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Níko’s son, Christian, had come by to wish his father a happy birthday. Teresa had immediately put him to work too, checking out a discrepancy in the taverna accounts. Which was why he was sitting at the family table inside the restaurant, munching on one of his mother’s homemade kalitsounia pastries while tapping numbers into a calculator.

Christian had returned to Ithos only a week ago – he was a crew member on one of Demetrios’s yachts. Already, Grace had come to look forward to his occasional visits to the taverna. He was the eldest of Níko’s three children, in his late twenties. Grace didn’t think she had ever seen him let his hair down, but there was a quiet self-possession to him that she admired. Something that she wished she had.

She found herself at the coffee machine studying his features as he knitted his brow in concentration. Unlike most Greeks she had met, he had sandy blond hair. Níko would joke that he had been left at the door of the taverna by the stork, but Teresa told her that her own grandmother had German blood and that was why he didn’t have dark hair like her other children.

Grace was just wishing she could get a little closer to see what colour eyes he had when, almost as if he had heard her thinking, he looked up and caught her eyes with his own. She quickly looked away, blushing. Definitely blue.

When she glanced back again, he was still calmly looking at her, smiling, so she smiled in return. He beckoned her to come over and chat.

‘I’m a bit busy, I don’t want to make Teresa cross.’ Grace tilted her head in apology.

He smiled. ‘I am a valued customer and my mother will not mind if it’s me you’re chatting with.’ He gestured to his mother, pointing at Grace and indicating he wanted to talk to her. Teresa shook her finger at him and made the universal sign-language motion for ‘five minutes only’.

Grace wiped her hands down on her apron and smoothed the stray strands of dark hair from her face; the rest of it was pulled back in a scrunchie.

‘Sit down, Grace. I have a present for you.’ Grace liked the way his tongue rolled around the r in her name. He reached behind him into his back pocket and pulled something out of it with a flourish.

‘My passport – finally!’ She clapped her hands in delight and had to strongly resist the urge to kiss him.

Demetrios had placed some calls shortly after she had arrived, and his contact in the police had phoned him a week later to say that the thieves who’d robbed her had been apprehended on Kythira. She’d thought that her passport would have been sold on the black market, but it turned out one of them had given it to his sister. Demetrios had arranged for Christian to pick it up on her behalf.

‘Oh, thank you, Christian, I can’t believe it has taken so long to get here.’

He blushed. ‘Sorry about that. Demetrios had arranged for me to collect it from police headquarters in Crete, but it turned out someone had sent it to Athens – so local bureaucracy was partly to blame for the delay. But then we took a longer route back to Ithos than we’d originally planned, and by the time I got here I’d completely forgotten I had it.’

‘It doesn’t matter, I’m just so glad to have it back. I must find some way to thank you.’

‘The smile on your face is enough for me.’ Grace found her grin spreading even wider at his words. ‘Now you are free to leave,’ he told her.

‘Oh, I don’t think I can; Teresa says this is the busiest part of summer with all the day-trippers from the other islands. I don’t start university until late September, so I can stay on for another month or so.’

A grin broke across Christian’s face that matched her own. ‘That’s wonderful!’ He checked himself, ‘I mean, it’s wonderful that my parents won’t have to find another waitress at short notice. They are always saying what a help you are,’ he added.

At that moment, there was a commotion at the front of the taverna. The sound of wolf whistles and a honking of horns drifted in from the square. Grace looked out to see a young woman wearing the tiniest pair of denim shorts and a crocheted bikini top with a wide-brimmed sun hat. She was attracting the attention of the local boys as she headed into the restaurant carrying a box filled with baklava; she turned around and blew them a kiss, which was returned with more blaring of horns and good-natured catcalls.

‘Ariana,’ Christian said with a shake of his head, ‘must you always make such an entrance?’

‘Those boys, they are so juvenile … Christian!’ Ariana leaned in and gave him a kiss, lingering a little.

‘Hi, Ariana,’ Grace said. ‘I love your Roman sandals.’

Ariana gave a her a brief glance and looked down at the golden strappy sandals. ‘Oh, these old things.’ She then turned to Christian and proceeded to completely ignore Grace.

Grace had become used to Ariana’s high-handed manner. She was a frequent visitor, especially since Christian had showed up, but Grace thought he seemed to know when Ariana was on the lookout for him and deliberately made himself scarce.

‘I can’t wait for the party tonight, Christian. I’ve brought baklava from Yaya. She and Papa are both coming later.’ She took off her hat, and her straight dark hair spilled out fetchingly across her shoulders.

‘Grace is coming too, aren’t you?’ Christian said, politely bringing Grace into the conversation.

Ariana gave her a dismissive look. ‘Yes, it’s nice that the staff are allowed to come as well as the real guests.’

‘Grace is also a guest, Ari, and a very welcome one.’ He looked at Grace warmly and she couldn’t help but smile back.

‘I’m really looking forward to it.’

Ariana was trying to hide a scowl and failing. She turned her back on Grace and leaned into Christian. ‘You must dance with me, Christian. I’m wearing a special dress for the occasion.’

Christian pulled back from her slightly. ‘I’m not much of dancer, Ariana.’