She took another gulp of brandy. ‘And if he’s keeping her here against her will?’
‘Once again you are allowing your taste for the dramatic to run away with you,’ Alexis Constantinou said softly. ‘Kostas, believe me, has no need to use force.’
‘You take all this so lightly.’ Her voice shook. ‘When I’m worried sick, and I—I can’t leave without her.’
She paused. ‘I shall have to go to the police.’
‘I would prefer that not to happen.’
Her voice rose indignantly. ‘You’re actually protecting him?’
‘No,’ he said, with faint grimness. ‘I am protecting the reputation of my hotel. And for that, I am prepared to help you. Give me a day, maybe two, to make enquiries. To find where he is and if your sister is indeed with him. But that is all. After that, it is up to you. Do you agree?’
Selena stared down at the table. Almost in spite of herself, she could feel the warmth of the brandy quelling her inner trembling. A sense of something like hope growing in its place. Which was, of course, quite ridiculous under the circumstances.
She said, ‘How do I know I can trust you?’
‘Because stock-taking bores me,’ he said. ‘I want my barman back. His absence is inconvenient.’
She glared at him. She said mutinously, ‘In that case—I suppose we have a deal.’ She reached for her satchel and got to her feet. ‘Thank you for the drink, and I hope your plan succeeds.’
‘Wait,’ he said. ‘I need to know where to contact you.’ He eyed her narrowly. ‘You have made a reservation, found a place to stay, of course.’
She hesitated. Fatally. ‘Not yet, but I’m sure I’ll find somewhere.’
‘I do not doubt it.’ His tone was cynical. ‘With that hair and those eyes, pedhi mou, you will be overwhelmed with offers in the first moment. In fact, your sister, wherever she may be, is probably much safer.’
She was shaken by that altogether too intimate reference to her appearance. She said coldly, ‘I’m a university student, Mr Constantinou. I can look after myself. I can make my own arrangements—and my own enquiries.’
‘The English, I think, have a saying,’ he drawled. ‘“Famous last words.” Perhaps you know it.’
‘Nevertheless...’
‘Nevertheless, thespinis, you will not go into the town asking for a room to rent. I shall not permit it. Besides, how can you enquire about anything when you do not speak Greek?’
He rose to his feet. ‘The Olympia is fully booked, but I have a small flat on the top floor for my personal use. You may stay there.’
‘We have another quaint old saying in my country.’ She faced him, lifting her chin. ‘“Out of the frying pan into the fire.” Maybe you’ve heard that, too.’
He said silkily, ‘And you, pedhi mou, should not jump to conclusions. I shall stay at my house, the Villa Helios, on the other side of the island. A safe enough distance, wouldn’t you say?’
There were a lot of things she would like to have said, but she only managed a reluctant, ‘Thank you.’
Alexis Constantinou nodded. ‘Now I will speak to my housekeeper about your accommodation. And you perhaps should finish your brandy.’
As he walked to the door, Selena said, ‘Why have you changed your mind suddenly? I—I don’t understand.’
‘You think I should not concern myself over the well-being of an innocent and inexperienced girl?’
‘A moment ago you were implying that Millie’s problems are all of her own making.’
‘I still do,’ he said. ‘But the innocent I speak of is not your sister, thespinis, but yourself.’
And he walked out of the bar, leaving Selena staring after him.
‘EXCUSE ME, DO you want to order anything else? Only there are people waiting for tables.’
The aggrieved tone of the waitress jolted Selena back to the present.
‘I’ve finished, thank you.’ She tried a smile. ‘I’m sorry, I was miles away.’
Worlds away. An ocean of pain away, she thought as the girl gathered up the used crockery and walked away with a faint sniff.
Back in the honeyed trap that she’d thought was kindness. Caught by a man who was neither innocent nor inexperienced.
And now she had to go back to where it all happened. To Rhymnos—the place where she’d ruined her life and broken her heart.
At the same time, it was her chance to prove to herself that she had survived. Even mended.
As she left, she passed the young couple waiting for her table, and saw that the man was wearing a baby sling across his chest, cradling an infant obviously in its first weeks of life, its over-large cotton sun hat slipping down over a red, crumpled, sleeping face.
Saw, too, the way the young father looked down proudly at his child, then exchanged smiles with the pretty girl beside him in shared delight.
Selena felt a sudden twist of agony inside her, as if a hand had reached into her and wrenched at her heart, then she turned slowly and walked away, to tackle her final and most important problem.
The interview had proved just as difficult as she’d anticipated, she thought unhappily as she walked home.
‘You’re going on holiday?’ Mrs Talbot had radiated disapproval. ‘Do you think that’s appropriate?’
‘Unavoidable, I’m afraid,’ Selena had returned quietly. ‘And it’s hardly a holiday. My sister is ill.’
‘All the same, you’ll be missing scheduled visits, which is very disappointing—for everyone.’
She was almost tempted to cancel, but, in the end, she simply sent Kostas a text with the time of her flight.
She made herself a cheese salad before she emptied and cleaned the fridge. Then she stuffed the contents of her linen basket into a large carrier bag, and set off to the nearby launderette.
She’d taken a book to read, but she found it difficult to lose herself in the story when other thoughts, other memories persisted in intervening. In pushing aside all other considerations.
Forcing her to go back to that first day on Rhymnos and that fateful encounter at the Hotel Olympia.
Left alone in the bar, she’d taken one more sip of brandy, then pushed the glass away. She’d already made one idiotic mistake, she reminded herself, and there was no need to muddle her thinking any further.
Because she had to decide very quickly whether to remain here and accept the help Alexis Constantinou had offered, or grab her bag and run.
In principle, her mission had seemed simple enough. Come to the hotel, confront this Kostas, who might be having second thoughts himself by now, and convince Millie that a holiday romance was not a commitment for life, and it was time to go home.
It had never occurred to her, or presumably Aunt Nora, that the pair might disappear.
And where would she go, anyway? If the Olympia was full, it might not be easy to find a respectable alternative—although Alexis Constantinou’s offer of his private flat hardly qualified as that, either, in spite of his assurances.