Page 75 of The Greek Café

‘Night, Mum.’

THIRTY-EIGHT

As I catch sight of my reflection in a mirror in the hotel bar I thank goodness I packed a black, off-the-shoulder dress for my dinner with Zeta and Takis. I have dressed the look up with jewellery and a slash of my Chanel red lipstick that I wear on special occasions. Zeta looks sensational in a white trouser suit, and her hair softly curled.

Sitting on barstools at the hotel bar with its mirrored backdrop and bottles of every drink imaginable, I notice Takis arrive.

Oh my goodness, someone pass me the smelling salts. He looks effortlessly sexy in a light-grey suit, with a black T-shirt beneath. He greets us both with a kiss on the cheek. He smells delicious.

‘You both look amazing,’ he tells me, as his eyes meet mine. ‘Beautiful, in fact.’

‘You look great too,’ I manage to stutter.

‘So, shall we go?’

‘You are not driving,’ Zeta tells Takis as she glances at her watch. ‘No one goes to Aphrodite’s without drinking the wine. Which I am buying,’ she says firmly. ‘Our taxi should be outside any minute.’

‘Well, if you insist.’ Takis smiles. ‘A glass of wine would be nice.’

Seated in the back seat of the taxi next to Takis, his presence stirs something in me once more.

Outside, the sun begins to drop, the sky gently streaked with pink and orange. I gaze out of the window, trying not to move too much, in case our legs touch.

The taxi pulls up quickly as a few mountain goats wander into the road, pushing our shoulders together in the back seat. It seems like forever before they decide to move on. Our driver, apparently accustomed to it, is unfazed as he chats to Zeta as we wait.

We drive on and I gaze out of the window once more, trying to regulate my heartbeat. I wish Takis had sat in the front instead of Zeta. Isn’t that what most blokes would have done? But then I recall Zeta opening the front door of the car and greeting the driver like an old friend.

Despite the pleasant views out of the window, I am hoping the restaurant isn’t too far away. Part of me wishes it was just me and Zeta heading out for a meal as I originally planned, before Takis hijacked the evening.

After what seems like a lot longer than ten minutes, we pull into a village, welcomed by the twinkle of lights adorning a large olive tree at the centre of a mini roundabout, surrounded by a low stone wall. The sound of music and conversation is spilling from several bars and tavernas that line the street.

I step out of the taxi and smooth down my dress that had ridden up in the back seat. I am pretty sure Takis kept glancing at my legs. I am looking forward to a large glass of wine.

I reach into my bag to pay for the taxi, but Zeta tells me it has been taken care of, as the driver disappears with a hoot of his horn.

‘Good evening, Zeta.’

A man around Zeta’s age greets her with a kiss, before welcoming us inside.

‘Evening, Eduardo.’

‘I have reserved the best table for you.’ He smiles as he guides us through.

I look around in wonder at the seriously beautiful restaurant, and feel relieved for the second time to have packed my black, off-the-shoulder knee-length dress in my suitcase.

The hotel has Greek columns, gold chandeliers and an opulence I did not expect.

‘When you said you knew a nice restaurant, you weren’t joking,’ I tell Takis as we are shown to our seats.

‘The food is amazing,’ he says as a waiter hands us a menu, before he disappears then returns with a carafe of water and glasses.

I glance around at the diners, some dressed in their best outfits, others in smart-casual dress, but no one in shorts or beachwear. The sound of Greek music is playing gently in the background and the scent of mouth-watering food fills the air.

Zeta orders the wine and a waiter swiftly appears asking if we would like to try it.

‘Go ahead,’ Zeta says to me. ‘Make sure it is okay for you.’

I sip the full-bodied red wine with a velvety texture that tastes nothing like the usual stuff I buy at the supermarket or the local pub back home.