Single for the Summer: The perfect feel-good romantic comedy set on a Greek island

by Mandy Baggot

  ‘And that was all it was?’

  Her reply almost sounded disappointed. What was he trying to achieve? He nodded his head.

  ‘So, here … outside.’ Her gaze went to the harbour. ‘It was just for authenticity too?’ she asked. ‘In case your mother has a long-range telescope set up or spies tracking us?’

  ‘You say that as if it cannot be a consideration.’ He gave her a half-smile.

  ‘Having sex would surely help cement the validity of this relationship though.’ She smiled, reaching out a hand and running her fingertip over his pectoral.

  He wished she would stop saying the word ‘sex’, it was practically killing him. He needed to be clear. While clear thoughts were with him.

  ‘I won’t have sex with you, Tess.’

  He could feel the beat of his heart in his neck and he hated every frantic throb of it. He didn’t want to hurt her. He wanted to protect her. And himself. This was a dilemma of his own making.

  ‘But you told me that’s all you do …’ she said. ‘No holding hands or awkward morning-after-the-night-befores. Just something simple.’

  He remembered the conversation. He knew what he did. What he used to do. But this was different. It wasn’t simple. It was about as complicated as it could get.

  He nodded. ‘I know.’ He wanted to reach out to her right now.

  ‘Then …’

  ‘We should go back inside.’ He looked towards the doors of Passion. ‘Fotis loves to dance. Sonya, she will need saving from dehydration.’

  ‘Andras,’ Tess said.

  The way she said his name hammered at him. He closed his eyes for a second. He needed to say more.

  ‘Tess, I am so grateful for all your help.’ He let a sigh leave him. ‘So grateful.’ He shook his head. ‘But the truth is … I do not want to be like one of your men from England.’

  He waited for his statement to really reach her before continuing. ‘We are friends now, yes? Friends who happen to be single. Friends who are helping each other and tonight have just had a little too much to drink.’

  ‘I think you’ll find that “friends with benefits” is a bit of a 2017 watchword.’ She smiled. ‘All the cool kids are doing it.’

  He nodded soberly. ‘Then I think that … perhaps the cool kids are doing it because, like us, they are not really ready for anything else.’

  Forty-six

  Kalami Cove Apartments

  Tess was sober. She was actually completely and totally sober. She didn’t know how she could be sober after spending the night drinking shots she had never heard of and something Fotis had insisted on that was poured into boiling hot black coffee to create a potion that bubbled like witch’s brew. Well, she did know actually. She knew that after she had clambered out of the cab of the truck, after Sonya had moulded herself to the wall of the apartment pretending to be a gecko then fallen into a snorty sleep, she had put the kettle on and non-creepy-alcoholic coffee-d up her insides.

  She hadn’t wanted to sleep, even if tiredness had willed her to. There was too much swimming inside her mind. For a moment, she had looked at the voicemail icon on her phone and thought about calling her mother. It wasn’t that she didn’t ever think about it when she was at home. Usually late at night. Usually under the influence. But back in London, she always thought better of it. And the same had happened last night.

  She also hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Andras. Even now, sitting on the veranda, breathing in the scent of bougainvillea and wisteria, she still couldn’t stop thinking about him. She had wanted to be infuriated by his need to act all Neanderthal over Stefan’s wandering hands, and she had acted out a pretty competent performance, but, in truth, what she had actually felt was protected. And that had terrified her. Which was why she had told him about the six-week rule. As if she needed to be punished for feeling that way, the way she had often felt with Adam. To know, or at least to think that you knew, that someone had your back, that someone was there, if you needed them. But then he had kissed her, robbing her of every sensible thought and making her body twang with longing, before throwing her libido to the ground like a WWF wrestler.

  Last night she had been cross and frustrated – so frustrated in every single way – that she had opened Andras’s laptop and gone into the restaurant accounts without a second thought to his privacy. And what she had found there had been pleasing. The business wasn’t just doing well, it was thriving. Turnover was up already this year from last and, despite a lean spell when the Greek economy had been at its most fragile, the figures were sound. Certainly sound enough for a sensible bank to give him a business loan.

  And that’s what she was doing right now. She wasn’t creating branding for Blackberry Boudoir/Black Velvet, she was coming up with a draft business plan for Taverna Georgiou, for Andras to take to the bank. Why?

  She sighed, stretching up her arms, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her skin. She was picking up a bit of colour now and there did seem to be something almost magical about waking up to the sound of the sea and the scent of the saltwater and sand on the breeze. She closed her eyes, just letting the morning sun settle her mind and her soul.

