted by the smell you worried less about the bites. But it was nice, being taken care of, and with a few careful dabs of concealer, she didn’t think the bites were that noticeable.

‘Ta da!’ Harry announced, coming out of the bathroom and into the main apartment.

She observed him, her mouth opening in shock and surprise. ‘You’re wearing a tuxedo. You brought two sleeping bags and a tuxedo in your luggage?’

Harry smiled. ‘Well, I was in the Scouts like Tristan.’

She immediately felt underdressed in her peach cotton knee-length dress.

‘What’s wrong?’ Harry asked.

‘Nothing, I just… feel a lot less cocktail bar than you.’

Harry laughed then. ‘I didn’t put this on for anyone else. I hardly get to wear it now I’m not working for Norton Aerospace.’ He nodded to himself. ‘We used to have quite some parties there.’

‘Yes, you did,’ Imogen agreed. ‘I had to pick you up from some very odd places after those parties.’

‘The police station,’ Harry said, grinning.

‘Blackpool Tower was the strangest location. Tied to a donkey,’ Imogen reminded him.

‘Milo.’

‘You remember the donkey’s name? That’s impressive.’

‘No.’ Harry shook his head. ‘It was Milo’s stag night.’

‘In London.’

‘Yes, well, you know how the boys got carried away.’ He pulled at the lapels of his jacket. ‘So, will I do?’

Imogen smiled. He was buoyant. The most buoyant she had seen him in such a long time.

‘You look very handsome,’ she answered. ‘So will
I
do? Bites and eau de something-you’d-eat?’ She put her hands on her hips and adopted a confident pose, her hair swishing in its high ponytail.

For a split second Harry looked sad. ‘Janie always wore perfume that came in a funny-shaped bottle.’

‘Well, I have perfume on too, but it isn’t working on the edible remedies Elpida plastered all over me.’

‘I spoke to Janie earlier,’ Harry stated. ‘She asked if I was having a relapse.’

Imogen closed her eyes. She had hoped Janie would hold in her concerns and leave dealing with the situation to her. ‘She cares about you, Harry, that’s all. And that’s what you want, isn’t it? Her caring is a good thing, a positive thing. Coming to Corfu was a bit of a shock for us all, that’s all.’

Harry snapped his head forward, his eyes locking with Imogen’s. ‘I don’t regret buying the restaurant,’ he stated. ‘Not for one minute. And after all the work we’ve done today… I can see so much potential for us, Immy.’

She knew he could. The excitement and sense of achievement was just pouring out of him. She thought about Panos Dimitriou’s offer for the restaurant. She should really tell him. She opened her mouth to speak.

‘I know you’re excited too,’ Harry continued. ‘I saw you getting all Nigella over those recipes we looked at today.’ He grinned. ‘Lamb shanks and fresh figs.’

It was true. The internet had provided them with a wealth of information and inspiration. She had enjoyed thinking about the possibilities but still wasn’t confident of her ability.

‘We’d better go,’ she said, eager to change the subject. ‘Have you called a taxi or are we taking the car?’

Harry shook his head. ‘Neither. Terry, that’s the man with the van, he said we can borrow it for a couple of weeks while we’re moving things about. I need to get used to driving it. I’m going to take us in that.’

Suddenly Imogen felt sick. ‘You are?’

He nodded. ‘Might be a good job you aren’t too dressed up and smell of garlic. Terry uses it for fish.’

‘
T
his is nice
, isn’t it?’ Harry remarked, slamming the door closed and looking up at the property.

Yes, it was nice. It was more than nice, it was Greek-style palatial. The beautiful stone, the shutters at the windows, the flourishing window boxes. It looked just like something Jasmine Harman would show an escaping couple from the UK if they had a mammoth budget on
A Place in the Sun
. Her eyes went to the sleek Mercedes they’d parked alongside. Panos’ car. Dark, attractive, polished… just like the man himself. Someone cleared their throat in a rather obvious manner and Imogen swung around, cheeks flaming, as Panos stood at the threshold of the house.

‘Hello,’ Harry greeted, thrusting his hand out.

