One Greek Summer Wedding

Chapter 8

Cara had lost track of how much she’d drunk. It seemed that after every forkful of food and accompanying sip of wine, Anastasia had topped up her glass. A dutiful hostess perhaps, but one whose aim seemed to be to get her plastered. The plentiful food had thankfully kept her a little level. Cara had opted for the pork cheeks with lemongrass, potatoes, herbs and foam from cabbage salad. It had looked decadent as well as healthy and it had tasted divine. Cara was fortunate enough to be able to access fine dining quite often when Margot entertained, but, still, this had been on another level.

Now they were inside an eclectic not-quite-a-bar, not-quite-a-theatre with round tables like that cabaret atmosphere Cara had envisaged. The tables were set out in front of a stage, the red velvet curtain lowered, its texture spotlighted by glowing lamps around the foot of the stage. It was all very speakeasy-meets-dancehall from its huge collection of spirit bottles lined up in illuminated cabinets behind the bar to the sparkling chandeliers hanging from the ceiling.

‘I read the glowing reviews online, but I thought my brother had written most of them,’ Anastasia announced, pulling out a chair. ‘But this place is great, right? You sit down here. I will get Wren and Kelly with us and the older women can have the next table.’

‘Oh, OK,’ Cara agreed, about to sit down. But she started to have second thoughts when she remembered what usually happened to those people who were sat closest to the action. ‘But perhaps we could sit at one of the tables further back?’

Anastasia laughed then. ‘That is what Wren would want! And she is the bride! No!’

There seemed to be no other choice but to sit down. As Anastasia began directing other members of their group to settle, Cara looked for her aunt. She’d barely seen her during dinner. Margot had plumped down next to Sofia at Rex Restaurant and that’s where she had remained. Not that Cara minded Margot catching up with an old friend – that was why they were here – but not knowing anyone, being in a new country, in a different situation, it was something she usually encountered with her aunt right beside her. She eyed the bottle of vodka on the table and accompanying shot glasses. No, more alcohol was not the answer right now.

Akis tore off his gloves and threw them down onto the table, fingers going to the knot at his chest that held his cape in place. ‘You will have to call Panos. I cannot perform tonight.’

‘What? Aki, don’t be crazy! Panos cannot play the piano,’ Horatio began, a stick of white face paint between his fingers. ‘And Panos’s moves are not yours. Plus, he does not have the eyes!’

‘Use the backing track. I cannot perform. My mother is out there! My sister is out there! Wren and her relatives are out there!’ He was struggling to unfasten the string.

‘Is that it? Have a shot of vodka.’ Horatio pushed the bottle across the sideboard he had mounted a mirror on. ‘There are no glasses tonight but measurements, as we know, are not real.’

Akis stopped trying to undo his cape and looked at his friend. ‘You knew they were going to be here tonight! Did you sell them the tickets?’

‘Why are we having this conversation?’ Horatio asked, checking his reflection and the stripes he was blending. ‘It is a hen party. Apart from tourists looking for a good time, they are the very backbone of our summer takings. Plus, you know I can never say no to Anastasia.’

Akis sighed. ‘I am beginning to think you can never say no to anyone.’

‘I think this may be true,’ Horatio agreed.

‘Well, what am I supposed to do?’

‘Do I need to walk you through the acts again? I know we have made significant changes since the last run in May but we have done many shows now and?—’

‘Very funny! So funny, Horatio! Because of course I meant the routine!’ He grabbed at his friend’s make-up palette. ‘My mother has today again made it clear her plan is to make me feel so guilty I have no choice but to join the priesthood.’ He put the brush to Horatio’s cheek, expertly applying a highlight of blush.

‘There is always a choice,’ Horatio said, gently turning in the chair and letting Akis continue with the make-up. ‘Except for whether you perform tonight or not. There is no choice in that. We need you, Aki. And, OK, I will admit, you are the best dancer, the favourite, the one every person here goes home to think about when they’re naked.’

Akis sighed. ‘So you think I put my family in jeopardy and ignore the fact that all the generations to come could be at risk if I don’t become a priest.’

Horatio held up a finger. ‘That only becomes a thing if you believe the curse.’

‘It doesn’t matter if I believe it. My mother believes it.’

‘And you are going to live your life for your mother? Do you hear yourself right now?’

Akis did hear himself. And it was so contradictory to everything he believed in. The fact that you only got one life and it should be filled to the brim with every experience you could reach and those you might need to make a leap of faith for. He wanted fast and furious, seizing opportunities, trying new things, not waiting for things to happen but making them happen…

‘You’re right,’ Akis said, nodding as he finished brushing Horatio’s face.

‘I am always right.’

‘If this curse even exists, how bad can it be? I mean, we are all predominantly still here. The things my mother has vaguely talked about, they happened decades ago.’

‘That could be because every other first-born Diakos son has become a priest in the recent past.’

‘No,’ Akis said, now doing the finger-pointing himself. ‘No, my great-uncle, Haris, he was the second-born son because Spiros died at only a few weeks old – he did not become a priest.’

‘And he is alive and well? His family do not have too many hard times?’

‘No. He is dead,’ Akis answered with a sigh. ‘But, you know, the investigation into the accident was inconclusive.’

‘Exactly!’ Horatio said, getting to his feet. ‘So, there is no proof. And, as we are on the subject of religion, there is no actual proof of God. Just alleged very ancient eye-witness testimony, so what does that say about the church?’

Akis sighed again. He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately. ‘Do not let my grandmother hear you say that. Despite being my biggest ally in me not being ordained, she does go to church every single week.’

‘Ah, about your grandmother,’ Horatio said, slipping himself into a leather waistcoat. ‘I might have given her a ticket for tonight too.’

‘Horatio!’

‘We agreed, I have never been good with “no”.’