Chapter 56
FAYE’S APARTMENT, HOTEL MARGARITáRI
Faye’s stomach was already so tight in anticipation of the evening, and not in the beautiful butterflies way, but in a way that was a precursor to anxious nausea.
She paced in the small space and checked her watch again.
She had invited Kostas here, into her home, while Saffron spent the rest of the evening in Maddie’s room at the hotel hearing all about her trip to Paxos.
So many thoughts and feelings were bumping and bashing around inside her and she needed to keep her cool.
She was the very personification of calm and reasonable in her job, and she had worked hard in perfecting being level and evenly balanced after the breakdown of her marriage, so she could cauterise her feelings until she got to the bottom of all this.
If necessary, anger and tears could come later…
Then there was a knock on the door and her heart hammered an uncomfortable anthem in her chest. OK, breathe.
‘Hey,’ Kostas greeted when she opened the door.
‘Kalispéra,’ she replied.
God, he looked good. Fresh light jeans, a plain black T-shirt, beard immaculate, hair even more so…
But she had to remember he was currently about to become Corfu’s Most Wanted if these plans were facts.
And they had to be facts. He just happened to be very good at acting – perhaps that could also be part of his future too.
Maybe it already was, another thing he hadn’t told her…
He leaned in fast and she wasn’t prepared for his lips meeting hers. It was just a greeting, but one with enough promise that those little sparks of joy danced inside her before she could fire-hose them.
‘I know you said drinks but if I drink, I need to eat so…’ He shook a plastic bag in front of her. ‘I have a box of kalamákia and… popcorn and… mint chocolate chip ice cream.’
Oh God. Why had he done that? Obviously because he was accomplished at manipulation. People who had plans for Greek island domination had to be skilled at getting exactly what they wanted.
‘Oh, wow, OK,’ she sputtered. Her acting skills would not be getting her into RADA any time soon.
‘Are you OK?’ he asked, putting the bag on the countertop of her kitchen area.
‘I… am fine. But you know what won’t be fine?’ she asked. ‘This ice cream if I don’t get it in the freezer quickly.’
‘Yes, I agree. Please.’ He took the tub from the bag and passed it to her. ‘Do you want me to get plates for the kalamákia? Or shall we eat them out of the box like we are at a panegyri?’
‘Well, I got wine that’s definitely better than retsina from a panegyri.’ She got the bottle from the fridge.
‘Plates then,’ Kostas said, moving around the kitchen.
‘They’re over—’
‘Is OK,’ he answered. ‘I see them.’ He reached them down and began arranging everything on the small table-cum-island like it was the most natural thing in the world to be here in her home, her tiny but much-loved sanctuary that he was going to have torn down into nothing but rubble.
It didn’t make sense, unless it was actually every single other thing she had thought she had learned about him that didn’t make sense.
‘There is something wrong?’
Caught up in her thoughts, Faye hadn’t realised he was looking at her. Rather intently, like he could read her mind. Perhaps she shouldn’t beat around the kalamákia and get this truth-seeking mission going.
‘I don’t know,’ Faye said. ‘Is there?’ Now she was sounding as cryptic as Katerina had earlier. ‘You said, last night, there was something you wanted to tell me.’
She watched his body language, ready to pick up on anything, because she had obviously missed a whole lot since their very first encounter. He was still looking at her, no visible change in its fervent nature…
‘Yeah,’ he answered. ‘But I don’t think we need to talk about that right now.’ He held out his hand. ‘Shall I pour the good wine?’
Evasive. She passed the bottle over and watched him take two glasses off the shelf and begin to fill them.
‘Well, if it’s important then I want to listen so—’
‘I went to see my grandmother again today,’ Kostas said, passing her a glass.
‘Is she OK?’ Faye asked him.
‘She can apparently live a wonderful and complete life without a coffee machine or a television,’ he said, picking up a souvlaki stick and tearing the meat off with his teeth.
‘Wow, that is some real pure grounding advice there.’
‘And she is right, maybe?’
Now he was looking at Faye as if he really wanted her to consider her life without access to Netflix or Nescafé. Was his gigantic holiday complex going to serve series boxsets by osmosis and freddo cappuccino by IV?
He sighed when she didn’t immediately reply and put the bare stick down on the plate.
‘I bought her this stuff and, I don’t know, I think my grandmother hates things that make you have to use your brain less.
No television – you have to find other things to look at or give your attention to – the outside, books, games, people from every walk of life.
No coffee machine – well, you have to make coffee the same way they have been making it in Greece for decades.
Maybe the changes we make should reflect a life that still needs us to interact with it more, not less. ’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Yeah, I know I’m not making sense right now but, Faye, I promise you, in a few days, I am going to tell you exactly what my plans are here in Corfu.’ He smiled. Warm. Genuine looking. ‘And it will mean I have to spend more time here, you know.’
She swallowed, the vision of those reams of maps and plans and architects’ drawings raining down on her brain like someone had made them into Polaroids and ripped them up into confetti. Spend more time here. Destroying with diggers.
‘With you,’ Kostas said, his tone soft and deliciously sexy. ‘I hope.’
Faye couldn’t do it any more, couldn’t hold it in.
‘With me?’ she spat. ‘Or with a massive workforce scything through the woodland at Erimitis, killing habitats and eco-systems, constructing a total eyesore for millionaires like you to play with just because you can? Or were you hoping to swing on the wrecking ball with me when you send it pounding into Hotel Margaritári and demolish it?’