A Greek Island Gift

Chapter 1

1

PORTSMOUTH, UK

‘So, let me get this straight… this guy is dead.’

‘Yes.’

‘And you’re a… what did they call it again? A benny fishy?’

‘A beneficiary.’

She, Molly Adams, was the beneficiary in someone’s will. And she had already explained all this to her best friend, Siobhan, earlier when they’d arrived at the restaurant. Now, while Siobhan was struggling with the basic contents of the solicitors’ letter, Molly’s mind was still desperately searching back through mental archives to try to fill in enormous gaps – like who was the Greek man who had died? And why was he leaving something to someone he didn’t know? It had to be a mistake, right?

‘Shall I order Prosecco?’ Siobhan asked, looking over her shoulder to try to catch the attention of the waitress.

‘No,’ Molly said straight off. She couldn’t afford anything more than a club sandwich at this newly opened hot spot, but the décor was perfect as a backdrop for Insta pics. And that was what she was currently spending some of her hard-earned cash on. The best backdrops and lighting a lunch could buy, and advertising she desperately needed if her make-up brand was going to one day rival Charlotte Tilbury.

‘Did you say yes?’ Siobhan asked. ‘Because this is a celebration . And I did say Prosecco, not champagne.’

Molly frowned. ‘It shouldn’t be a celebration, someone has died.’

It didn’t matter whether she knew this person or not. And she was certain she didn’t know him. She’d never been to Greece and she could count on one hand how many times she had been to a Greek restaurant. She didn’t remember any of the waiters’ names and it was highly unlikely that someone you had once smashed plaster plates with on a hen night was going to leave you something in their will. Besides, this man was actually Greek not fake Cypriot from The Greek Gringo in Gosport.

‘And I don’t have the money for Prosecco,’ Molly added.

‘I’ll pay then. Until you claim your inheritance. Because it’s cash, right? Does it say how much?’

The formal headed notepaper the letter was printed on now had glitter all over it. Molly knew it was Siobhan’s heavy-handedness with the product – the forty-eight-hour eye shadow pallet it had taken her months, and a crash course in emollients, to perfect before she even allowed it into production – but she hadn’t made a complaint. Siobhan was a good friend, despite being the clumsiest person Molly knew. Plus, Siobhan had a great Instagram following, had done modelling after college and was giving up any free time she had from the hairdressers she worked at to help Molly create banging content. Surely the letter being as perfect as the day it came off the printer wasn’t a prerequisite to claiming whatever she’d been left. If she really had been left something. There was still doubt in her mind.

She squinted at the slightly sparkling words on the letter again. ‘It says to call to discuss “my inheritance”. It doesn’t say anything about money. It does say “Greece” though. It’s written in English and I’m guessing the other paragraphs are Greek letters. I haven’t Google Translated it yet.’

‘They look like hydro griffins to me,’ Siobhan remarked. ‘Like the Egyptians use. Or, do you think it’s a scam?’ She gasped. ‘I hope it’s not a scam! Did you show it to your mum?’

The answer to that was the same as the Prosecco question. No.

She’d left the flat she shared with her mum, Janette, before the sun was up, to use the fitness equipment at the local park before the kids coated it in chewing gum and phlegm, or both. Then she’d ran to the Spinnaker Tower to take photos of her pure matte foundation against a pink sky. That image had one hundred and fifty likes already. Another five hearts given and it would be a personal best.

‘No. Not yet.’

‘Well, you should show it to her. Didn’t she used to work at an accountants?’ Siobhan asked, moving the fake fern plant they were using as a prop slightly to the left on the table.

Molly frowned, not really being able to make the connection. She looked at the letter again and the name of the deceased. Vaggelis Vlachos. Was there anything about the name that was familiar? He sounded like a character from The Durrells .

‘You could just call the number,’ Siobhan said, titivating the plant again.

‘No,’ Molly replied.

‘Well, why not? You have to call it some time.’

But that time wasn’t now and she really needed these photos to be better than they currently were. If Siobhan touched that plant one more time she might even scream. She carefully moved her make-up cases very slightly so the restaurant lights hit the edges.

