Chapter 5
5
VIRGINIA’S, KASSIOPI
Christos was exhausted from the fevered chatting of his mother and sister. It never stopped and he had somehow forgotten exactly how intense it could be. He sipped at his ice-cold fruit smoothie and looked out across the harbour. It was beautiful here. When you were brought up here, saw the same things each and every day, you lost the appreciation, maybe didn’t even acknowledge it in the first place. But, as he watched tourists taking photos, marvelling at the colours of the water, the flowers, the cocktails, he began to tune in differently. It was good to revisit the old, it made you recognise its attributes yet also embrace how far you had come.
His eyes then fell to Vaggelis’s boat. What an eyesore right next to sleek yachts and Filippos Boats’s fleet to hire. He was surprised there wasn’t an order out to have it removed. Well, removed it soon would be. As he looked at the tangle of nets and broken baskets lying cluttered on the deck, he noticed a group of women stopping by the boat and seeming to pay it particular attention. Maybe it was a topic of fascination – the fact that it looked so unlike anything else around it. The group were now taking photographs. Surely this wasn’t a usual occurrence. He stood up to get a better view. They seemed to be chatting and pointing and looking for a while longer, and then they turned towards the bar. Just tourists enjoying what the village had to offer – peace, tranquillity, sunshine and?—
‘Excuse me! Could we have three large Alfa beers please? I mean, parakalo .’
For a second, Christos was thrown. Were they speaking to him? It was a woman with pinkish, reddish hair saying the words but all of the group were looking at him… like he was a waiter ? Maybe it was his white shirt…
‘Did I say the wrong word?’ the woman asked. ‘It’s been a long time since I’ve been in Greece. Was it parakalo or was it efharisto ?’
‘Mum, it doesn’t matter, does it? I’m sure the waiter speaks English. You speak English, right?’
‘ Ne . Yes,’ Christos replied. Why hadn’t he said he didn’t work here? Possibly because he was now transfixed by this woman. She was younger, a similar age to him, with blonde hair that was short yet still long and eyes that weren’t quite blue, weren’t quite grey. He had to stop looking. He put his attention on the third woman who was walking towards a vacant table by the edge of the view.
‘Good,’ the blonde-haired woman said. ‘So, we would like three large beers, please.’
‘Alfa beer,’ the other woman interjected.
‘Do you have those?’ the blonde-haired woman asked.
‘We have Corfu beer,’ Christos found himself replying. We ? He did not work here!
‘Is it nice?’ the blonde woman asked.
‘Yes,’ he answered. ‘Very nice. There are a few varieties, but I would recommend, as you were asking for Alfa, that you try the lager.’
Now he was making recommendations! What was wrong with him? He had somehow taken ownership of this situation and it didn’t even belong to him.
‘OK, we will have three of those, please.’
Before he could say anything more, the women moved towards the table their friend had secured at the edge of the outside area with harbour views, obviously expecting him to sort this out. He shook his head. He had only been here a few days and he was already being made to do things that weren’t his job. The sooner his godfather’s service was done and the estate was finalised he would make sure it was many many months before he came back here.
‘Three Corfu beers,’ Christos said a few minutes later when he brought the drinks over, still apparently playing a role.
‘Oh, thank you, love. Do we still pay at the end? Or now?’ the pink-haired lady asked.
‘When you are finished. Ne ,’ he said, putting each drink down on a serviette doubling as a beer mat, in front of them. Then, for some unknown reason, he stood and watched them take their first sip of the drinks, like he was expecting an immediate Trip Advisor rating. What was he doing?!
‘I am Christos,’ he blurted out.
‘ Yassas ,’ the pink-haired lady greeted, froth from the beer on her top lip. ‘I’m Janette. This is my daughter, Molly, and?—’
‘I’m Siobhan. I’m very very single right now.’
‘It is nice to meet you. Harika ,’ he replied. ‘So, I could not help to notice that you were looking at the old boat over there.’
‘Oh, yes,’ Janette said. ‘We took some photos. It was bringing back memories for me. I used to ride around on that many years ago.’
‘Really?’ Christos asked. This was giving more than casual holidaymaker vibes now. They had visited Kassiopi before, or one of them at least. ‘How so?’
‘Well, the usual way, my love. You get on the boat, someone with experience starts up the engine and then you go for a nice jaunt out to sea.’
‘Mum,’ the woman called Molly said. ‘Sorry, she first came here years ago and she thinks she’s been on that boat. I told her that, given the length of time that’s passed, the boat she would have been on would have been more disintegrated than the wreck of the Titanic .’
He smiled. ‘It is close. This boat has not had enough attention for quite some time.’
‘Why is the boat now sounding like my vagina?’ Siobhan asked. She hiccupped. ‘Wow, I think this Corfu beer is strong.’
‘I’m telling you,’ Janette said. ‘That’s the boat. I have photos of it. Probably loads on those digital cards no one can seem to work.’
‘To me all the boats look the same,’ Siobhan carried on. ‘That one simply looks like a much shoddier version.’
‘Who was the captain?’ Christos asked. ‘If you remember who the captain was. You said it was a long time ago.’
‘His name was V?—’
Molly jumped in. ‘It was such a long time ago and Mum doesn’t have the best memory when it comes to fine details, you know. Like the Greek words. And the boat rides here are not the only boat rides she’s been on. There have been many captains if you know what I’m saying.’
‘Molly!’ Janette exclaimed.
Had the woman with the pink hair started to say a word beginning with ‘v’? Had they been about to unleash some lore about Vaggelis? Ugh, why did he care? Tomorrow, when the will was read, he had no doubt that his mum, his sister, perhaps him too, will have been left all the mess his godfather had created, and then he could get back to doing what he did best which involved him not being here at all.
‘I will have you know that my memory is perfect,’ Janette said. ‘And I remember that Va?—’
‘Look!’ Molly exclaimed. ‘Look at that butterfly!’ She pointed towards some planters.
Hmm. Now Christos’s interest was piqued. This was a distraction technique. Molly didn’t want her mother elaborating on her memories of the village. Why?
‘I can’t see a butterfly,’ Janette remarked, looking at the flowers.
‘Thank you so much for the drinks,’ Molly said, addressing him directly with those eyes. ‘It was nice to meet you.’
‘ Ki ego .’ This conversation was over.