Chapter Twelve
This time she brought the ingredients herself.
She needed to prove to Maria that she really was interested in learning to cook some Greek dishes – she was certainly keen on eating them, and it seemed only right that she learn how to make this food that was part of her heritage.
Also there was something about Maria, with her white-streaked hair and pet goat and no-nonsense attitude, that Nina was drawn to.
Another reason, and just as a side bonus that wasn’t her main motivation for being there at all – was that she was still curious about why Theo and Maria had argued.
Feeling like a character in a romcom movie, she wore a sundress, straw hat and sandals, and brought the food in a string bag.
She’d even brought a carrot for Milo, who was, miraculously, happily sitting in a patch of sunlight in Maria’s courtyard and not causing mischief in the village square.
Nina patted the little goat’s head as she munched away enthusiastically.
Smiling, she knocked on the door; she was going to charm Maria into submission, and they were about to become the best of friends.
Maria scowled and tutted as she opened the door. ‘What are you wanting?’
Undeterred, Nina held the bag up. ‘I’ve come for a cooking lesson.’
Maria folded her arms. ‘What, you don’t think I’m busy with my own things?’
Nina peered past her into the shady house. Everything was quiet. ‘Are you?’
‘No.’
‘So . . . I can come in?’ She smiled her best smile, taking off her sunglasses so that Maria could see how sincere she was.
Maria tapped her foot, which seemed to be bothering her a little less. This woman was not easily charmed. At last she peered into the bag. ‘What you got here?’
And Nina knew she’d won. She grinned. ‘Shrimp saganaki.’
Maria peered into the bag. She sniffed and turned up her lip. ‘These really are shrimps, so small I can hardly see them, but all right. I will teach you.’
She stood aside and held out her arm, and Nina felt like whooping. ‘Thanks,’ she said, as casually as she could.
‘How’s your foot?’ she asked as she put the bag on Maria’s kitchen table.
‘Pfft, no trouble. You prepared shrimp before?’
Nina shook her head. ‘No, but I’ve watched Baba. Why don’t you sit down and talk me through it?’ She pulled a chair out and went to wash her hands.
Maria gave her a sharp look. ‘I’m not some old invalid needs you looking after me.’ She sat down anyway, grunting as she did.
‘Wouldn’t dream of it.’
‘Yes, well. Wash these then, peel and get going, no dilly-dally. If you can see them, tiny things.’
Nina had chosen the biggest, juiciest, freshest shrimps she could find, but she said nothing.
She sensed something underneath Maria’s brashness, a genuine distress that was driving her snappishness.
Nina watched out of the corner of her eye as the older woman picked at the side of her nail and stared into the distance, her brow creased.
She knew better than to ask directly what was bothering her, or even if she was okay.
But perhaps she could distract her with the cooking and, if she wanted to, Maria might even open up about what was bothering her.
Because Nina was sure that something was, and she suspected it had to do with the argument with Theo.
She took a sharp knife and, having cleaned the prawns, peeled them. She was pleasantly surprised about how well this went; watching Theo all those years had paid off. Even Maria gave a small nod as she watched with an eagle eye.
Removing the black vein was more of a challenge – overconfident now, Nina stabbed at the first shrimp, making a mess and prompting Maria to tut and shake her head.
‘What you doing?’ she cried. ‘Making mess like this.’
‘I don’t know, Baba always makes it look so easy.’
Maria flicked a look at her, but said nothing about Theo. ‘Just – gently, pick it with the point of the knife. Again.’ She waved her hand imperiously at the shrimp, and Nina felt like she was being instructed by a grumpy chef. She stifled a smile.
The second attempt was more successful, and she grinned, brandishing the clean shrimp for Maria’s approval. The small nod she received in return meant the world.
‘He’s not himself lately,’ she said, carefully focusing on her work. ‘Baba.’
Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of Maria flicking her that look again. The older woman shrugged.
Nina kept her voice light. ‘I think he’s upset about something.’
Maria snorted. ‘What’s he got to be upset about? Selling his family home and make all the money with no care for what a mess it all makes.’
Nina frowned. Was this what Maria and Theo had argued about?
She didn’t understand why Maria was so bothered about what Theo did with his own home.
The hotel might bring a few more tourists to the area but it was hardly going to turn into Argostoli, she thought, trying not to smile at the memory of her night with Vassilis.
She began to slice the tomatoes and strain them in the colander, as she had seen Theo do.
Maria grunted her approval and began chopping the onion, garlic and chilli, her knife moving deftly, hitting the board with a little more force than was necessary. ‘And what you smiling for like this?’ she grumbled. ‘Telling yourself a story in your head?’
Nina hastily wiped the smile from her face, dragging her thoughts away from the way Vassilis had gently stroked the hair from her face as he kissed her. ‘You know, it is his house, I don’t think it’s going to . . .’ she said.
Maria tutted. ‘Your mama would never allow it.’
