Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Back at Angeliki and Nick’s house late the next morning, as instructed, she and Suzie had enjoyed their coffee and biscuits while sitting outside on a couple of blue-painted wooden chairs, looking at the sea, fully aware it was the calm before the storm.
Suzie had warned her not to take more than two Easter biscuits; otherwise there was no way she’d fit everything in.
Vicky couldn’t believe that the meal would be that much more filling than a proper British roast with all the trimmings, so she took three.
Angeliki had made a pretty good fist of them, and she could taste the lashings of butter, along with subtle hints of vanilla and orange.
Angeliki and Nick had insisted that, as their guests, they stay away from the kitchen, or rather the enormous gas-fired barbecue that Nick had oiled within an inch of its life. It looked capable of taking a family of four on a week’s camping trip, let alone dealing with a tonne of lamb.
Vicky regretted that her work at the sanctuary and lack of a kitchen meant she’d not had a chance to make anything spitikó, but she’d bought lots of handmade chocolates from the zacharoplasteío, literally the sugar shop.
The Greeks didn’t bother to hide their sweet tooth; indeed, they celebrated it.
Suzie’s contribution was plenty of alcohol from the bar’s stock.
There looked like being enough to sink a battleship.
As the first of the guests made their way up the path from the beach, Vicky gave Suzie a rueful smile that their moment of peace was over. They stood next to Angeliki and Nick to welcome the partygoers.
Dressed in their finery, the women in soft flowing fabrics with metallic touches or skintight white jeans and heels, and the men in smart shirts and chinos, they all carried covered containers of home-cooked food.
There were shrieks of delight as people recognised each other and the noise level on the terrace went from nought to a hundred in seconds.
Wine bottles were opened, beers were popped and the shouts of Yamás! combined with clinking glasses and the explosions from the ever-present fireworks created a cacophony that made Vicky’s head whirl.
She could have sworn that shots were being fired somewhere off in the distance.
‘Surely that’s not a gun?’
Suzie laughed as she poured them both some wine, after helping serve the other guests. Although they were honoured guests themselves, it was second nature to her friend to make sure everyone had a drink.
‘Oh yes. The hunters like to let off their rifles up in the hills to add to the fun.’
It was certainly very different from the traditional roast lamb and trifle she was used to on Easter Sunday, but wasn’t that the point of coming here, to celebrate another culture?
Vicky took the glass that Suzie handed her and raised it into the air.
‘Yamás! If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.’
‘Yamás!’
Everyone just about managed to squeeze in round the big outdoor table under the terrace, which she and Suzie had helped lay.
It was adorned with a beautifully embroidered white lace tablecloth which Angeliki proudly told them her mother, Daphne, had made herself, which elicited much oohing and aaahing.
The cloth was complemented by large vases of hand-picked yellow spring flowers, which grew wild at the side of the road.
Vicky had been the one to rush out and cut bunches of them earlier while the coffee was being brewed.
The Greeks considered them weeds, but Angeliki had had to admit they looked elegant in the brightly coloured ceramic vases she’d had stored under the stairs.
The food offerings were laid end to end along the table, and everyone helped everyone else to devilled eggs and a variety of salads and bread, plus copious amounts of wine and beer.
Nick ferried over platter upon platter of lamb chops, lamb burgers, lamb steaks and other cuts she couldn’t even identify, and Vicky tucked in, assuming these were the main course.
But when a series of enormous steaming terracotta dishes appeared containing slow-cooked lamb on the bone with potatoes and vegetables, done in the oven, she realised this was very much not the case.
Her stomach was already fit to burst, but there was no refusing the star of the show, washed down with yet more wine.
She’d been on the lookout for a water jug for a while, but it always seemed to be just out of her reach, and then she’d be distracted by someone asking her something and sloshing yet more wine into her glass.
Although everyone except her and Suzie was Greek, the guests were mainly businesspeople from the town, so they spoke excellent English as a matter of course, which helped no end.
One man had regaled her with funny tales of his elderly aunt, who always fasted all through Lent and refused any meat.
