She studied my face. ‘Of course. Henrik is now part of your past.’
Did she really believe that? Over the years Grandma had been my greatest confidante in the summers, listening to my worries about school. She always knew when something was bothering me. Not that anything was today. Any sort of relationship between me and Henrik was well over. She squeezed me before pulling away her arm.
‘Have you been reading coffee sediment again, Grandma?’ I said and grinned. ‘Perhaps Henrik will marry one of his Greek fan-girls?’
‘Never joke about the coffee sediment,’ she said. ‘Didn’t it tell you last week that a new pair of shoes will bring you good luck?’ Grandma gazed down at my shiny ankle boots, picked up last weekend in Kos Town. ‘Today is the first time you wear them and I think your Christmas idea – it’s going to go down well.’
I kissed her forehead and glanced across the room at Sophia who nodded again. Loudly, I cleared my throat.
‘Thanks for coming, everyone, it’s appreciated.’
A few people still chatted. Grandma tutted and clapped her hands. Georgios stood ready at the back to translate for the villagers who couldn’t speak much English.
‘Right…so…I have a suggestion on how we can boost our income over the Christmas period.’
‘Go, Pippa!’ called Pandora and unbuttoned her stylish, red winter coat. ‘Your ideas are always the best.’
Murmurs of agreement echoed around the room and my ears burned.
‘Any plan would be most welcome,’ murmured Mrs Dellis. ‘Our pickle and cheese sales are down. Praise God that this time next year, visitors to the Maritime Museum will have big appetites for local wares.’
I smoothed down my apron, as Apollo the cat promptly sank onto one of my feet. ‘Okay…here goes – how about we hold a Christmas market with a difference? From the twenty-sixth of December to the lunchtime of the twenty-ninth – my and Niko’s wedding day. A market to offer tourists and islanders a different shopping experience to the annual one in Kos Town.’
Shoulders slumped and several heads lowered.
‘A market?’ said Cosmo, eventually, and ran his harmonica across his lips, without blowing. ‘How exactly would it stand out?’
‘For a start, in England we have something called Santa’s Grotto – we could set this up in Pippa’s Pantry. St Nicholas sits in there with a bag of presents and parents pay for their children to go in. I reckon you’d look really good in a white beard, Cosmo,’ I said.
‘Efharisto for thinking of me.’ He bowed his head and smiled. ‘To represent our patron saint of sailors would give me great honour.’
‘Demetrios, perhaps, could make small pottery ornaments, such as ceramic angels and reindeer for the gift bags,’ I continued. ‘Pandora’s sweet treats could go in. I would set out my festive scones inside the teashop, alongside hot drinks.’
‘And children would play a big part in this market, wouldn’t they, Pippa?’ said Niko, encouragingly.
‘Yes, you see—’
The door flung open. Local hotel owner Mrs Vesteros stood there, hair ruffled, chest heaving.
‘Otis is missing!’ she wailed. ‘He saw a cat and pulled away whilst I tied my shoelace. He headed towards the beach. I no understand why he not come back.’ A sob escaped her lips.
Without waiting one second, Yanis, the son of local butcher Mrs Manos, sprinted out of the taverna. After giving Mrs Vesteros a quick hug, I followed with Niko and many of the villagers. Otis had become well known in Taxos over the last couple of months, since Mrs Vesteros had found him abandoned in Kos Town.
‘Yanis can run fast,’ I puffed to Niko. ‘He’s obviously still quite the hero. Isn’t he always helping elderly villagers with their DIY?’
‘He used to,’ said Niko, in between gulps of air. ‘Although these days Yanis keeps himself to himself, working at the butcher’s or picking up brickie or plastering work. He and his family live in a caravan in his mum’s back garden. Even though his dad died, the house isn’t big enough for them all to fit in together.’
No surprise there. Caravans had sprung up all over the island, housing Greeks who couldn’t afford to meet the demands of banks or landlords.
‘His wife never looks very cheery,’ I said, tired chest aching now.
‘You know she lost her job in the deli, next to the Flamingo inn, in Kos Town?’
I nodded.
‘That’s why she and Yanis could no longer afford their house. I guess it made sense to move here, when his dad died.’
‘Moving here must have been a life-saver, then.’ But perhaps not for old Mrs Manos, who had recently lost loads of weight, plus chain-smoked more than ever.
‘Yanis headed left, towards Caretta Cove,’ shouted a passing villager as we stopped by the fishing boats to catch our breath.
‘Okay, we turn right then,’ said Niko, already recovered, unlike me whose daily exercise only involved beating, whisking and kneading.
We rummaged through boat sheds and gardens, all to a soundtrack of villagers calling Otis’ name. However an hour or so later, the dog still wasn’t found – and Yanis wasn’t back.
With rosy cheeks, and heaving chests, everyone sat in the taverna. Grandma and old Mrs Manos handed out coffees and slices of honey cake.
‘Otis will wander back home, I’m sure of it,’ I said to Mrs Vesteros and slipped an arm around her shoulders.
Her face crumpled. ‘I don’t understand. Someone must have him, otherwise he would have returned.’
Perhaps. But I doubted it. Greece was overrun with stray dogs at the moment, many dumped by financially-stretched owners who also couldn’t afford to neuter them, so numbers easily swelled. Some pets, like Otis, might run off to join roaming packs.
‘Let’s look again once we’ve warmed up,’ said Cosmo. ‘I’ll go a bit further afield on one of my bikes.’
‘And this time all of you put your coats on,’ said Grandma.
But the door opened and Yanis stepped in, along with a gust of cold afternoon wind. His face looked flushed. Hair unkempt. Clothes damp. And in his hand was… Oh no. Otis’ distinct leopard-print lead.
‘My baby?’ stuttered Mrs Vesteros.
Slowly Yanis nodded. ‘Sorry. Spotted him just past Caretta Cove. He must have seen something in the water. I followed him in but…’ Yanis glanced away. ‘The dog sank. Perhaps his lead got caught on some rocks and held him down.’ He held up the lead which was broken around the neck. ‘This washed up on the shore.’
A howl followed by sobs came from Mrs Vesteros’ body and she fled the taverna. A couple of her neighbours followed. Yet crying still came from the room – Mrs