‘Good evening,’ Panos replied. ‘It is nice to meet you again.’

Imogen stepped towards him, her hand outstretched. ‘Hello.’

‘Good evening, Imogen,’ he responded, ignoring her hand, instead drawing his face level with hers and kissing her on both cheeks in turn. He stepped away, looking a little taken aback, his fingers at his lips.

‘Gosh, I’m sorry,’ Imogen stated. ‘I got bitten… by mosquitoes and your grandmother, she…’

He held his long, olive fingers under his nose then sucked the tip of his index finger. Her stomach dipped as a small smile formed on his lips.

‘Lemon and garlic,’ he said, nodding. ‘She did this to me all the time when I was younger.’ He smiled. ‘Come in, please.’

Suddenly it struck her all she was carrying was her yellow handbag. They hadn’t brought anything. No chocolates or wine. She felt like the worst guest ever.

‘Here we are, Panos,’ Harry said, pulling a bottle of red wine out from under his tuxedo jacket. ‘I don’t know if it’s any good but I suppose when we drink it we’ll find out.’

Panos took the bottle, looked at the label, then moved his eyes back to rest on Imogen. ‘Full-bodied,’ he said, nodding. ‘A hint of spice and excellent… with white meat.’ He tipped his head a little. ‘I look forward to enjoying it.’

He was flirting with her. And how did it make her feel if he was? Intimidated? A little excited? She couldn’t be sure.

‘Ah! You are here! Excellent!’ Elpida appeared, hands in the air, an apron over a black sequinned dress, platforms on her feet that added at least six inches to her height.

‘Thank you so much for inviting us,’ Harry stated. ‘And for all your help today with the boys.’

‘I wish to embrace you, Harry, but my hands are covered with aubergine.’ Elpida wiped them on her apron. ‘Pano, make Harry and Imogen some drinks.’ She screwed up her face. ‘Where is Risto?’

‘He is setting the table like you asked,’ Panos responded. There was that smile again, directed straight at her. She was glad Harry was driving.

‘Who else is coming tonight?’ Imogen asked, heading towards the open-plan kitchen and Elpida.

‘Just one other couple and my good friend, Cooky,’ Elpida responded.

‘As her name suggests, Cooky, is a little kooky,’ Panos told them.

‘I tell you before! That is not why she has this name,’ Elpida exclaimed. ‘She work at the bakery with her father. You can guess what it is she made there.’

‘Cookies?’ Harry asked.

‘Exactly,’ Elpida announced. ‘Now, all of you, shoo! Pano, get drinks and take our guests outside.’

The entertaining space at the rear of Elpida’s property was like a little piece of show-garden heaven. A large decked area decorated with cream and toffee-coloured urns full of trailing flowers and miniature ferns were dotted around the space that led down to another, bigger paved area. On this patio Risto was putting the finishing touches to a long wooden dining table. As Imogen made her way across the cobblestone slabs she admired the pretty beige-and-light-blue-striped tablecloth with matching napkins in sparkling wine glasses, polished silverware and two cream glass lanterns, a pillar candle glowing in each. Around her, golden fairy lights had been hung from the boughs of the fruit trees that created an avenue onto a grassy channel that boasted spectacular sea views at its end.

‘Wow!’ The exclamation came from Harry and it was by no means an exaggeration. The outside area was nothing short of beautiful. Everything about this garden was special. The view, the elegant table setting, the scent of citrus, jasmine and lavender in the air.

A buzz from a mosquito-like creature snapped Imogen back from her reverie. She shook her head to encourage it to flee.

‘On a clear day you can see the houses in Albania.’

Panos’ voice was close to her ear and the deep vibrations of his tone, plus the musky scent of his cologne, caused her to shiver. She turned her body and offered him a quick smile. ‘It’s a beautiful garden.’

He was standing so close she found it hard to concentrate. The muscular outline of his upper arms visible through his shirt, the cotton brushing over an athletic frame…

Imogen cleared her throat, wishing she had a glass to hold. She curled her fingers around the handbag on her shoulder.

