Chapter Thirteen
A hammer seemed to be pounding at her skull, smashing against bone again and again.
Nina groaned and rolled over, pulling the sheet over her head.
The light streaking through the cracks in the shutter stabbed her eyes.
Her stomach lilted unpleasantly as she turned and her mouth felt as though a crab had crawled in there and died.
She was ragingly thirsty, and hadn’t thought to bring a glass of water to bed with her last night.
The pounding started up again, her head throbbing with every slam, and she realised that it wasn’t just her hangover, but an actual sound coming from outside her room.
Staggering out of bed, the contents of her stomach cresting dangerously for a moment, she went to track down the godforsaken noise and make it stop.
The sound was coming from the kitchen, where Theo was slamming a hammer into the old cupboards and tearing them off the wall, sweating and red in the face.
‘Baba,’ she croaked.
He continued, apparently unaware of her presence.
‘Baba!’ A yell this time, and he stopped, jumping and turning to her with his eyes wide, pressing a hand to his chest.
‘What you doing, giving me a heart attack like this?’ he asked, staggering back and dropping the hammer on the floor with a clatter. He blew out a breath, his round cheeks puffing out, and leaned against the side.
Nina poured herself a glass of water, sipping at it with relief, feeling it cool and calm her throbbing head with each mouthful.
‘You should be on the stage with acting skills like that,’ she said, shaking her head, and then wishing she hadn’t.
‘Ouch,’ she groaned. ‘And I should be asking what you’re doing, making such a racket first thing on a Sunday morning. ’
‘I – first thing? First –’ He opened his eyes even wider.
One of these days they’d fall right out of his head.
He threw his arms in the air and looked around as though there was someone else there to share his outrage.
But it was just the two of them. ‘It’s afternoon, lazy girl, you slept away the morning. ’
‘Oh, I –’ She tapped Theo’s phone where it sat on the side to see the time: two thirty. ‘Oh. Okay then.’
Theo looked hurt. ‘And you said you’d help me with the work today but I end up doing it alone and then get a telling-off for it.’
Nina went over to him and put her arm through his, resting her head on his shoulder.
‘Sorry, Baba. I’ll make it up to you.’ The sun was like a blade through her head.
She wouldn’t be doing any DIY today. ‘I’ll help tomorrow.
But it is Sunday, why don’t we go for a walk to the beach and get some breakfast at the café? ’
He raised his eyebrows.
Nina shrugged. ‘Well okay – breakfast for me, lunch for you.’
‘Late lunch,’ he said. But she could see he was mollified. ‘Okay then. You can buy me lunch. But have a shower first, eh? Smell like a beer garden.’
She didn’t remember offering to pay, but he was smiling now, so she said nothing.
There were shadows under his eyes and she wondered whether he was sleeping well; he usually slept like a log and ate like a horse, enjoying all life’s small pleasures with enthusiasm, but he still didn’t seem himself.
She was a little worried about him, and guilt that she’d slept in and let him down pinched at her.
It wasn’t like her to drink so much and stay out so late, she thought as she stood in the shower, relieved as the water gently washed away the remnants of last night. She began to feel fresher and more awake.
Vassilis had taken her to Argostoli again, arriving with a beautifully wrapped box of chocolates for her, and the evening had started early and finished late.
They began in a bar, one of the most beautiful she’d ever been in, with cream walls and gentle lighting and the hushed murmur of exclusivity.
The cocktails had been expensive, delicious and deceptively strong.
They sat on a cream leather sofa that curved into a quiet corner and was sheltered from the other customers.
Vassilis was so close, his strong thigh resting next to hers, the heat of his body seeping into hers as he asked about her life in England and listened intently to her replies, and she felt like she was in heaven.
It was a far cry from the loud crowds of work colleagues on her nights out with Sam.
This was followed by another high-end restaurant, and they sat on a terrace overlooking the harbour, under strings of fairy lights.
The tables were spaced out to afford privacy, and they were clearly at the best one with the best view.
She couldn’t help but admire the weight of the luxury silverware and tablecloth, the sparkling crystal of the glasses their wine was served in.
‘This place is stunning,’ she had murmured as he pulled out the chair for her to sit in. ‘But you shouldn’t be spending all your hard-earned money on me.’
His dad’s building firm must be doing very well, she thought. Vassilis had inherited a thriving business, clearly.
He brushed the back of her neck with his lips, sending shivers down her spine. ‘Well, here is a secret. Don’t tell anyone,’ he said softly. The warmth of his breath almost had her swooning. ‘But the owner is –’
‘Let me guess – a friend of yours?’
He laughed as he sat down, looking rueful. ‘Now you understand it. So I am getting the – how do you say it? Friends’ rate.’
‘You have some useful friends!’
He nodded. ‘Very good friends, yes. I am fortunate. And I am very happy to share my good fortune with the woman I have come to like, very much.’
