Chapter Seven
With Theo out of the way, Nina fell into a rhythm, running the sander back and forth over the floorboards, leaving a trail of smooth, gleaming wood behind her.
The results were impressive, she had to admit, and images of the room freshly painted, the floorboards varnished and with a beautiful rug in the centre flashed through her mind.
It was back-breaking work, though, and all the more punishing in this heat; sweat pooled unpleasantly in the paper mask she wore over her nose and mouth, and sawdust stuck to her damp hair and skin.
She felt dirty, hot and tired. This was definitely not what she’d signed up for, and not how she wanted to spend the rest of the summer.
She thought, with a stab of bitterness, of the image she’d had of herself lying on the beach drinking cocktails, perhaps even finding a handsome local to have a bit of a rebound fling with.
Nothing serious, she obviously wasn’t ready for that – might never be.
But someone pretty and fun to take her mind off Sam and Mags.
As she reached down to heft the sander to the next floorboard, her nail bent and snapped, shooting off across the room and sending a sharp pain flaring up her finger.
Nina cried out, throwing the sander down and sucking on the offending fingertip, now displaying an ugly, jagged nail and spoiling the set of perfectly manicured, coral-coloured gels she’d had done especially for this trip.
She kicked the sander, stubbing her toe in the process, and yanked the mask off, shrieking in frustration as she wiped her sweating face.
She was horrified to find tears trickling down her hot cheeks; it was just a broken nail.
She was overreacting. But, as she glanced through the doorway and caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror in the hallway, she felt a sob convulse in her chest. This wasn’t supposed to be her life; she was supposed to be the glamorous city girl, the girl who got the promotion, the girl with the handsome, successful boyfriend.
But all of that had been stolen from her, and she was a mess.
Her hair was clumped and matted, her face smudged with mascara, streaked with dust and blotched with sweat, her dress damp and sticking to her skin.
Her manicure ruined. As she stared at her hand despondently, she realised with horror that she’d forgotten to remove the gold bangle, and it was now covered with dust. With shaking fingers, she undid the clasp and slipped it from her wrist, wiping it on the hem of her dress and inspecting it, desperately hoping it wasn’t scratched or damaged.
The gold shone as she cleaned it, and luckily didn’t seem worse for wear; she breathed a shaky sigh of relief, feeling the tension in her stomach fade a little.
The ten tiny diamonds that were evenly spread around the bracelet, one for each year Theo and Clare had been married on the anniversary he gifted it to her, remained intact.
It was the most valuable gift he’d given her, and the most valuable thing Nina owned; she had bought herself a few items that were as costly, but nothing meant as much to her as this.
It was a small part of her mum – she remembered it glinting on Clare’s wrist daily, and now the same metal rested against her own skin, her fingers touched the same clasp that her mum’s had.
Nina pressed the bangle to her lips, and carefully placed it back on her arm.
She would bet anything that her mum had never once let herself get into the mess Nina was in now.
She was cool and calm, sophisticated and in control.
She would never have lost her job, or her boyfriend, or chosen such a fickle boyfriend and friend in the first place.
What on earth would she think of her daughter if she could see her now? She’d be ashamed, wouldn’t she?
Nina hiccupped down a sob and wiped her face as best she could. This wasn’t working. She was a mess, she hadn’t planned to spend her summer doing this, and she wouldn’t be any use to Theo like this anyway. And who on earth would want to have a rebound fling with her in this state?
No. She needed to go home and get her life on track. To be the cool collected woman she’d always hoped to be; the woman her mum would’ve been proud of.
She took a shaky sigh, determined now, and went to track down Theo in whatever crazy task he was up to. Which was probably eating the baklava, she thought.
She found him in one of the top rooms, pointing out the holes in the roof to a man who was balanced on a ladder. As she came in the man jumped down, nimble and graceful, and pulled his t-shirt over his head, revealing a tanned and toned torso, before using it to wipe his face.
Nina stopped in the doorway, momentarily stunned, and unable to tear her eyes away from this Adonis standing in front of her.
Turning, he saw her and immediately loped over, lithe as a panther.
He stood before her, dark eyes and easy smile, the few lines he had crinkling and making him even more handsome, if anything. He took her hand to kiss it.
‘Yassas,’ he said.
