The Greek Villa: A beautiful and utterly addictive summer holiday rom com

Chapter 19

A drone of crickets in hedgerows fills the air as I walk past the village church and the grassy area that leads down towards the beach. Children are playing football and feral tabby cats lounge beneath trees with white painted trunks, a common sight, especially along village roads, so that motorists can see them in the dark, I’m told. In no time at all, I am turning into the road, where I see Phoebe standing outside talking to a couple of people. As I draw closer, I can hear their raised voices and unsmiling faces.

Phoebe shakes her head at one of them, and guides me inside, not before I hear one of the men saying, ‘Noise, too much noise.’

‘Oh my goodness, are they complaining about the building noise?’ I ask, mortified by the thought of having angered my new neighbours already.

‘Nai. But I tell them it will soon be done, do not worry, although maybe the builders could start work a little later?’ she suggests.

‘Oh gosh, yes, of course, I will speak to Dimitri. Maybe eight o’clock is a little early.’

I’m not sure I would like to wake up at that time in the morning to the sound of hammers, drills and cement mixers. I’m aware the builders have been starting almost as soon as the sun is up, sometimes not finishing until late in a desperate bid to get the work finished before they depart to their other jobs, but I don’t want to get on the wrong side of my new neighbours before the project is even finished.

‘People rise early in the morning,’ she tells me honestly. ‘But they drink tea, take early walks. They like peace.’

‘I completely understand. I will talk to the builders.’

I try not to get too upset about their comments, but I guess they have a point. The builders were already working when I arrived well before eight yesterday.

‘I hope you like pie,’ she says then, placing a huge filo pastry-topped pie down in the middle of the table.

‘I do, but I don’t think that’s like any pie I have ever made, it looks amazing,’ I say, taking in the thin golden layers and the delicious smell.

She cuts into it, and I hear the crunch before chunks of cheese, leeks and red onion ooze out as she spoons it onto a plate. There is a Greek salad and some bread too.

‘It’s as delicious as it looks, Phoebe,’ I tell her as I dive in. ‘It must have taken a while to make. Is there a herb in it?’ I ask, not quite able to place the flavour.

‘I have the time.’

‘Yes, I suppose you do.’

‘It is a good herb to use.’ She pours me a glass of lemonade.

‘Oh, I see, you have the thyme.’ I smile at the misunderstanding. ‘Well, it tastes lovely.’

‘I grow the thyme.’ She points to a terracotta pot on the windowsill, alongside a pot of basil.

‘Thank you for making me so welcome, Phoebe. I hope the other people in the street will be just as nice,’ I say as I polish off more of the delicious food. ‘I don’t want to upset anyone.’

‘Do not worry. The house was a mess and they want to see it fixed up, though they don’t want the noise.’ She rolls her eyes and laughs. ‘A lot of old people live on the street, but they like the young people here. They give the place energy,’ she reassures me.

We chat easily and she asks me about my family back home, and I find myself telling her all about my inheritance from my uncle Jack.

‘Which is how I came to buy the villa. I would never have been able to do that otherwise,’ I tell her as I sit back stuffed, having eaten every last morsel of the pie.

‘Your uncle has left you a great gift. He must have loved you all very much.’ She places her hand over mine.

‘He did. I have nothing but lovely memories of my uncle. Family is so important.’

‘Maybe we raise a glass to your uncle.’

‘That’s nice, we will. To Uncle Jack.’

She crosses herself and says a little something in Greek that she tells me is a prayer to keep Jack and her husband safe in heaven.

I head off later before it gets too dark, and as I turn a corner I run into Dimitri.

‘Kalispera,’ he greets me with that winning smile.

‘Kalispera. How are you?’ I ask.

‘I’m okay. I am glad I have run into you actually.’ He falls into step with me as I head towards my apartment. ‘It would seem we have been making a little too much noise with the building work. I have spoken to the neighbours, the elderly residents mainly, to let them know we will start work at nine o’clock. Is that okay with you?’

‘Oh yes, that’s wonderful. I was going to text you and suggest the very same thing. And are they okay with that?’

‘They are,’ he reassures me. ‘Well, it’s been a long day, I am off home for a beer. Actually, would you like to join me?’ He lifts the carrier bag he is carrying as we arrive outside my apartment.

‘What? Back at your place?’

‘Yours is closer, if you want to invite me in,’ he suggests, with a cheeky grin.’ Maybe you can tell me more of what you would like.’ After a pause, he says, ‘In the house.’

I hesitate for a second, but as the night is quite young, I agree. I have nothing else to do for the rest of the evening other than search for a TV channel that I can understand.

‘Sure. A beer on the balcony sounds good as it’s such a lovely evening.’

Outside in the balmy evening we sip our beers and take in the lights as they slowly come on in the bars and restaurants, a faint sound of music from somewhere. The sea is slowly darkening, with lights from boats gently dancing across the water. A plane is heading towards the airport, reminding me that there will soon be an influx of holidaymakers on the island.

‘I’m not sure I could ever get tired of this view.’ I sigh, content with food from Phoebe’s and feeling more and more mellow with every sip of beer.

‘It’s pretty special, isn’t it, but maybe we take everything for granted, even living in the most beautiful place.’ He takes a sip from his bottled beer and gazes across the rooftops.

‘Maybe. I know that we don’t always appreciate what is right in front of us, that’s for sure,’ I agree. ‘So, have you always been in the building trade?’ I ask, attempting to find out a little more about him.

‘Yes. It was a natural thing for me as my father was a builder, and I would help him when I was young. After school, at weekends, I learned everything from him. I am sure I am not as good as him though.’

‘Now you tell me,’ I joke.

‘Don’t worry, I am good. Of course, but my father is a master,’ he says proudly. ‘He has retired now.’

‘Does he fancy coming out of retirement? When the tourist season starts?’ I joke.

‘When I say he has retired, I mean from the building work. He will also be taking tourists on the boats when the season starts.’

‘Worth a try. So, what happens when the season ends?’ I’m intrigued to know.

‘We finish building projects, paint our houses, do a little sea fishing. When the real winter sets in we play cards and see more of our families. Well, most people do. I never refuse a building project in the winter though, although it can rain quite a bit.’

Dimitri explains that for a lot of people a summer income has to last throughout the winter months. ‘So, if the tourists don’t come, it can be a hard winter, but everyone helps each other out.’

That’s the nice thing about village life, I guess.

An hour later, I stretch out my arms and yawn.

‘That is, I believe, my cue to leave,’ says Dimitri, standing. His silhouette looks so good in the faint light on the balcony, his hair touching his shoulders, those broad shoulders, that full mouth. It’s definitely time for him to leave. I walk him downstairs from the upper floor.

‘Goodnight. See you in the morning,’ he says as I see him outside.

‘Goodnight. And thanks for the beer.’

‘The pleasure was mine.’ He smiles and as he strolls off I think of how much of a pleasure it was for me too.