Page 60
‘Spoilsport.’ Ariana changed tack. ‘When are you going to take me out in the boat? You always say you will and never do. You must take me out tomorrow, you have a day off, it’s Sunday and Papa never works on a Sunday.’
‘I can’t,’ he answered quickly.
‘Why not?’ Ariana stuck her lip out petulantly.
Grace noticed a split second of hesitation cross his face before he said, ‘I promised to take Grace.’
‘What?’ Grace and Ariana both spoke in unison.
‘Don’t you remember, Grace? I promised to take you out tomorrow, to show you Fengari Bay.’
Grace caught up quickly. ‘Uh, oh yes, that’s right. You did promise me that.’
Ariana couldn’t hide her annoyance. ‘Oh, I see.’
‘We must look after our visitors to the island, Ariana. We are known for our hospitality, are we not?’
A flash of frustration blazed a trail across Ariana’s face, but either because she didn’t want to make a scene in front of Grace, or because she had some other plan in place. She tossed her hair back and said airily, ‘I’m going to see Teresa and give her Yaya’s gift.’ She stood and headed for the kitchen, reminding Christian she would be looking for him later for their dance. She blew him a kiss over her shoulder, managing the feat of glaring at Grace at the same time.
Grace looked at Christian expectantly, and he stuttered a little. ‘I … I’ve been meaning to ask you if you’d like to come to Fengari Bay. I can show you the boat Demetrios is building.’
‘Well, the good news is that tomorrow is my day off, too.’
Christian was hesitant. ‘You’ll come then?’
‘I’d love to!’
He smiled. ‘Bring a swimming costume.’
Chapter 25
Grace put the final touches to her outfit. She hadn’t expected to stay as long as she had on Ithos, but since her arrival, she had manged to supplement her meagre wardrobe with a few extra items: a pair of brown leather sandals, a new bikini and a couple of cheap but pretty summer dresses, all picked up from the weekly market in the square, where the traders had enjoyed her haggling and given her a good price for the items.
Tonight, she had a choice, either a yellow knee-length gypsy-style dress, or a pale blue halterneck with a slight flare that gave it a vintage feel. Blue, she decided, and slipped it on, pulling the dress up over head, and enjoying the feel of it as it slipped over her hips.
She brushed a little grey shadow over her lids, some dark grey eyeliner – she found black too harsh – and a slick of pink lip gloss.
‘You’ll do,’ she told herself, pleased with how she looked.
She could already hear the hubbub of the guests from her window, which gave her a delicious sense of anticipation. As she made her way down to the taverna, she saw that all the individual tables on the terrace had been rearranged to form two long tables that filled the space, and the whole square was crammed with people dancing to the music of a traditional dimotika band. She drank in the lively scene; everywhere she looked, guests were laughing, drinking, eating and having fun.
Grace held back for a moment, a sudden shyness giving her pause. Maybe she should go and read a book in her room; no one would miss her, she reasoned, she was just the English waitress.
Before she could turn tail, she was spotted by Níko, who was entertaining a table of guests with an anecdote that was making them roar with laughter. As soon as he saw her, he dashed over and embraced her. ‘Grace! My favourite young agapitós! Come meet my friends and join my party!’
He grabbed her hand and, laughing, led her over to the table, seating her next to Demetrios.
‘This is Elana, Demetrios’s mitéra,’ he told her, introducing her to an older woman seated next to Demetrios.
Then Níko indicated the lady seated opposite, who looked old enough to be a great-grandmother. ‘And this is my mitéra, Katerina,’ he teased. ‘She is ninety years old, but she makes the rest of us look old, don’t you?’
‘Stamáta na me peirázo gios.’ The old lady shook her finger at him.
‘Nonsense, I would never tease you, Mama! You are a spring chicken!’ He gave the old lady a noisy kiss then rushed off to greet more new arrivals.
‘Welcome, Grace, you must eat, drink and be merry. It is demanded tonight.’ Demetrios poured her a glass of red wine and served her up a plate of the lamb stew called kleftiko that was a speciality of Teresa’s.
She lifted a forkful of it into her mouth, savouring the flavours of lamb, oregano, lemon and garlic that danced over her tongue. ‘This food is delicious.’
