Chapter Ten #2
She was still annoyed with him, and the fact that he was making her smile when he wasn’t even there and she was trying to be annoyed with him was annoying her even more.
It wasn’t really Theo’s fault though, was it? It was those stupid protesters, if you could really describe that rag-tag bunch that way, who had caused all the problems. And their leader the worst of all.
She had no issue with people caring about the environment or wildlife or whatever had so clearly got under his skin; she admired that passion.
He obviously cared very much about turtles; she could see that in the flaring of those bright eyes and the intensity of what he was saying.
Nothing wrong with that. But what kind of an idiot painted graffiti on someone’s door and organised a protest – she was being generous in calling it that, but still – before they’d checked all the facts?
She could believe that there were some tourists somewhere who were thoughtlessly causing damage to some turtles.
But she and Theo were quietly minding their own business, and they didn’t deserve to be attacked by a mad stranger in their own home.
‘Oh dear,’ a voice said at her shoulder. ‘You look like you need an ouzo.’
Nina looked up to see the dark-haired woman she’d seen at the beach smiling down at her, her eyes warm.
She sat at the table with Nina and immediately two children raced over, the little one crying and the other shouting in Greek.
At this commotion, Milo gave them a baleful look and trotted out to the village square.
The woman at the table rolled her eyes at Nina as she scooped up the crying child. ‘I know the feeling. Shame it’s too early, huh?’
Nina smiled and watched as she soothed and calmed the children, wiping eyes and noses, giving hugs and kisses and coaxing smiles.
Nina felt a pang for Heather, knowing she would be equally calm and comforting with distressed children.
The woman pulled the child on her lap into her, stroking his hair, and smiled at Nina.
‘His brother played with his toy and wouldn’t return it straight away.
End of the world. I hope you don’t mind me sitting here?
You looked like you need a distraction, but perhaps . . .’
‘Oh no,’ Nina said. ‘Very happy for you to sit.’
The woman smiled again, her face open and warm, and Nina was genuinely glad she’d come over. ‘Eirini,’ she said, placing a hand on her chest.
‘I’m Nina.’
She laughed. ‘Oh I know. I’m married to Yiannis’s son, Alex. Yiannis has told us all about Theo and about you coming with him.’
Once again, Nina thought of asking if Yiannis had mentioned her mum; he’d known Theo since they were boys, surely he must have met her. But Nina had only just met this woman and she didn’t know how to broach the subject.
Her food arrived, the children immediately leaving Eirini to tug on their smiling grandfather’s apron and speak to him in their sweet, sing-song voices.
‘They’re asking for ice cream,’ Eirini said. ‘My boys. Epikos.’
She indicated the eldest, who shook his long hair out of his eyes and smiled. ‘Yassas,’ he said, in a confident and friendly manner, and Nina nodded a hello.
‘And Xernao, the little one.’
Yiannis, laughing and patting the children’s heads, leaned over them to place Nina’s food on the table.
The smell of the scrambled eggs with tomato and feta filled the air, and she found herself falling on the food as soon as the plate touched the table.
‘Thank you,’ she mumbled through a mouthful.
But Yiannis was already walking away, tailed by the children.
‘Bad morning?’ Eirini asked. ‘If I’m prying then just –’
‘No, it’s fine.’ Nina forced herself to stop eating for long enough to reply.
‘Just – this stupid bloke, I think Baba called him George or something, he brought a crazy crowd of people to do some kind of protest this morning and they woke me up and he was really rude, actually, and Baba doesn’t even seem to care and .
. . I don’t know.’ She sighed. Eirini was grinning. ‘What?’
‘Oh, nothing. It’s just – this is George.’ She shrugged. ‘He has his passions, you might say, and he won’t let things go if he feels some kind of injustice or . . .’
Nina had just taken another mouthful, but she couldn’t help protesting. ‘And that’s all fine, of course, that’s good, but what the he –’ She caught sight of the children returning, carrying bowls of Greek yogurt and honey. ‘What the hippos does he think we’ve done that’s so unjust?’
Somehow her channelling of Heather’s habit of replacing offensive words with innocuous ones rather took the fire out of her.
Eirini shrugged. ‘No idea. But knowing George, you’ll be finding out soon.’
They were both distracted by the children, who argued over which of them was going to sit next to their mum until Nina solved the issue by moving over a space and allowing them to sit either side of her.
Eirini stroked each of their heads and pinched their cheeks gently as, having squabbled about sitting next to her, they ignored her completely while they ate their yogurt.
‘Seriously,’ she whispered, rolling her eyes at Nina. ‘How soon is it time for drinks? You come find me when it is and we’ll share some wine, yes?’
Nina nodded. ‘Excellent plan.’
Feeling more cheerful, she made her way back to the house, full of eggs and looking forward to having a drink and a chat with Eirini sometime soon.
