Chapter 13
Kostas felt that sensation of loss of control racing through him like a hot drift car. He needed to stabilise, remember who he had made himself, not let this hotel employee get under his skin. Think that sentence again, Kosta. He never let anyone get under his skin.
He’d paid, left a generous tip and posed for a photograph with a customer who had asked him.
It was proof that normality was coming back, that sense of duty to actively seem like you were doing the right thing, behaving how the world expected you to.
But now he had to smooth things over with Faye.
Because she needed to believe whatever he told her.
She was standing by the water, sandals off, toes in the sea.
He could tell she was pissed with him. He didn’t blame her.
He had created this situation. Perhaps he should have waited for Stathis to arrive before he did anything at all, just stayed in his suite and ordered more room service. He moved towards her.
When he reached her he spoke softly. ‘Lypame poly.’
The phrase wasn’t just ‘sorry’, it was a very deep apology.
‘Kai e?ó,’ she answered. Me too.
‘I was rude,’ he continued.
‘You get to be rude,’ Faye said. ‘You’re the guest.’
He shook his head. ‘That is not how it is.’
She shrugged. ‘Dhen birazi.’
‘It doesn’t matter?’ Kostas asked. ‘Or you don’t care?’
‘I just think that ambitions can take different forms,’ Faye said.
‘Agreed.’
‘So, what might be a small ambition to you might feel like a big ambition to me.’
He smiled. ‘We are talking about small things and big things again.’
‘It seems to be a theme,’ she admitted, her tone softening a little.
‘OK, wait,’ Kostas said, bending and putting a hand on her shoulder for support.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Taking off my trainers. So we are equal with our feet in the sea.’
‘You don’t have to do that,’ Faye said.
‘I only do things I want to,’ he replied, unlacing his trainers. ‘Like you.’
As he pulled his trainers off, his fingers brushed the scar that tracked up from his heel for almost four inches.
It still showed. Would always show, as it had been opened up more than once.
It was a reminder of everything he had lost, but, in interviews, he told the press it was a reminder of hard work, dedication, a medal of honour to his years in the sport.
You only ever told people what they wanted to know.
‘Is that… You had an operation?’ Faye asked.
She had seen the scar. ‘Yes, my Achilles tendon. They say it will continue to fade, but, you know, I still wait.’
‘Is it still painful?’
‘I am Greek, remember?’
‘Oh OK, we’re playing that game.’
‘What?’
‘Hiding everything behind Balkan bravado.’
He laughed. ‘Balkan bravado.’
She closed her eyes then. ‘I have a scar right across my lower belly where they took my daughter out. Still sometimes I get nerve twinges.’
And now he was thinking about Faye’s lower belly and that was honestly spiking his libido into intense territory. He had to do something…
‘Sometimes it hurts. I tore the ligament twice and the second time, well, they also broke my foot.’
‘They?’
‘I was… attacked in Athens. Just some guys on the street.’
‘Kosta.’
‘Yeah, but it’s in the past now,’ he said dismissively, not wanting to be drawn on the subject. ‘But, you know, salt water is great for healing, right?’
He sunk his feet in the water then and, on instinct, he closed his eyes.
How long had it been since he had had his feet in the sea?
Then a memory started to come back to him.
Not of the last time he had been in the water but here at Kerasia, when he was younger, bare feet in the stones, eyes scouring for the best skimming ones, his grandmother yelling unnecessary instructions from a fold-up beach seat under a parasol with two broken spokes.
He opened his eyes then, looked at the stones nearby.
There was a good one. And there, another.
‘What are you doing?’ Faye asked him.
‘Have you skimmed stones before?’ There was another flat stone. He plucked it from the seabed.
‘Yes,’ Faye said. ‘I thought I was quite good, but the ex-husband who I haven’t killed always proved he was better.’
‘OK,’ Kostas said. ‘Let us see what you have.’
‘Well, just so you know, I can sometimes get four skips. I mean, four skips is the best I’ve done.’
‘Four skips is good.’
‘No promises. If I get it right.’ She bent down and picked up a stone.
‘And your husband?’
‘Ex-husband.’
‘Signómi.’
‘Regularly five skips. But once he got seven and thought he was God.’
‘Epta. Seven. OK.’
‘OK,’ Faye said, positioning herself side-on to the water.
‘Wait,’ Kostas said. ‘Not like that.’
‘What?’
He moved behind her and took hold of her arms. ‘Turn a little to the side, and you want to bring this arm back.’ He adjusted her stance and then he put his hand over hers.
‘Cup the stone with your fingers, like this. Then with your thumb on the rock, not around it.’ He swallowed.
Why were her hands so small? And so soft.
Why were these facts doing something to him?
He let go and took a step back. ‘OK, now skim it.’
She took a second, shifted her bare feet a little and then she swung her arm back and let it fire fast. He counted in his head. One. Two. Three. The pebble dashed across the surface of the clear water until finally it submitted to the deep.
‘Whoa! That was great!’ he exclaimed.
‘You sound so surprised. Didn’t you believe in me?’
He smiled. ‘I would not dare to underestimate anything about you. It is probably a clause in the hotel manual.’
‘It wasn’t the best I’ve ever done but it was good. So, now it’s your turn,’ Faye said.
‘Oh, I do not know if I should.’
‘What? Why?’
‘It is not good for a Greek man’s pride to be a loser, you know? When Balkan bravado fails.’
‘Well, we do not have to tell anyone,’ Faye answered. ‘And everyone else here is enjoying relaxation and swimming and paying no attention to us.’
‘I am not certain.’
‘So, a Greek man gives up? When the going gets tough?’ she asked. ‘I think that is worse than feeling like you have lost something. In fact, if you don’t try, you’ve already lost in my opinion.’
He was always going to skim but, for some reason, he didn’t want to do his best. He didn’t want to show off. He wanted to give her the victory. What the fuck was wrong with him? It was this island! It was already eating away at him like it had eaten away at his family…
‘OK,’ he said, taking a breath. He paused, flat rock in his hand, and then he launched it hard, snapping back his wrist.
The pebble rode the still surface of the sea at pace, bounce after bounce after bounce, until, finally, it disappeared from sight. He lost count after fifteen skips. It was a victory. Necessary in this moment. Did it feel good? No.
He smiled at Faye. ‘I guess the going got tough, but I got tougher.’
She smiled back. ‘A beautiful lesson for life.’
Her tone was dripping with sarcasm and it was no more than he deserved.
She moved out of the water and slipped her sandals back on her feet.
‘Just so you know, I didn’t not kill my ex-husband because I didn’t want to.
I decided it would be a lot of paperwork – because I wouldn’t have got caught – and I had this very, very small teensy tiny ambition to escape to a Greek island and start a new life.
So…’ She tapped his arm with her hand. ‘Really… I win.’
And, with those words imparted, she walked back up the beach.