Lucky Millie, Selena thought grimly.
As she’d suspected ‘patient’ was hardly the word to describe her aunt, who kept her on the run from first thing in the morning until last thing at night, with the help of the little handbell she kept beside her at all times.
In addition, Millie had fussed endlessly over her packing, claiming exclusive access to the washing machine and ironing board, and providing Aunt Nora with another excuse to grumble.
It was almost a relief when Mrs Raymond arrived with Daisy and Fiona to drive them all to the airport.
One less problem to handle, Selena thought, as she closed the front door.
‘Dr Bishop says I shall need physiotherapy when the plaster is eventually removed,’ her aunt announced the following week. ‘He has given me a list of reliable practitioners who pay private visits.’
‘Isn’t it available on the National Health Service?’ asked Selena.
‘Not to the extent that I shall require,’ Aunt Nora said coldly. ‘Dr Bishop says it was such a serious fracture that I shall probably have to learn to walk all over again.’
Selena thought drily that Dr Bishop, rightly nicknamed Old Smoothie by Millie, excelled at telling her aunt exactly what she wanted to hear, and hoped the physio would have more sense.
And, talking of Millie, apart from an initial text announcing that Rhymnos was great, they’d heard nothing from her.
Still, she decided, philosophically, the parents of Daisy and Fiona were probably in the same boat, and, anyway, wasn’t no news supposed to be good news?
She’d been into town the afternoon the girls were due back, taking a list of her aunt’s requests to the public library. She expected Millie to have arrived when she got back, yet there was no clutter of luggage in the hall.
The flight must have been delayed, she thought, then heard her aunt calling her, her voice high and angry, and found her sitting upright, two bright spots of colour in her cheeks emphasising her unusual pallor.
She checked, the terrible memory of her parents’ accident striking at her, making her feel sick to her stomach with fright. ‘Has—has something happened?’
‘Oh, yes.’ Her aunt’s voice shook with fury. ‘Your sister, it seems, has involved herself with some local yob on that island and decided to stay there—to set up house with him. Apparently she’d gone from her hotel room this morning with all her things. The other girls had to leave without her.
‘Well, I won’t have it. I will not allow her to disgrace me, to make me ridiculous in front of the whole town—a child of her age. However there’s nothing I can do about it, so you’ll have to go over there and bring her back.’ She added ominously, ‘Before too much harm is done.’
Selena sank down on the nearest chair. Typical, she thought bitterly, that her aunt should see the situation in terms of personal disgrace rather than the danger to Millie and the potential ruin of her future.
She said, ‘Who is the man? Do Daisy and Fiona know?’
‘It seems he’s the barman at the Hotel Olympia where they were staying. His name is Kostas.’ Aunt Nora pronounced the name with acute distaste then held out a piece of paper that had been crumpled in her hand. ‘She left this note.’ She shuddered. ‘Mrs Raymond could hardly look me in the eye. I blame her entirely for allowing this trip in the first place and then badgering me to let Amelia be part of it.
‘But that, of course, won’t stop her telling the entire town what’s happened. She’s probably already started.’
Selena read the note frowningly. Millie said simply that she was not coming back to England because she loved Kostas and was staying with him.
So, not much room for negotiation there, she thought.
‘As you can see, there’s no time to lose.’ Aunt Nora was regaining some of her old briskness. ‘So, you go there, you find her and you bring her back. That’s all there is to be said.’
She added decisively, ‘I will not have my plans for the future of the school wrecked by some childish infatuation. Men like this barman should be locked up.’
Selena tried to reason with her, pointing out that Millie was not a child and it might be better to let her realise her mistake and return of her own accord.
And how, she asked, would her aunt manage without her, only to discover that Aunt Nora had already booked a live-in carer.
‘Terribly expensive,’ she’d said sourly. ‘I hope Amelia realises the inconvenience she’s causing.’
But nothing Selena said made the slightest difference, which was why, only two days later she found herself on board the ferry from Mykonos with the harbour at Rhymnos already in sight.
She was in no mood to appreciate the attractive scene it presented, with its tangle of caiques and motor cruisers, and beyond them the row of tavernas and shops fronting the waterside.
And above them, on the hillside and not nearly as impressive as its name, picked out in large blue letters on the white walls, stood the Hotel Olympia.
Enemy in sight, thought Selena grimly as she picked up the big canvas satchel that served as her luggage and slung it over her shoulder.
As she came ashore she was assailed by a chorus of whistles and other bids to attract her attention by the young men mending fishing nets or waiting on tables at the tavernas.
No wonder Millie, released from the kind of purdah existing at Meade House Cottage, had been such easy game for an unscrupulous local, she thought.
Daisy and Fiona, with obvious reluctance, had volunteered a few details—his full name, Kostas Papoulis, young, good-looking, full of himself, and—with a shrug—sexy.
Besides, Daisy had added with faint malice, she hadn’t thought that he was that interested in Millie. Just—playing around.
Selena wanted to slap her. Hard.
On the other hand, if this had also occurred to Millie by now, it might make her own task much easier.
The short walk up to the hotel was blisteringly hot, and she began to think longingly of iced water.
From the road, a path led up through borders bright with flowers to a terrace running the length of the frontage, and a pair of glass doors.
The foyer was light and airy, with a marble floor and a polished reception desk, currently unattended.
But Selena headed straight for the door labelled ‘Bar’, immediately opposite, and, drawing a deep breath, she walked in.
Once again, it seemed entirely deserted. Where was everyone? she wondered, as she looked about her. It was as if the entire establishment had been abducted by aliens.
Which the aliens could have done with her good wishes, she thought, just as long as they hadn’t taken Millie.
But as she hesitated, she heard above the hiss and bubble of the coffee machine on the end of the counter, an unmistakable chink of bottles coming from behind a curtained doorway at the rear of the bar itself.
She walked to the counter, sliding her bag from her shoulder to the floor, and coughed loudly. When there was no immediate response, she followed it up with an imperative, ‘Hello.’
The curtain was swept back, and a man appeared, clipboard in hand, his frowning gaze scanning her impatiently.
Selena found she was staring back, hoping she didn’t look as shocked as she felt because he bore little resemblance to the arrogant young stud described by Daisy, or any of the grinning lads she’d encountered at the harbour.
For one thing he was clearly older, probably in his late twenties, tall, swarthy, and in