Nina almost dropped the tomatoes. She had to wait a moment for her heartbeat to steady and her head to stop swimming. ‘You met my mum?’ she asked. ‘You – you knew her?’
Maria nodded. ‘Lovely girl. Just what Theo need to have adventures with.’
Nina smiled, thinking of the life Theo and Clare had built; having a family, working, holidaying. She supposed it was an adventure of sorts.
‘She was beautiful, wasn’t she?’ she said. ‘So glamorous. She always knew which clothes to wear; she was always looking her best, wasn’t she?’
Maria shrugged. ‘Well, maybe . . . in her way, I suppose.’
‘What was she like? When you knew her?’
Nina sat on the chair next to Maria, elbow on the table and chin in hand, interested in nothing but hearing about her mum now.
‘Well keep cooking and I tell you,’ Maria said. ‘But I only knew her such a short while. Your baba can tell you much more.’
Something in Nina’s stomach twisted. She stood to heat oil in a pan and add the tomatoes, onions, garlic and chilli. ‘He doesn’t really talk about her,’ she said, staring into the pan, the ingredients sizzling in the hot oil, the spices stinging her eyes and making them water.
Maria watched her thoughtfully. And as Nina sautéed the shrimp, splashed ouzo onto them and mixed all the ingredients together, Maria told her how Clare had been travelling through Kefalonia, a sweet young thing with purple hair, a huge rucksack and a ready smile.
‘Purple hair?’ Nina laughed, thinking of her mum’s glossy dark locks. That must have been a teenage phase, it certainly didn’t fit with the polished woman she’d known.
‘Oh, yes. Quite the scandal in little sleepy Metalios, what with that and the piercings.’
‘The – what? Her ears?’
‘Ears, nose, belly is all that we saw.’
Again, Nina struggled to picture a young Clare like this. Now she thought about it, she did remember that her mum had had extra piercings in her ears, though she only ever wore two earrings. The others must have healed up.
She watched as Maria crumbled feta into the sauce and placed the lid on the pan, pointing to a cupboard with a look of exasperation. ‘What, we going to eat off the table? Get some plates out then.’
‘Right, yes,’ said Nina, thinking that she’d have to adjust her image of her mum as a young woman.
Maria served the meal and they ate, the delicious mix of flavours, the rich tomato and zing of chilli and tang of feta all perfectly complementing the shrimp.
She poured them each a glass of ouzo, adding water so that the liquid turned milky, and Nina sipped the aniseed drink as she listened to Maria continue to talk about her mum; how young Clare had dazzled the village, chatting to everyone and playing with children on the shore, trying all the food in the café and scrambling up mountains to admire the best views of the beach.
There had been meals and music and drinking and dancing, and she had joined in with it all with gusto and good humour.
And Theo had fallen for her, everyone could see it.
His mama had smiled and wept at the same time, knowing her boy had found happiness, knowing she was losing him and that he would follow Clare to the ends of the earth, and be happy doing it.
Nina’s head was still swimming with images of her with purple hair and a nose stud. Then her mum smiling as she danced with the villagers in the outdoor area of the café late at night, and gazing from the mountainside at the sea, and crouched at the water’s edge, playing with small children.
Each of these was a little gift, a glimpse of her mum that she otherwise wouldn’t have had, and she reached out to squeeze the gnarled hand of the woman who’d given them to her.
‘Thank you, Maria.’ She was surprised to find her voice thick with unshed tears.
Maria smiled, her eyes sad. ‘She was lovely girl. Like you.’ Her eyes smiled too this time, and she nodded. ‘Even though terrible cook!’
Nina laughed, glancing at Maria’s empty plate. ‘You managed to force it down though, didn’t you?’
The older woman grinned. ‘I’m just polite.’
Nina snorted. ‘Yes, first thing I noticed about you. So polite.’
‘Exactly. Just ask Milo.’
Nina collected the plates and put them in the sink, then reached for her handbag. ‘Milo would say anything you want, you’re the one that feeds her.’
‘Pfft, silly girl,’ Maria said, struggling to her feet. Nina resisted the urge to help her; she knew that would only irritate her. ‘Talking nonsense. You off to help your baba now?’
The smile spread over Nina’s face in a way that she couldn’t control. ‘I’m going out with Vassilis; I need to get ready.’ She spun the bangle on her wrist, remembering her mum dressing up to go out with Theo, smiling at a young Nina in the mirror as she watched.
Maria pursed her lips.
‘What?’ said Nina.
‘Nothing.’ Whatever had bothered Maria, she shook off. ‘Well, you come back tomorrow, yes? We do some more cooking?’ She reached over and clasped Nina around the shoulders in a brief and awkward hug. Nina felt a little taken aback. And honoured.
‘Of course.’
‘And you take care tonight,’ Maria called after her as she walked through the sunlit courtyard, patting Milo’s rough neck as she dozed in the shade.
Maria being over-protective was kind of nice.
But Vassilis was the most gentlemanly man Nina had ever been out with.
He was a grown-up. He treated her well. There was no need for Maria to worry.