a luxurious hotel with a king-size bed and… Urgh, not again! Enough with the nostalgia!
We chatted about the recession – the homeless from all sections of Greek society, now on the streets of Kos Town, reliant on soup kitchens and handouts. Once a fortnight, Niko and I volunteered there and donated fish and a batch of scones. People down on their luck would relish every mouthful, be they former road sweepers, office workers or entrepreneurs. The face of poverty had never before been so diverse. Cue a fascinating discussion about Greece’s position in Europe. What Henrik lacked in poetry, he made up for with statistics and figures.
As we approached Taxos Taverna, Niko arrived back from his morning’s sailing. Grandma pushed open the door to let us in. Henrik set me down at one of the mahogany tables and Sophia and Georgios appeared. Niko threw off his gloves and coat and rushed to my side and positioned a chair so that he could raise my foot onto it.
‘Pippa? Henrik? What is wrong?’ Niko knelt down by me and squeezed my hand. For some reason I started to shake.
‘Shock,’ muttered Grandma and disappeared.
In an annoyingly trembly voice, I explained what had happened. Honestly, I was fine. Mrs Manos was the person to worry about. It was just… Henrik carrying me home had made me forget the anger emanating from Yanis’ inky black eyes. Now the memory hit me full pelt. What if my ex hadn’t turned up? Greece’s economic unrest had, in recent times, let to many outbursts of uncharacteristic violence. I forced a smile as Grandma returned with a large glass of Georgios’ finest herby Metaxa brandy. Niko held it to my lips.
‘I’m all right,’ I mumbled and took the glass. ‘Just grateful Henrik saved the day.’
Niko got to his feet and stretched out a hand, whilst muttering something to Sophia who promptly headed for the bar.
‘We owe you, Henrik,’ Niko said. ‘And the Sotiropoulos family always pays its debts. So, if you ever need our help…’ His eyes narrowed into bullets. ‘And now I must visit Yanis myself and warn him never to treat a Sotiropoulos like that again.’
‘You follow me, son,’ said Georgios, bushy eyebrows knitted together, plump jaw clenched.
‘Niko, leave it, mate – and you, Georgios. Yanis is in no mood to talk.’ Henrik shrugged. ‘He’s not worth it and you’ll only upset his mother.’
Niko looked at his dad, then Henrik, and gave a sigh. Sophia returned with the bottle of Metaxa and filled glasses for everyone.
‘To our brave friend,’ said Georgios and raised his glass, before knocking back the brandy. Then he stretched out his arms. A bemused Henrik duly leant down for a hug.
‘You defend the Sotiropoulos name,’ said Georgios, ‘so always welcome in our house.’
‘And more importantly,’ added Sophia, ‘you kept dearest Pippitsa from harm.’
‘You could have got hurt, feisty Pippa,’ said Grandma, cinnamon eyes on fire, and shook a finger.
‘Me feisty?’ I said.
Everyone gave wry smiles. In my position we all knew Grandma would have said and done a lot more.
Georgios headed into the kitchen and prepared a mini feast. My ankle felt infinitely better after steaming lamb and feta stuffed peppers, followed by lemon cake with frozen yogurt ice cream. In fact I hardly noticed the dull ache whilst sipping a coffee afterwards. Georgios had left us, to wash up, whilst Sophia and Grandma served in the teashop.
Henrik looked at his watch and wiped his mouth with a napkin. ‘Time to go. Better not miss my plane.’ He leant over and kissed me on the cheek. Niko walked him to the front window where Henrik called out goodbye. Cue shuffling feet as Georgios, Sophia and Grandma hurried into the room. After several minutes of kisses and back-slaps, he shot me a grin, before opening the door.
‘By the way, what were you doing near the butcher’s?’ Niko asked him and shrugged.
Henrik tightened his designer scarf, as everyone else headed back to the kitchen.
‘I wanted to buy Olivia an ornament from Demetrios’ pottery, before flying back. She loves wildlife.’ He pulled on leather gloves. ‘I won’t have time now. If fact, I’m already running late.’ Henrik opened the door. Those slate eyes crinkled at the corners for a second as he gazed at me and then his expression became serious. ‘Perhaps you can bring one over if you come to our engagement party?’ He stared at me intently before striding out onto the street.
The door banged behind him. I cleared my throat and concentrated really hard on a piece of chewing gum walked into the floor – must remove that later.
‘Party?’ said Niko. He sat down on the chair opposite and lifted my foot off it and onto his knee.
Heat surged into my cheeks. ‘Yes. On Friday the twenty-second of December. For his and Olivia’s engagement.’
‘This December?’ said Niko and burst out laughing. ‘That’s not much notice.’ He relaxed back into the chair and with his thumb, massaged my ankle. ‘Why didn’t you mention it?’
‘There didn’t seem much point – I mean, there’s no way we can go, right?’ My voice sounded flat.
‘Pippa?’ Niko’s thumb stopped. ‘You can’t have seriously considered it? We have so much to do that weekend – Christmas preparations, wedding plans, and now market goods to get ready for the fair.’
‘But there are still three weeks to go.’ I sat up straight. ‘If we flew out on the Friday, and came back Saturday, we wouldn’t miss much time. Sophia and Grandma have already organised most things to do with our big day, down to the last detail,’ I rambled and leant forward to grab Niko’s hand. ‘It could be such fun! We aren’t going on honeymoon so—’
He shook his head. ‘Are you crazy? London will be busier than an ants’ nest at that time of year.’
‘In a good way.’ My grip tightened around his fingers. ‘Niko, you’ve never been there – I could give you a speed-tour. You’d love the Christmas lights down Oxford Street and the huge tree in Trafalgar Square. The London Eye looks so pretty at night and—’
‘Eye?’ he said, his eyes narrowing, for some reason.
‘It’s a big wheel, like one of those fairground rides. From the top you can see the whole of the London skyline.’ Okay, babbling more than ever now.
Niko slid out from under my leg and pulled away his hand. He stood up to clear our coffee cups. ‘No, Pippa. Why don’t we visit London in a year or two instead, when we can afford such a treat and—’
‘A year or two?’ I put my foot back on the floor. ‘And what’s all this, you saying “no, Pippa”? Is that what it’s going to be like when we’re married? Because I can tell you now—’
Niko put down the cups and with the speed of a tuna fish (they are super-fast, apparently), knelt by my side. ‘Pippa? We argue?’ He ran a thumb under my eye. ‘And how can you think that of me? If anything, you the boss!’
I managed a small smile.
‘But can’t you see? This idea is