Nina smiled, blushing. The diamonds on her bangle glinted in the light as she reached for the wine, and she wished her mum could see her now.
All her life Nina had tried to be the Clare she’d known: effortlessly beautiful, sophisticated, worthy of pampering.
She felt that now, with Vassilis, she was finally there.
This was how he saw her, as Theo had seen her mum perhaps, and she loved it.
And even though the earlier version of Clare, with her purple hair and multiple piercings, didn’t quite fit with the version she remembered, in a way, it was more precious for that; to get a glimpse of her mum as a teenage rebel, someone who forged her own path and had her own unique style.
The stuffed peppers she ordered were perfection, and soon disappeared as she listened to Vassilis’s hilarious stories of some disastrous or tasteless building jobs he’d done.
She laughed so hard she almost spat rice across the linen cloth as he described in wicked detail the client who’d insisted he extend the textured wallpaper from the walls to the ceiling of her bedroom, and then had him paint over it in pink gloss, and the man who wanted leopard print on his outside walls.
‘Well, each to their own, I suppose,’ she said, hiccupping down a laugh and taking a sip of wine.
He shook his head, straightening his knife and fork. ‘Exactly. But you, you would never allow this ugly choice, I know it. You have the best taste, I can see from even what you do in Theo’s house, and what you tell me about your job in Manchester.’
‘Thanks.’ She had smiled. ‘I do have some ideas about the house, you know, if we were staying. Wooden floors in the bedrooms and a blue theme running through with borders and door handles, maybe, and beautiful, subtle ornaments, just a few in each room, simple vases like a Liang and Eimil Wiley perhaps, and . . .’
He had sat back in his chair, dark eyes on her. ‘Sounds like you have plans.’
‘Oh –’ She waved a hand, dismissing the images that had filled her mind.
‘Not really. Just – dreaming, I suppose.’ It was hard to shake this urge, to fill the rooms and make them her own, and she couldn’t help but imagine welcoming guests to this beautiful place she and Theo would create, seeing their faces as they took in the understated, elegant beauty.
What a haven she would make, a perfectly calm place to holiday in beautiful Metalios.
Vassilis leaned forward, laying his arm across the table and holding his hand out. She placed hers in his, losing herself and all her dreams of a guesthouse in his dark eyes.
‘This is your dream. This beautiful home you make, and I know you will do it if it is what you wish. So talented and smart. But you are my dream, this beautiful woman come to my life.’ He grinned and cocked his head to the side.
‘Is the cheesy thing to say, I know. But it is true.’ He raised her hand and kissed it, and the heat of his lips made her dizzy. ‘I have something for you,’ he said.
Gently, he released her and reached into his pocket, bringing out a silver necklace that dangled from his finger. She took it from him, feeling the fine chain.
‘You like it, yes?’
‘It’s beautiful. Thank you.’
He stood and took the necklace from her, and she lifted her hair so that he could fasten it around her neck. ‘Beautiful,’ he murmured, kissing her collarbone.
Afterwards, they went to another bar. Nina didn’t realise quite how much she’d drunk until he helped her out of the taxi when they got home, and the ground beneath her tilted a little.
‘Oops.’ She’d giggled, holding onto his arm, and he’d laughed.
‘Oh dear, we have too much of the Ovilos. Come, I’ll help you.’
She protested that she was fine, but his arm was strong and warm around her waist, and she was happy for him to guide her up to her bedroom. She pulled him over to the bed and kissed him passionately, but he gently eased himself from her embrace, resting his forehead against hers and groaning.
‘I want to, believe me,’ he whispered, brushing the hair from her face and gazing into her eyes. ‘But you’re a little drunk, and you might . . . I don’t want you to wish we didn’t . . .’
Nina looked up into his chiselled face, felt his strong arms around her. She very much doubted she’d wish they didn’t.
But he kissed her one last time, and left, and after smiling at how respectful he’d been, Nina fell into bed without taking her makeup off or drinking the water she so badly needed.
Vassilis must have been a little worse for wear too, because she’d heard him stumbling around downstairs before he left, walking into a couple of rooms before he eventually found the front door.
Refreshed now, she stepped out of the shower and dressed in a sensible vest, skirt and sandals, stopping to fasten the necklace Vassilis had given her around her neck.
‘My god, you take so long,’ Theo grumbled as she finished applying her suncream. ‘A man could die of starvation waiting.’
‘Baba you’re such a drama queen – I didn’t even put on makeup!’ She grinned. ‘Maybe I should just take a minute to . . .’
Theo wilted against the kitchen counter, still covered with bits of wood and dust, pressing a hand to his head. ‘So hungry, I’m going to faint.’
Nina linked her arm through his as they walked out.
‘Good grief,’ she said. ‘You’re such a drama queen, Baba.’