She had loved her night out with Vassilis, and was looking forward to seeing him again, but there was no substitute for a good girlfriend, and she was missing Heather; Eirini was friendly, smart and fun.
It would be good to get to know her a bit better.
She found herself smiling and swinging her handbag as she walked through the pretty town square, watching as a woman at a market stall half-heartedly shooed Milo away from her peaches; life wasn’t so bad after all.
Perhaps soon she’d be able to laugh about the absurdity of a bunch of locals organising a protest against her and Theo by mistake.
Her lips twitched at the idea. Yes, it was just a daft misunderstanding, that was all.
Well, obviously the sandy-haired, blue-eyed George wasn’t exactly local.
He certainly didn’t look or sound Greek; he’d spoken English with a slight Welsh lilt, if her mind wasn’t playing tricks on her.
She didn’t know what the story was, there, but hopefully she wouldn’t see him again, and none of this would matter.
The sound of raised voices made her stop in her tracks. The ruckus was coming from Maria’s. And one of the voices sounded like Theo’s.
She went into the courtyard, where the rope that should have been tied to Milo’s collar lay on the ground.
The voices came from inside the kitchen, a lot of shouting in Greek, and as Nina peered through the open window, she saw that it was indeed Theo, throwing his arms around and red in the face as he and Maria argued.
Nina blinked. Theo had a dramatic streak, she couldn’t deny that, but it was usually a playful exaggeration that involved eyerolling and jerking around, the aim of which seemed to be to make whoever was watching laugh.
And it was usually successful; he certainly cheered her up with his antics.
He wasn’t hot-tempered, though. She had rarely heard him raise his voice in genuine anger.
But that was what was happening now as he scowled and shook his head while Maria poked him and spoke in angry, animated Greek.
Shaken, Nina slipped away. Once again she wished that Theo had chosen to bring her up bilingual.
But he hadn’t, choosing to give her dual nationality but thinking she would fit in better with other children if she spoke only English, and she had no idea what her dad and their neighbour were arguing about so fiercely.
Her mood was not improved when she arrived at the house to find none other than the infamous George, looking shifty as he quickly ducked onto the street.
He was carrying something, a bucket, and he’d clearly been up to some kind of mischief at the house again.
What now? Had he got paint in the bucket that he’d thrown onto a wall?
Or stones that he’d used to break windows with?
He glanced over his shoulder at her as he hurried away.
Well. If he thought she was some timid thing too scared to confront him then he’d made a mistake.
Furious, she bore down on him. He glanced over his shoulder again, and picked up speed as he scuttled away. Did he really think he could run away like some naughty kid?
‘Hey!’ she yelled. She could feel a flush of rage spreading over her cheeks. She wasn’t in the mood to be messed around. ‘Don’t run away from me.’
He skidded to a halt and turned to face her, sighing. He looked about as happy to see her as she was to see him, those blue eyes glowering behind tortoiseshell-rimmed glasses.
‘What?’ he snapped.
‘What have you been doing?’
‘None of your business.’
Nina removed her sunglasses to glare at him all the more fiercely, and she saw some reaction in him as their eyes met, an opening of his face, a parting of the lips. She was too annoyed to think about what it might mean.
‘It is my bloody business if you’re vandalising my bloody house. Again.’
He rocked back on his heels, throwing his head back as though she was the one being stupidly infuriating and testing his infinite patience.
‘Oh my god. I told you, it’s washable, it’s not vandalism.
Is that really all you care about? A bit of a smudge on your front door and having your beauty sleep disturbed.
’ As he said this his gaze travelled her face.
‘You’re just an entitled little princess who doesn’t care about anything but herself. ’
Fury was beating through Nina’s veins, her heart pounding and her ears thrumming.
She couldn’t believe what she was hearing – this personal attack from a stranger who knew nothing about her, and had no reason to say such awful things.
‘And you’re just a lunatic who attacks innocent people for no reason! ’
‘No reason? You know this wildlife has been part of the place for hundreds of years, long before your greedy plans to threaten their habitat. You just swan in here and start to destroy everything without caring about the harm it does to innocent creatures, never mind the community that have lived in the village without causing any damage to anything all this time. Did you even think about what the people who live here want? Or what will happen to the environment?’
‘What?’ Nina threw her hands in the air, giving up on trying to make any sense of what he was saying. ‘Have you just made all of this up or are you just stupid? None of this is real; you’re an idiot.’
He snorted and shook his head. ‘And you’re a liar.’
He picked up the bucket, and on some level she registered surprise to see the cording of the muscles in his forearms as he lifted it, then turned and walked away.
‘Whatever you’ve done to the house this time, I’m calling the police!’ she yelled after his retreating back.
‘Go ahead,’ he called, without turning round.
Fuming, she marched to the house, glaring around to see what new damage he had caused. There was nothing. Just the front door, graffiti free and gleaming wet in the sun, soap suds slipping down its surface.