Page 22 of The Greek Café

I consider her comments but feel that with a little vision and maybe a modern touch, it could be a beautiful kafenion in the prettiest of surroundings. A little sanctuary in the lemon grove that offer refreshments to weary walkers.

‘I imagine it was lovely. And could be again,’ I tell her.

‘Hmm. You want to buy?’ She looks at me through suspicious-looking brown eyes.

‘I never came here to buy a café,’ I tell her. ‘In fact, nothing could be further from the truth. But maybe the locals would love to see the café up and running again. Did it get busy?’ I find myself asking. I can hardly believe I am asking questions.

‘Some days yes. Other days quiet,’ she tells me honestly.

I think of all the lone travellers these days, especially young people, hoisting rucksacks on their backs and going off exploring. A little sign could be erected near the main road directing people to the café. A little marketing could bring the kafenion to people’s attention, I am certain of it. And that watermelon guy might even profit from the footfall too.

‘I could have a go at some traditional Greek food,’ I tell her. ‘Although it would be more snacks, I imagine. I once worked at my aunt’s café.’

‘Well, if you needed any help with Greek recipes, I could help,’ she says kindly.

‘Thank you, I will bear that in mind.’

I try and imagine how it must have felt for her to abandon the café, unable to carry on without her husband, locked in her grief. Perhaps it was a cash flow problem too.

‘Many people have told me they would like to buy it,’ she tells me. ‘But they did not. And look now,’ she says wistfully as she glances at the neglected building. ‘My daughter is not interested. She has her own important job.’

I ask her to write her name and number and put it into my phone.

‘Thank you, Ireta, my name is Erin. I will be in touch, I promise,’ I find myself saying.

She grasps my hand in both of hers.

‘I would like the life to be breathed into the kafenion,’ she tells me. ‘It would be my wish to see customers come once more before I die.’ She once more raises her eyes to heaven.

When we say goodbye, I feel filled with something I cannot quite explain. A compulsion maybe? A desire, a pull. Whatever it is, I can visualise the café in all its glory, with pots of colourful plants adorning the patio area, and a bright-blue painted door. By the time I have finished my walk and arrived back at the hotel, I feel a tingle of excitement I haven’t felt in a long time. I decide to make some enquiries about it and hope I don’t lose my nerve. As strange as it sounds, I feel as if the little café has been waiting for me.

FOURTEEN

That evening, I call Mum. I hold off telling her about the café in the lemon grove – she seems desperate to tell me her news anyway, and I learn that her and Douglas will be heading off on a month-long cruise.

‘Douglas has life savings, and I have your dad’s life insurance. We are going to have an adventure whilst we are still able to do so,’ she tells me. ‘Not quite a world cruise, but we cover a lot of places in the Caribbean.’

I know it is something Mum aways wanted to do, but Dad wasn’t so keen so I am happy she has the opportunity to go with a good friend like Douglas. I still feel she is running away from her emotions at times, keeping herself busy but it has always been the way she deals with things.

‘That sounds nice,’ I tell her. ‘Thank goodness for FaceTime so we can keep in touch.’

‘But don’t worry about my spending; at least half of your dad’s insurance will always be here for you,’ she tells me.

‘Mum, I don’t expect anything,’ I tell her for the umpteenth time. ‘Spend it. Have as many adventures as you can.’

‘Oh, I have more than enough for that,’ she tells me breezily. ‘And you know we had a little savings plan for you, that has been in a high interest account for years, so it has built up nicely.’

‘Really?’ I say in surprise. She has never mentioned that before.

‘Yes. So in total, I think you have around a hundred and fifty thousand pounds,’ she says casually.

I swallow slowly. One hundred and fifty thousand pounds? I am flabbergasted. I had no idea it would be that much. I also have my redundancy payout. I would trade all of it to have my dear dad here though. He was taken far too soon and I miss him every single day. It seems he is still looking after me, and I swallow down a lump in my throat.

‘And of course, you can have it whenever you like,’ says Mum. ‘In fact, the most recent saving term ends next month, so you could release some money then if you like?’

The timing could not be more perfect. It’s as if my destiny has been decided by the Greek gods. Maybe it really is time to breathe life into the old café.

I decide not to say anything to my mum yet. At least not until I have figured out the practicalities.