One Easter Sunday, liberated from her pledge, she’d attempted to eat five kilograms of lamb in one go, and ended up in hospital.
Before today she’d have said that was ridiculous, an urban myth, but seeing how much food was on display, she now had no trouble believing the tale.
Angeliki’s mother, who spoke no English, was sat at the end of the table and just smiled in her direction occasionally.
She could vaguely remember Angeliki’s parents visiting them at their student house in Liverpool a few times, bringing little tastes of home back for their daughter, which she also benefited from hugely.
Authentic thyme honey was something she’d looked out for everywhere ever since, along with proper white taramasaláta and a liqueur called mastika.
Now she was in Greece, she could lay her hands on those items and plenty of other delicacies in most places she went, but she was ashamed it had taken her so many years to make the trip to Angeliki’s home country.
Although Angeliki had invited them many times, Ian had always been against visiting Vicky’s friend’s island, preferring Croatia or Devon for their annual holidays.
And she’d gone along with it to keep the peace, as usual, although she’d have loved to show Tasha where her godmother lived.
The word ‘doormat’ in neon lighting flashed into her mind.
But there was no point raking over the past. She looked down the table at the smiling faces, and beyond them all the way to the golden sand and the sea, azure in the sunlight.
She was here now, and that’s what mattered.
Although most people at the table seemed to know each other well, she didn’t feel at all left out, and as the wine loosened her tongue, she even tried out the few words of Greek she’d learnt, although the conversation inevitably ended up being in English, as it was pretty obvious there wasn’t anywhere very far to go after the standard phrases had been exhausted.
Ti kánete? How are you doing? … Apó pou eíste?
Where are you from? … Ehete paidiá? Do you have children?
… that was about it. But it was enough to sit and drink in the atmosphere.
It was a bit like being in the middle of a big rowdy children’s party with alcohol instead of juice.
When the meat dishes were finally cleared away, there was a light-as-a-feather sponge cake for dessert, layered with cream and fresh strawberries, and Vicky surprised herself by liberating a tiny corner of her stomach and taking a slim slice.
She glanced at her phone. They’d been eating for a solid six hours.
Suzie had told the truth this time: a British roast was a drop in the ocean compared to this.
After a huge round of applause for the hosts, the coffee and chocolates were brought out, and someone turned on the music.
One by one people either got up to dance or sat back in their chairs, semi-conscious.
Vicky was in another place altogether, the barely conscious camp, as her body caught up on just how much booze she’d put away.
Suzie tugging her to her feet and launching into an energetic boogie was a step too far. What she needed was a lie down, not to be twirled around. Her head swam, and she staggered back and gripped the edge of the table.
‘Hey! Are you OK?’
Suzie’s voice came from very far away, and suddenly she was being eased back into a chair. She closed her eyes, just for a moment.
When she opened them again, the concerned face of Alex the Vet loomed above her. Was she in the middle of a particularly terrible dream? Or even a nightmare?
‘Stand back, everyone. She just needs some air. Can someone fetch a big glass of water, please.’
This was all too real. She hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him earlier.
Not that she was looking. He must have just arrived.
Probably out saving an animal somewhere and far too busy to come to an Easter party.
Even she was momentarily ashamed of the nastiness of her own thoughts.
But something about him just made her hackles rise.
Always playing the good guy. To be fair, she didn’t have proof that he was merely playing, but it felt like it.
She’d not had much experience with good guys.
Alex put the glass of water in her hand, and she gulped it down gratefully.
‘Easy…’
Now he was treating her like a child. She tried to get up to get away from him, but his hand on her arm was surprisingly firm.
‘Leave it a minute. You don’t want to faint.’
She wasn’t having him tell her what to do.
She attempted to push herself up, but the woozy feeling returned with a vengeance.
Suzie was on one side of her, stroking her hand, and Angeliki the other.
Her hostess had given them the loveliest day.
She didn’t want her to worry. A quick lie down and she’d be right as rain.
Alex was speaking, yet again, this time to Angeliki. She strained to hear what he was saying. Didn’t he ever give it a rest?