‘Are you scared that you once snogged this Vaggelis in a bar and you don’t remember?’ Siobhan asked.

‘That has never happened to me but has already happened to you twice.’

‘Neither of them died though and Marcus falling down that manhole was nothing to do with me.’

Molly’s phone began to ring and it was loud. Too loud for a restaurant she was trying desperately not to offend with her very minimum spend.

Mum .

Why was her mum calling? Her mum should be at work and she couldn’t ordinarily use the phone when she was meant to be seeing to the drive-through needs of Costly Coffee customers.

‘OMG, you need to answer that, the vibe’s being killed and the manager is looking over at us. I think I might have to order Prosecco to keep her on side.’

‘Hello,’ Molly said, answering the call, getting up and walking towards the doors that led to the outside decking area.

‘Oh, Molly, are you OK, sweetheart?’

Molly frowned. She was doing a lot of frowning lately. She might well need to invent a whole other range of serum. But her mum’s tone was deep concern for some unknown reason.

‘I’m fine, Mum. Are you OK?’ Then she was struck with an awful thought. ‘Please don’t tell me you’ve lost your job.’

‘No… no, I’ve… just had some bad news.’

Bad news. This didn’t sound good. And now Molly braced herself for hearing something about their last living relative, Janette’s great-aunt, Maud, who was eighty-five and had an illness at least 85 per cent of the time.

‘It’s the very last time I listen to anything Lauren says about searching for old boyfriends on Facebook,’ Janette continued.

It wasn’t Maud. But Janette did sound very breathy, which was how she got when she was stressed. It was also how she got after too much cherry brandy but that couldn’t be the reason this early in the day.

‘Mum, what bad news?’

‘Oh, it’s silly really. But, you know how you remember people at a certain place at a certain time and you expect them to always be there, being the same, looking the same, like time has stood still?’

Had she been drinking cherry brandy?

‘Mum, whatever it is, please just tell me.’

Molly was irritated these photos weren’t going right. She was going to remove the fake fern completely in a minute. And she only had twenty minutes left before she was due back to work at the pharmacy and Siobhan had her next Brazilian blowout. But then she took a breath. This was her mum, the person she loved most in the whole world, and her mum was upset.

‘Because, the sooner you tell me, Mum, the sooner I can help,’ Molly added.

‘There’s nothing anyone can do to help him now,’ came Janette’s reply. ‘He was always so strong. That’s what I remember so vividly. He looked strong. Not the muscle-bound type but like he could definitely bench press a couple of sun loungers.’

‘Mum, please, tell me what’s happened.’

There was a sigh. ‘Well, it’s one of my exes,’ Janette said, with real raw emotion in her tone. ‘He died. A few weeks ago now. I looked him up and there was a photo of a death notice, stapled to a telegraph pole like they do out there. Then there were people commenting about when his forty-day service is and it made me so sad that Donna said to take a minute. And to be honest this news and the fact everyone is pissed off because it’s eighteen degrees and the cold drinks are still off the menu, it was too much.’

‘Molly! That table’s nearly done with their desserts! We can get photos with the good wallpaper!’

Siobhan had appeared by the door, yelling to the outside like a market-trader.

Had her mum said ‘died’? What was it with death today? Hopefully the death of her social media presence wouldn’t be the third thing… Wait, had she said ‘an ex’? How long ago was this ex? Anything circa 2000 and Molly was going to be very interested to know more.

‘Oh, Mum, I’m so sorry, that’s very sad. It must have been difficult to find out like that.’

Siobhan was now waving like she was setting sail on a brand-new luxury cruise liner.

‘It was hard… to think of that big, strong, Greek guy being not here any more.’

Molly’s skin chilled. Had her mum said ‘Greek guy’? Now this was sounding like way too much of a coincidence.

‘Mum, what was his name?’

‘What, sweetheart?’

‘The name of your ex.’

‘Oh, his name was Vaggelis. Vaggelis Vlachos.’