Playfully, I punched his arm. ‘I’m being serious. Stefan got ill yesterday, didn’t he?’
‘Yes. Strange, as the weather has been milder than normal lately. We take pills with us today, for sickness. Even the toughest fishermen suffer now and again, regardless of the waves’ size.’ Niko gave a wry smile. ‘He swears a cigarette cures everything but even that didn’t help.’
You see, that was really interesting. I thought once a strong sailor always – but clearly not. And other things – lots – about his job, fascinated me, like the purpose of all the different lines, bait and hooks. I didn’t need to talk finance to get turned on. Definitely not. So what was the problem of going to London? My old life had no real, concrete allure for me.
‘I still don’t think you should go out every day, at this time of year. It’d be freezing if you fell in,’ I said. ‘If only you’d let me dip into my savings and—’
‘Please,’ he said, voice suddenly remote. ‘We’ve discussed this before. No one pays my way. You feel the same, no? Wanting to run your scone business… How would you feel if I gave you money weekly, to top up any losses? Where would that leave your motivation and pride?’
‘But my life isn’t in danger kneading dough.’
‘No, but it is dangerous to rely on savings. I prefer to work hard as if my life depends on it.’
‘Your life might depend on it sooner than you thought, if there was a sudden storm or higher winds blew in.’
He raised one eyebrow at me.
‘Fine,’ I muttered.
Niko turned to go.
‘Leaving without a kiss? Don’t say we’ve already come to that.’
He spun around and took my hands.
‘Sorry, Pippa. I appreciate your generosity but…I respect you so much. How industrious you must have worked to build those savings back in England. Now let me put all my energies into saving money – we are equals, no?’
‘Yes. And talking about England, there’s something I wanted to say, before you go. Last night…seeing Henrik…’ Here goes. No time like the present for mentioning the engagement party trip. But Niko held up his hand. An indescribable emotion swept over his face.
‘I know times are difficult here, compared to in flash London.’ He stood a little straighter. ‘Seeing Henrik made our situation seem even more wearing, no? Taxos isn’t like that sparkly city, but we…we make our own sparkles.’ Niko gave one of his lopsided smiles. ‘Things always come good with dedicated work and honest intentions. Things will get better, but don’t feel guilty about missing London. It is only natural. I understand.’
Heat flooded my cheeks. I loved Niko not only for his exotic yumminess but his super-sensitive instincts. Oh, he didn’t know the value of pi, like geeky me, but he was so perceptive; considerate of people’s feelings; sharp as that winter island breeze when it came to reading people – a bit like Grandma but without the coffee sediment.
So, I didn’t need to go to this party I decided, as I headed off to the butcher’s. Niko was right. I could make sparkles enough in Taxos. I mean, us going to London a couple of days before Christmas and the fair and a week before the wedding? What had I been thinking?
Swinging my basket, I waved to Pandora as I passed the bakery and headed on to the butcher’s. One thing about the winter – I missed the tropical chirp of cicadas. Instead the shrieks of gulls accompanied my footsteps. Mmm. As I passed by, my eyes lingered on Pandora’s pastries. On the way back, a couple of those custard and syrup beauties might just find their way into my basket. Sophia was keeping an eye on the teashop whilst I popped out. It could be quiet on a Monday morning, but picked up as the afternoon progressed, especially when parents collected their children from school and gave in to requests for one of my latest dark chocolate and thick yogurt sandwich scones – think five centimetre high Oreo biscuits.
I veered left at the top of the main street, and turned down a fork in the road, past the Vesteros’ hotel. Demetrios’ pottery was easy to spot in the distance as, painted aubergine, it was one of the few buildings in Taxos not coloured blue and white. The distinctive smell of raw meat reached my nostrils and I entered the butcher’s shop. The local school’s retired head teacher, Miss Valli, dressed in smart pink beret and anorak, bought lamb. She chatted briefly to Mrs Manos in Greek and then came towards me.
‘Hello, Pippa. Sorry if I kept you waiting. I’ve just been boring Mrs Manos with talk of my new little dog.’ Long silver earrings dangled either side of her cheeks.
‘I saw him the other day!’ I said. ‘What gorgeous coffee coloured fur.’
‘He is a handful!’ she said. ‘But has already stolen a piece of my heart – and I must have lost a couple of kilograms in weight with all the walking. My niece owned him but sadly she has developed an allergy to the fur.’
Mrs Manos waved goodbye to Miss Valli, looked at me and her cheeks flushed as I entered the shop. She avoided my eye.
‘Ya sou, Pippa.’ she said, from behind the counter. ‘We have nice lean beef today.’
I gazed around the clinical shop, with its whitewashed walls and silver units. Sophia said there always used to be a bowl of free boiled sweets for children – since Yanis moved in, that had gone.
‘No – thank you…’ I smiled. ‘We are using up meat out of the refrigerators at the moment – trying to make room in there for wedding food we are going to make early and freeze.’
Mrs Manos wrung her hands, producing a squeaky noise as she wore plastic gloves. ‘I no blame you – with your wedding and…this Christmas fair, it will be a busy time of year for the Sotiropoulos family. You need to prepare ahead.’ Her gaze met mine. ‘Look, sorry, Pippa. Please forgive me for not being very supportive yesterday. In fact, I was rude. It is just with money the way it is…and then poor Mrs Vesteros’ dog…my emotions just burst out.’
‘No need to explain,’ I said softly. ‘These are stressful times for all of us and I know how fond you are of dogs.’ I handed over the basket. ‘I do hope these cheer you up, just a bit.’
For a moment the deep lines in her forehead disappeared and she lifted the tea-towel. Her chin showed the slightest tremble.
‘You a kind girl. Why don’t I shut up shop for twenty minutes? We have one of these with a coffee?’
‘Really? Yes, of course – if you are sure.’
Mrs Manos shrugged. ‘Mondays always slow – trade picks up towards the end of the week, when families decide they deserve a good meal at the weekend.’ She walked to the door and flipped the open sign around, so that it said closed. Then we made our way around the counter. I followed her into the back, through a white-tiled room with massive refrigerators and a big blood-stained knife on one of the units. We arrived in the house at the back. Eventually we ended up in a cosy, ramshackle kitchen, the sink full of plates and empty dog food cans on the units.
‘Sorry about the mess,’ said Mrs Manos and fetched two clean plates. ‘My daughter-in-law, Maria… She has been feeling a bit low and Yanis and I have to look after my grandson and the dogs as well as the shop and—’
‘Please don’t apologise,’ I said and put down the basket on the small pine kitchen table. ‘Family life and mess go hand in hand.’ I walked up to a photo on the wall by the back door. ‘What a beautiful wedding dress. You and Mr Manos look so happy.’
‘And young.’ She laughed.
I hadn’t heard Mrs Manos laugh before and turned around. It took twenty years off her face. I glanced at the sink, took off my coat and rolled up my jumper’s sleeves. Around the kitchen stood pottery loggerhead turtles of all sizes, plus one on a fridge magnet.
‘I never knew you were