Chapter 8
‘Katerina, what is going on with the eggs today?’ Faye asked as she inspected the buffet breakfast being served in the dining room the following morning. ‘Some guests are saying they are too hard, others too soft.’
‘Mine feel like they are fertilised after meeting our VIP last night.’
Katerina gave the kind of breathy sigh Faye heard from Saffron when her daughter was watching TikTok edits of K-pop group, Enhypen.
‘Kostas Petsas is even better than Christoforos Papakaliatis. And you know I would not say that lightly. I mean, he has money, status, muscles, so much dark, wavy hair. Grrrr.’
Had Katerina just growled? Faye surreptitiously looked to see if any of the guests filling their plates with breakfast items had heard the noise.
‘He is so famous there is a statue of him in Corfu Town, you know,’ Katerina stated. ‘Close to Saint Helen’s Square.’
What? This man had a statue of him in Corfu Town? And Katerina seemed to know all about it. Who exactly was Kostas? Perhaps her expression was giving her away because the next thing Katerina did was gasp and continue in rapid fire.
‘You have no idea who he is! Thée mou! You spend too much time at work and not enough time watching sports on TV at Adonis Café. He is a basketball player. Professional! One of the best our country has ever produced! Or, at least, he was. He does not play any more.’
‘He’s retired?’ Faye frowned. ‘Do they not play for very long?’ She knew nothing about basketball whatsoever except most people who played were tall. That fitted. But surely he was only in his twenties…
‘He was injured. In a game. And then, months later, as he was coming back to play, there was a fight in the street. Some say it was a deliberate attack on him, but nothing has ever been proven. Not that I know anyway.’
Faye’s mind was whirring now. Ex-professional basketball player, injured, a victim of an attack. This could explain his perception of ‘people’ he spoke about last night.
‘He is sooo sexy. Younger than I would prefer but, you know, with his millions he could—’
‘Millions?’ Faye stated, a little louder than she would have liked.
‘Basketball, it is a very lucrative sport and when you are one of the greatest players there is much money to be made. Much more money than cooking eggs that are either too hard or too soft.’
Faye looked at the eggs under the heat lamp, some yolks practically liquid, others like they were a dry omelette. She tried to remember back to when Fani, one of the chefs, had made this occur before. And then it struck her.
‘Katerina, how is Fani’s daughter at the moment?’
‘Ugh! Heartbroken again, would you believe! Back living at home.’ She picked up a tray of cutlery. ‘And you know when Klelia is heartbroken she bleeds sorrow like she is Jesus on the cross.’
And now Faye had her answer. She would check in with Fani as soon as the rush was over. Suddenly Katerina grabbed her arm and the cutlery was dumped on the countertop.
‘Thée mou! There he is. What is he doing in here? Why would he want to rub the shoulders with the people when he could have me bringing a basket of breakfast to his room?’
Faye looked to the entrance of the dining room and there was Kostas, standing, observing, sunglasses covering his eyes. He seemed to be looking for something… and then he waved a hand at her.
‘Did he just wave at me?’ Katerina asked, hand going to her chest like she might have to push her heart back in.
‘Katerina,’ Faye said. ‘Make up the table by the window.’
‘The one we put guests on when they have made a complaint?’
‘Yes,’ Faye said as Kostas strode through the space towards them. ‘Do it now.’ She smiled at Kostas as Katerina reluctantly departed. ‘Kaliméra, Kosta. We were not expecting you.’
He took off his sunglasses. ‘No? Why? This is where guests have breakfast, yes?’
‘Yes, but usually, the guests who stay in the private suites make other arrangements,’ Faye stated.
‘Other arrangements?’ he asked, and then… ‘Ah, fruit baskets brought to the door. I think we went through this last night. It did not go so well.’
‘You would like to make a complaint?’ Faye asked him. ‘About the gyros?’
‘Really I just want to have breakfast,’ he answered with a smirk.
And Faye did really need to stop suggesting people make a complaint. She already had enough guests who would do that without being prompted.
‘Of course. There’s a quiet table right over here.’ Faye indicated the one Katerina had prepared, where she was stood grinning and pouting like a fan-girl, polishing a fork.
‘Efharistó,’ Kostas said, nodding. ‘But I liked the table we sat at last night. Outside.’
‘OK…’ Faye said.
‘That is allowed in the handbook of rules, no?’
She smiled. ‘Of course.’
‘Good. So, I will fill up a plate and you and I will sit together.’
What? Faye knew she hadn’t kept the shock off her expression either.
‘Ah, you are here!’
Faye turned around now and it was Dimitria addressing them both. Another person who didn’t usually saunter through a packed dining room, and who enjoyed quiet solitude for the most part. Why were people breaking habits all of a sudden?
‘You are Mrs Aspioti?’ Kostas asked. He offered out his hand.
‘Please, call me Dimitria. And I am not going to shake your hand. I knew your mother.’ She leaned in and instead kissed Kostas on both cheeks. ‘I was sorry to hear of her passing.’