‘Risto, you did some great work today,’ Harry greeted, holding his hand out to the younger man.

‘Oh, this is nothing,’ Risto answered, bowing his head a little as he took Harry’s offering.

‘The restaurant is looking better, yes?’ Panos asked them both. He plucked a bottle of wine from the container on the table and began to fill a glass.

‘Yes, it is,’ Harry enthused. ‘Already it’s starting to look like I dreamed it would.’

‘That is good,’ Panos answered, looking once again to Imogen.

She knew what he was waiting for. He was waiting for Harry to say something about his offer, or for her to admit the offer hadn’t been put forward. Instead she turned a little and watched her brother. His face was lit up like the Las Vegas strip – bright, vibrant, glowing like a dozen neon signs. So much enthusiasm, drive and passion. And, as she watched him sipping at his drink, standing tall in this foreign country, a Corfu business owner, she was flooded with pride. Seeing Harry this way filled her with pure joy.

‘It is a lot of work though,’ Panos continued. ‘Not just to clear but to make good again.’ He looked directly at Imogen. ‘You wish for white wine? I am sorry, I do not ask.’

He had the most amazing eyelashes over those dark eyes and that rich olive skin that had tried to soothe her injured hand the other day. It was a second before she realised she hadn’t answered his question. ‘White’s fine, thank you,’ she replied.

Panos held out the glass to her and as she accepted it, their fingers connected and her breath caught in her throat. Although she knew nothing about the man, as he held her gaze she silently cursed her susceptibility to his good looks. Drawing her hand away, she put the glass to her lips and focussed on the stunning views.

P
anos felt confused
. The attraction he felt towards Imogen was interesting yet completely ill-placed and it was causing him unnecessary distraction. She was beautiful, even with the mosquito marks on her face, this natural English woman in a dress he was trying his best to see through. But tonight, after wine, good food and his smooth tongue, he would get on with setting out his proposal. This didn’t have to be complicated. He was a businessman and the transaction was simple. He would offer them more money to give the restaurant to him and they could be on a plane back to England in the morning. Tomas was selling him his taverna. He had agreed a price and had arranged for his lawyer to draft the papers. It was the first property under his control on the strip and it wouldn’t be the last. Dimitriou Enterprises was coming home.

‘
Kalispera!’
The deep Greek tones were bellowed like the foghorn of a ship and Panos didn’t need to look to know that his grandmother’s best friend, Cooky, had arrived.

‘Where is the new blood?’ Cooky exclaimed. ‘Hello, darling! Aren’t you a handsome one?’

Panos grimaced as Cooky pressed her well-lipsticked lips to Harry’s, then moved to greet Imogen. The woman was as tall as Elpida was small – a little and large combination that had worked for over fifty years. She was wearing a gold sequinned dress that left little to the imagination, her curls of dyed red hair bouncing on the décolletage of her ample bosom.

‘I am Cooky!’ she announced, taking Imogen’s hand and kissing the top of it. ‘Risto! Where is my drink?’

Panos stepped forward, plucking the bottle of white wine from the cooler again. ‘Good evening, Cooky. You are looking very beautiful tonight.’

Cooky grimaced, looking him up and down from his leather shoes to his dark hair. ‘You are here alone?’ she announced as more of a statement than a question. ‘You are not married?’

He smiled. ‘You propose to me… again?’

She had asked him this question so many times. Her face remained expressionless for a good five seconds and then she had the good nature to laugh and launch herself into his arms.

‘How are you, my beautiful boy? It is so long since we have seen you!’ She stepped back, turning towards Harry and Imogen. ‘He hides away on another island making his millions and doesn’t remember where he came from.’

Panos gritted his teeth and tried to hold on to his smile. Cooky knew far too much about his past, courtesy of his grandmother.

‘Millions?’ Harry remarked.

Panos waved a hand. ‘Cooky likes to exaggerate,’ he said quickly.

‘You don’t have millions by now? What are you doing all the work for if not to make millions?’

He took a step towards the decked area. ‘Excuse me, I think the other guests are here.’