Chapter 10
AVLAKI BEACH, AVLAKI
‘…and this is my paradise!’
Faye’s feet crunched over the stones as she stepped onto the beach and spread her arms wide like she was gathering up the whole cove in the biggest embrace.
It was the afternoon now, the sea was sparkling, there were a few boats bobbing to their left at the hire company and there were tourists stretched on loungers or towels, some with parasols fluttering above them in the afternoon breeze.
And across the pebbles was the area of Erimitis, paths to hike that took you into the heart of the unique Corfu countryside and all its bountiful glory.
As she enjoyed that feeling of deep joy in her belly and across her shoulders as she took in her favourite view, she realised there had been no reply to her declaration.
She turned around and saw Kostas, phone out, eyes on the screen – not on all the natural delights Avlaki beach had to offer.
It reminded her of one time Matthew had taken a Zoom call when they were meant to be teaching Saffron how to windsurf.
Faye had tried to help Saffron; they had laughed and cried, fallen out, made up and promised never to ever do it again and, when they got back to the beach, Matthew had still been talking about growth in pension pots.
Now, leftover annoyance from that moment nibbled at her.
‘Hey!’ she called.
She watched him lift his head from his device.
‘The view is here! You need to be on the beach to appreciate it properly!’
And there were many things she could be doing rather than showing someone around who was unappreciative, even though he was the one who had demanded this.
‘Signómi,’ he said. ‘Sorry. An email I needed to read.’
‘Needed to? Or wanted to?’ she asked. It had come out bitter.
‘Well,’ Kostas said. ‘It actually arrived when you were introducing me to the cats. What was the fat cat called again?’
‘He’s not fat. He’s big-boned.’ She paused. ‘He’s called Chungus.’
‘I didn’t want to read the email while Chungus was sniffing my hand as if it was lunch. He looked like he could eat my fingers and my phone.’
‘Do you hate cats?’
‘No. I love cats. Like you do.’
‘I didn’t say I love cats.’
‘Faye, you talk to them like they are your children.’ He put on a voice. ‘Yássou, Chungus mou. éla, Kyría Doh-Doh, koukla mou.’
‘It’s Mrs Po-Po, not Mrs Doh-Doh.’
‘Don’t tell her I got it wrong when you are rocking her in your arms tonight telling her a bedtime story like she is your baby.’
‘Maláka,’ Faye said on instinct. She regretted it instantly. In its most polite form it meant ‘dumbass’ but it could also be considerably more insulting, and it definitely wasn’t something to be saying to a VIP guest.
‘Wow, OK.’
‘Sorry,’ Faye said. ‘I didn’t mean that. It’s my… very bad Greek and—’
He laughed hard. ‘You speak very good Greek, Faye. And you very much did mean it. Let’s be honest about that.’
‘Can we not be honest and not tell Dimitria I called you a maláka?’
‘Are you not going to offer me a complaint form?’
She swallowed, not knowing what to say. She couldn’t seem to get an accurate read on Kostas Petsas and that bothered her.
She used to be so good at getting a sense of someone but, since the breakdown of her marriage, and the person she thought she knew best turning into someone unrecognisable, or perhaps finally revealing who he had always been, she sometimes doubted her instincts.
‘Hey,’ he said, waving a hand in front of her eyes like she was in a trance. ‘This is not how we should be in “paradise” as you called it.’
‘You don’t think it’s paradise,’ she answered him.
‘Convince me it is,’ he said.
She smiled. ‘Like a Jet2 holiday advert? Or the piece on the hotel website Dimitria paid way too much money for someone to write. Someone who had never been here.’ She sighed. ‘I’m not going to convince you it’s paradise.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because paradise is a depth of feeling, not something to be negotiated.’
‘OK, so why not tell me why this place is paradise to you.’
She shuddered. Too personal. Not something she wanted to give up to someone she couldn’t read yet. She’d have to lie. Artfully. Because one thing she could tell about Kostas was that he was smart.
‘It’s just beautiful, isn’t it?’ Faye said, spreading her arms again. ‘The beautiful blue sea and the beautiful blue sky.’
‘I do not think I have ever heard someone use “beautiful” so many times so close together.’
Smart. Tuned in when he wasn’t on his phone. And she had sold it very poorly.
‘Well, why don’t you tell me what you don’t like about it,’ she suggested, taking steps towards the water’s edge.
‘I do not think I said I did not like it. Just that maybe “paradise” was a strong word for a beach with no facilities.’
‘Facilities?’ Faye queried. ‘There are two tavernas and water sports – boats, paddleboards—’
‘Wow, two tavernas.’
‘What did you expect? A multiplex cinema and a valet for your car? This is Corfu, not California.’
‘Narrow-minded and uncompromising. Nothing has changed.’
‘So “paradise” to you is noise and options?’
‘And you get excited by a whole lot of nothingness?’
‘I take back my earlier apology,’ Faye snapped uncompromisingly. ‘You are a maláka.’
She watched those oddly green, crazily brown eyes flash.
‘Say that again. With your chest, Mrs Lawson.’
He was eye-to-eye with her now, laying down a challenge.
Well, she was angry. She loved this place.
It wasn’t only her paradise. It was her refuge and her sanctuary and she didn’t like the way this ‘celebrity’ was dissing it.
It was uncalled for and rude. He was rude.
But he was a customer and something was already afoot with her boss.
She needed to think with her head and not deliver with her mouth.
Mouth. Why was she looking at Kostas’s mouth?
Why was he still looking at her like that? Like that?
She jumped as the sea washed over her toes.
‘Ah, the sea of paradise just got your feet wet,’ he commented. ‘I think you have made it angry.’
‘I think you’ve made it angry.’
‘Have I made you angry?’
Control. She had played these games before when Matthew had said something deliberately galling at marriage counselling…
She smiled. ‘Ah, Mr Petsas, you think calling someone a maláka is me getting angry?’ She breathed in the sea air. ‘That is just the appetiser.’
‘Good,’ he answered. ‘Because I am hungry for more.’ He took a breath, pushed a hand through his hair. ‘Let’s go somewhere to eat.’
‘OK, which one of the only two tavernas?’
‘Not here,’ he replied. ‘Somewhere else.’
He started to walk back along the beach in the direction of the hotel.
‘You have a car?’ she called.
‘No,’ he called back, turning to face her. ‘I hired a motorbike.’
Of course he had. With Dimitria’s words from the other day about her summer needing an injection of pillion action, Faye walked to catch him up.