Faye watched the interaction, taking it in piece by piece. How Dimitria was with Kostas, how he was with her.
‘Thank you,’ Kostas answered.
‘So, you ask for privacy and you stand in the centre of the dining room?’ Dimitria said with a laugh.
‘That is exactly what I said, Or thereabouts,’ Faye replied.
‘Actually, I have asked Faye to accompany me outside,’ Kostas said. ‘In fact, I was going to ask if it would be acceptable to take a little of her time while I am here.’
‘What?’ This one Faye had said out loud.
‘You need my hotel manager?’ Dimitria asked, seemingly oblivious to Faye’s question.
‘Yes,’ Kostas answered. ‘It is some time since I have been on Corfu. I would like someone who knows the area very well, as it is now, and can show me around, and also someone who has the skills to be good with people.’
‘I will find you someone,’ Faye said rapidly. ‘There are many people I can recommend and—’
‘Fisika,’ Dimitria interrupted. ‘Of course.’
‘Poli kala,’ Kostas responded. ‘Thank you. It is appreciated. Now, I will see how much fruit I can fit on my plate. Do you have strawberries?’
‘The best,’ Dimitria answered with a smile.
Faye held her tongue until the second Kostas was out of earshot. ‘Dimitria! I don’t have time to be a companion/tour guide/whatever he’s looking for. I barely have time to do the work I need to do and—’
‘Please, Faye, we should not have this discussion in the midst of our guests. éla. Come.’
It wasn’t up for any discussion at all it seemed and Faye followed the owner to the doors leading to outside, stepping onto the plaka paving that led to the gardens and that sea view, the dense vegetation beyond. They continued to walk.
‘So,’ Dimitria began. ‘What is the problem?’
‘It’s the summer. I have a million and one things to do. I also have a million and one things that crop up in addition to those million and one things making two million and two things. I don’t have the time.’
Dimitria put her hands on Faye’s shoulders, pausing in her steps. ‘And now breathe.’
‘I don’t have time to breathe,’ Faye said. ‘Please don’t add breathing to my already full list.’
‘You give everything to this job, Faye,’ Dimitria began. ‘You have always given everything to this job.’
‘Why wouldn’t I?’ Faye asked. ‘You gave me everything when you gave me this job.’
Dimitria shook her head. ‘I gave you what I could because you deserved it. And, what? You work yourself into the ground forever because you think you are in my debt? I may, theoretically, be your boss, Faye, but I am your friend first, no?’
Faye let go of a breath she didn’t even know she had been holding on to.
Sometimes she felt a little like, in her own mind, she was still trying to earn her place on the island.
But she’d work as hard as she had to to prove to anyone that Kerkyra wasn’t a passing fancy to her.
Corfu was her life, her permanent home, and she was so very grateful for that.
‘It does not escape anyone’s attention that I am getting older,’ Dimitria continued as they walked again.
‘Even my cats are beginning to wonder if today will be the day I fall over and do not get back up. I see the way they look at me. They are more sorry for me than I am for them. Either that or they wonder which leg they will gnaw on first.’
‘Dimitria—’
‘Ochi. No. I do not look for sympathy. I speak only of facts. And, as I need to think of my future, you need to also think of yours.’
‘I do,’ Faye said. ‘When I have time to think about anything but this current summer season and—’
‘Make time, Faye.’
Faye baulked a little at Dimitria’s tone. She hadn’t heard her friend talk that way for a while. The last time, worryingly, had been during a health scare…
‘Dimitria, is there something I should know?’ Faye asked as they stopped again. ‘You’re not… unwell or anything?’
‘No! Is that what the grapevine is saying?’
‘No, not at all, I just didn’t know what you meant,’ Faye said.
‘I asked you to make time. Because, in the end, that is all we really have.’ Dimitria sighed. ‘And no one ever knows how much.’
Now Faye was really worried. She went to speak again but Dimitria beat her to it.
‘Please, make time for Kostas, Faye. He has paid a vast sum of money to stay here and I have yet to fully work out why but, for the time being, I would like to keep him happy. Whatever work you cannot handle you will pass on to Katerina. She is a bright girl, and she is always looking for more than bar work. Perhaps we give her a trial.’
A shiver ran up Faye’s back at the thought of Katerina having even thirty seconds in charge of spreadsheets instead of bed sheets.
‘Take that look off your face. We both know no one is going to be as conscientious as you; however, also no one expects you to be a martyr. Especially not me.’
‘Dimitria,’ Faye said. ‘Please tell me what’s going on with you.’
‘Tipota. Nothing,’ she answered, her fingers curling around a frond of lavender springing from the flowering border. ‘But perhaps I am concerning myself a little with the organisation of the time I have left. Ah! Kosta, you are here. Please, let Faye take you to a table with our perfect view.’
And as Kostas arrived, white porcelain plate overflowing with a mixture of food items from the breakfast buffet, there was nothing that Faye could do apart from what she was told.