‘She needs to go home and sleep it off. I’ve been on call, as you know, so I haven’t drunk a drop. I can take her back to the sanctuary; I was going there anyway to check in on a couple of post-ops.’
Sleep it off. How dare he. Arrogant sod for assuming she was drunk.
But it wasn’t fair on her old friend that she interrupt the party any further.
It still had plenty of mileage in it, judging by the raucous laughter all around her.
Making a quick exit was the best choice, even if she had to suffer Alex’s self-righteous disapproval all the way back home.
Suzie had nipped and fetched her bag and scarf, and a comedy attempt by her friend to kneel on the tiled floor beside her chair to give them to her showed it wasn’t just Vicky who was the worse for wear. Her friend’s attempt at a whisper was woeful.
‘Are you OK to go back with him? You barely know him. You said before that you thought he had a temper on him.’
‘Shhhh. I never said that.’
Suzie raised her eyebrows.
Alex seemed to find the whole thing highly amusing.
He stood looking down on her, physically and, in her mind at least, metaphorically.
Their last two encounters had involved her dressed as a Russian peasant accidentally taking centre stage in the town’s incredibly sombre Good Friday procession, and now he appeared to view her as a hopeless drunk.
But however much she wanted to punch him in the face, she knew she’d be safe with him.
He was irritating, yes, but dangerous, no.
After what she’d experienced in her marriage, one thing she could say for certain was that she’d be able to spot a potential psychopath a mile off. She could probably go on Mastermind with it as her specialist subject. Alex was absolutely not the type who would take advantage of a vulnerable woman.
She nodded her assent to Suzie.
‘It’s fine.’
‘Ring me to say you’ve got home OK, won’t you? You can’t be too careful.’ Suzie had stopped bothering to whisper.
‘Of course.’
Vicky patted Suzie’s shoulder rather harder than she intended, which caused her friend, who’d been crouching down, to sprawl on her back on the ground, laughing, legs in the air like a stranded beetle.
They’d get a job as a circus double act at this rate, no problem. She could see the promo poster. ‘Sit back and let Vick and Suze entertain you. Slapstick comedy our speciality.’ Yet more ammunition for the angelic Alex.
Vicky leant over the side of the chair and held out a hand to her fellow performer.
‘Sorry! Don’t know my own strength.’
Suzie managed to right herself on her own and give a thumbs-up, still laughing. It was definitely time to go.
Alex stepped forward and held out his arm, but Vicky was damned if she was going to take it. He’d be laying a cape on the floor in front of her next. She rose with difficulty and hugged Nick and Angeliki in turn.
‘Thank you so much for my first taste of Greek Easter. It’s been fantastic.’
Angeliki hugged her back for a long moment and kissed both sides of her face.
‘You’re welcome.’
Vicky prayed that Alex’s car wasn’t too far away. She really did need to get straight into bed.
The seat belt in his battered tough-guy car was something complicated or possibly even broken.
She tried several times to click it into place.
In the end Alex had to lean over and strap her in himself.
He was trying his best not to touch her, which she appreciated – it was the last thing she wanted as well – but the scent of his lemony aftershave went right up her nostrils.
Why didn’t he smell of sweat and animals like any normal vet?
She swore she caught the corner of his mouth fighting yet another smile at her expense. Maybe he had some sort of saviour complex, and rescuing damsels in distress turned him on.
But he had undoubtedly saved her from further embarrassment. Goodness knows what she and Suzie would have got up to after a few more gallons of wine. It might have been fun, but it could have ended very badly.
In the same situation, Ian would have abandoned her long ago and left her to make her own way back from the party, saying she’d lost control.
Vicky gave herself a mental slap. Whatever Ian would or wouldn’t have done was of no importance anymore, and she had to keep reminding herself of that.
Physically escaping the man was one thing, but repairing the mental damage was still a work in progress.
Keeping herself grounded in the present was the important thing. And right now, she was getting a lift from Mr Holier Than Thou, and she needed to be a little grateful.
‘Thank you for taking me home.’
‘No problem.’
There was that smug smile again.