Nina gulped and tried to surreptitiously tidy her hair. Of course she would meet this beauty of a man when she looked like she’d been dragged through a hedge backwards.
‘You must be Nina, yes?’ the man continued in English. ‘Theo’s daughter?’ He placed a palm on his chest. Nina felt her gaze linger there; he had the perfect amount of chest hair, just enough to run her fingers over. Sam had always been waxed smooth. ‘Vassilis,’ he said.
Nina shook herself and flapped her lips for a moment until she eventually managed to form some words. ‘Do you like baklava?’
He opened his arms and smiled. ‘Of course.’
And Nina decided that her announcement that she was leaving could wait a little while.
She and Vassilis sat in the sun-drenched courtyard, on rickety chairs overlooking the beach, and ate the baklava.
Nina brought two bottles of Mythos from the fridge, snapping the tops off on the edge of the table the way Heather had taught her when they were teenagers, and handing one to Vassilis. He raised an eyebrow, looking rueful.
‘I’m supposed to be working,’ he said, accepting the beer anyway and taking a sip. Nina tried not to watch his Adam’s apple as he swallowed.
‘You’re allowed a break, aren’t you?’ she asked, sitting down and stretching her legs out in the sun, closing her eyes and tipping her head back. If she could fit in more of this, sitting in the Kefalonian sun with a handsome man, she would definitely stay for the summer.
‘Maybe,’ Vassilis said. ‘I’m not sure your baba would approve. But how can I resist such a beautiful lady?’
Nina opened one eye. ‘I look a mess.’ She wished he’d seen her as she usually was, with every hair in place and her makeup impeccable. No broken nails, no sawdust stuck to her eyelashes. This sticky, sweaty mess of a woman wasn’t her.
He shrugged. ‘Maybe you’re not looking your best right now, yes, but I see a beautiful lady sitting here.
’ He grinned, raising an eyebrow. Nina was fully watching him now, trying not to feel self-conscious under his gaze as it travelled up her face, lingering on her mouth.
‘Sure, you get dressed up and with the makeup and the jewels and you are taking the breath of all the men.’ He nodded.
Nina flushed. ‘But now, with the hair like a bed for the birds and the face all –’ He waved a hand in front of his own face to indicate, she assumed, smudged makeup and sweat and dust. Nina felt anger prickling under her skin.
She wasn’t looking her best, but there was no need for him to be rude.
‘Still. With all this even, I see it. You can’t hide it, this beauty. ’
‘Well. Thank you, I suppose,’ she said, rather ungraciously.
It was a back-handed compliment if ever she’d had one, but he was speaking in his second language, so she was prepared to give him the benefit of the doubt.
He had said she was beautiful, after all, she thought, watching his taut stomach tighten as he leaned back in his chair.
He waved a hand vaguely in the direction of the view. ‘You are enjoying this, yes?’
‘It is lovely here.’ Nina heard the lack of enthusiasm in her voice, and Vassilis glanced at her, obviously picking up on it too.
He grinned. ‘What, this not to your liking? Beautiful sun, beautiful sea?’
Nina took a sip of beer, trying not to grimace at the flavour; she was more of a wine girl. ‘No, it is, of course it is, it’s –’ She gazed out at the sparkling waters below. ‘It really is gorgeous. It’s just – not quite what I imagined.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Oh. You like a bit more, yes?’
He chuckled, and Nina gave him a sidelong glance; was he laughing at her? But his dark eyes were warm, and she could see he meant no harm.
He nodded. ‘This is the life you are used to, I see. Not quiet little Metalios.’
Nina thought of her old life, which involved little more than the office and the flat, and perhaps some bar where Sam would ignore her all night, talking to his important colleagues.
She sighed and picked at the label on the beer bottle.
‘I don’t know. My old life was mostly work, now I think about it.
I liked that though; I was good at it, or at least I thought I was.
But now . . .’ She bit her lip. ‘I don’t know.
I’m not sure what’s next really.’ Her voice shook and, horrified to be showing herself up in front of this gorgeous stranger, she bit back tears.
But her treacherous mind took her back to the kitchen in her apartment in Manchester, to the sight of Mags in Sam’s t-shirt, casually making them both a drink.
Nina reached for her sunglasses to hide the tears that had begun to leak from her eyes.