Chapter 13 #2
‘Granny? Well, if we are to be friends – and things are not off to a good start…’ the woman said, a twinkle in her eye.
Warmth glowed inside Carrie as well as on the outside.
‘…anything you need help with, pop in and ask, my sweet.’ With that, Nana was gone.
Carrie gazed around at glossy-leafed trees, at pedestrians who milled around the market, from elderly people on sticks to parents with children pulling on their hands, and market traders exchanging banter.
A scrawny cat stalked past, tabby with a white bib.
It stopped by a stall selling fresh fish and the market trader clapped his hands and shooed it away.
Shame cats didn’t like biscuits; Carrie would have gladly given it hers – and taken a photo for her account in the process.
Her phone buzzed. A text.
Yassou Carrie!
So glad you like the rental! I love pomegranates – one of my favourite drinks is grenadine. Don’t hesitate to ask any questions. I have lived on the island my whole life and want you to enjoy your stay as much as I love being here.
Ta-ra chuck!
(I researched and that is how you say goodbye in Manchester?)
Dimitrios
A laugh burst out of her chest. And she’d forgotten grenadine was made from that fruit and felt a sudden urge to drink it. What a sweet person. She flicked through the phrases in her notebook and then texted:
Hi Dimitrios,
You put me to shame, learning Mancunian. Must try harder! So…
Antio!
Carrie
She put down her phone and absorbed the noise, the activity.
Carrie liked busy places; they lessened her sense of loneliness.
A deep-seated loneliness that had crept in since Mum had died, despite the closeness to her friends; a loneliness that had amplified that question of whether there should be more to her life than what she had back in Manchester.
After a swig of water, Carrie tapped on her phone and into the government website, and navigated to the relevant page. She re-read the detailed information. Then re-read it again.
Oh nooooo.
She wasn’t allowed to work, not for money, for the first ninety days of her stay.
And then she’d have to get the necessary paperwork.
Why hadn’t she sorted this out in advance?
She did the maths. She could just about cover the cheap rent and living expenses for that time.
But what would she do without a job? This was supposed to have been easy.
Sun, sand and getting paid for serving Sex on the Beach cocktails.
She gave a deep sigh as a man approached from the distance, in chinos and a tight white tee.
As he passed her table, a citrus and oregano scent caught her attention.
Oh no. It was him, with his determined look and black sunglasses on.
But worse than bumping into him again was the fact that his hand was bandaged. He stopped to tie a shoelace.
Why, oh why, had Mum taught Carrie good manners and a sense of responsibility?
That bandage would be due to her having knocked his drink yesterday.
There was no way around it. She’d have to apologise.
She took a mouthful of coffee for Greek courage.
The man straightened up and as her chair scraped back, he glanced in her direction.
He threw his hands in the air, shook his head and headed to the market, but she hurried after him.
‘Excuse me. Stop, please.’
He turned around, nostrils flared, and pulled off his sunglasses.
She studied his face. There was that sense of familiarity again.
‘I warned you. I won’t put up with this harassment.’
‘Everything all right, Doritos?’ asked a muscle-bound policeman walking away from the market. It was the one from yesterday… Ajax. What sort of name was Doritos? And she’d always believed the word for those crisps was Spanish. The policeman spoke to this Doritos rapidly in Greek.
‘I wanted to apologise for your hand,’ Carrie interrupted. ‘I should have stopped yesterday and said I was sorry, but I was worried my rucksack might have been stolen.’
‘Paros is not a crime hot spot,’ said Ajax sternly, his thick eyebrows furrowed together. ‘Any trouble usually comes from visitors.’ The two men gave her a pointed look. ‘I’d like to ask you a few questions, miss, follow me.’
‘Are you serious?’ she asked, and her jaw dropped. ‘On what grounds?’
At that moment a group of very young women – American, by the sounds of it – standing by a stall selling souvenirs started screaming, pointing at… Doritos?
Hastily, Doritos put his glasses back on and muttered something under his breath – the same word as when Carrie had knocked his drink.
He looked at Ajax, who nodded. Quickly, Doritos walked away.
A couple of locals shot him sympathetic glances.
What was going on? As the women approached, manically waving and shrieking, all six foot of burly Ajax held out his arms.
‘Stay back, please, ladies.’
Tears streamed down one woman’s face. ‘Giannis! Giannis! Please wait! We love you! Just give us a minute!’
What the… Wait. Was Doritos actually called Giannis? Carrie rubbed her forehead.
‘Marry me!’ shouted another woman. ‘Giannis! I’ll make you happy!’ The five of them screamed more loudly.
Ajax clapped his hands. ‘Ladies! Stop this immediately or I will arrest you for causing a public disturbance. If any of you attempt to contact Kyrios GoGo during your stay, it will mean immediate removal from this island and a possible jail sentence.’
Totally confused, Carrie returned to her seat. Nana had gone over to talk to Ajax before she, too, spoke to the group of women, who’d begun singing that recent global hit from last summer, a worldwide number one called ‘Can’t Break Me’.
Nana came over and rolled her eyes. ‘Poor Doritos. He hates this attention.’
Carrie shrugged. ‘Why does he get it?’
‘You don’t know who he is? They are calling his stage name, Giannis.’
Giannis, Giannis… Yes. Now how did she know that name?
‘Do you recognise what they are singing?’ asked Nana.
It wasn’t Carrie’s usual music to listen to; ballads dragged her down since Mum’s passing.
But there had been something different about this tune and she’d sung it every time it came on at work.
It was romantic, catchy, and almost created an emotional connection; it had made women across the world fall in love with the singer, judging by the starry eyes of female punters at The Niterie whenever it came on.
In fact, he had been voted sexiest man on the planet last year and she’d spotted a poster of him on a wall, in the centre of Manchester.
She rubbed her head again and recalled the image, a tall figure, wearing black sunglasses and…
Giannis. That had been his name.
Her eyes widened and Nana nodded. ‘Now you understand all this commotion.’
Yes. Yes, Carrie did. Kyrios was the Greek word for Mister. So when Ajax had said Kyrios GoGo it meant…
Wow!
Of course he was familiar!
The most annoying, rude, self-inflated man she’d ever met, named after a packet of crisps, was, in fact, none other than global pop star Giannis GoGo!