  A deep, throaty moan invaded her consciousness and she snapped her eyes open. What the hell was that?

  ‘Sonya?’ she said tentatively, looking back into the apartment at her friend’s form on the bed. There was no sign of movement or indication of moaning there.

  The growl hit her ears again, followed by two sharp coughs. She knew there was a new couple next door to them now. They had been sat on their veranda at three o’clock that morning lighting incense and chanting. For a second she thought the priests might be back.

  Head leaning slightly over to their neighbours’ terrace, Tess couldn’t hear anything further. But then she saw it. Just off the terrace, behind a white flowering bush, something moved. Standing up, she walked to the metal fence and narrowed her eyes, shading them with her hand. Another groan, a slow move forward and the noise-maker was revealed.

  A tortoise.

  Hector.

  Forty-seven

  Taverna Georgiou

  Andras watched his mother from where he was clipping the breakfast/lunchtime paper tablecloths to the tables in the restaurant. Isadora was standing in the centre of the room, a measuring tape in one hand, the end of which was sticking out like it might be used as a weapon, should the need arise. He had never known a wedding to need so much measuring. He secured another clip to the table he was working on and saw his mother’s lips were moving, as if she were talking to herself.

  ‘Isadora,’ Kira said, coming up behind the older woman and resting a gentle hand on her shoulder. ‘Please, come and sit down.’

  Isadora shook her head. ‘I cannot. There is still much to arrange. I need to make sure Andras does not keep moving these tables around. For three days I have had to move them back into position. It is only days until the wedding.’

  ‘I know,’ Kira answered. ‘But the tables are fine, really.’

  ‘They are not fine,’ Isadora snapped. ‘There are too many inches here …’ She indicated the tables to her left. ‘And not enough inches here.’ She sniffed. ‘When you and Spiros come into the room, every pair of eyes should be on you two.’ She turned, taking in the tables. ‘Everyone is going to see how happy you both are. Starting your new life together. As God always intended for you, right back when you were both so young.’

  Andras watched his mother reach into her blouse pocket for a tissue. He had never seen her this emotional before. Shouting orders, directing everyone’s lives, yes, but not upset. His mother never showed any weakness. This was a little like she had been yesterday, after she had shouted at Tess, when she had mentioned Elissa.

  Kira put her arm around Isadora, patting her back. ‘We are going to have the perfect wedding, because everyone has worked so hard, you have worked so hard.’ She rubbed Isadora’s shoulder. ‘Come, let’s have some coffee and think about making some small adjustment
s to Helena’s dress.’

  Isadora shook her head. ‘No!’ She straightened up, seeming to come out of whatever funk she had slipped into. ‘No adjustments can be made. It is traditional Corfiot dress!’

  ‘But, Isadora, she keeps fainting,’ Kira stated.

  ‘Pah! The girl will get over it. Now,’ she said, putting her hands on the nearest table. ‘Help me move this one.’

  Andras shook his head. It was absolutely no good telling his mother the tables could all just be moved to her specification the night before the wedding. This was much more than Greek Feng Shui. He had a feeling it also had a lot to do with the past.

  ‘Can you help me?!’

  Andras turned to the back entrance of the restaurant and there was Tess, hair loose and wild, thin sundress covering not much of her body … and next to her was a sack truck, Hector tied to it with what looked like a hosepipe. Andras hurried across the room.

  ‘Theé mou!’ Isadora exclaimed. ‘This creature! This monster! It is a curse! It will be the death of me!’

  ‘Are you talking about me or the tortoise?’ Tess answered with a smile.

  ‘Why do you do this?’ Isadora continued. ‘The restaurant was blessed yesterday. It was cleaned and purified, inside and out, and now you have brought this … this demon back into the sanctified space.’

  ‘Ah, so you were talking about the tortoise and not me,’ Tess replied.

  ‘I will deal with it,’ Andras said, untying Hector from his transport as his head began to emerge from his shell.

  Tess took a deep breath in. ‘It does smell of something in here today.’ She sucked in another breath. ‘I just can’t put my finger on what it is.’

  ‘It is fresh air!’ Isadora stated. ‘The Greek sea air and nothing else!’

  ‘No,’ Tess stated with a shake of her head. ‘No I don’t think it’s that.’

  ‘Dorothea is making courgette balls,’ Kira offered.

  ‘Maybe it’s that … yes. I’m sure it’s that,’ Tess said. ‘I think.’

  Andras picked Hector up and placed him on the restaurant floor. ‘You would like some breakfast?’ He wanted her to stay.

  Tess shook her head. ‘No. I’ve left Sonya – Susan – making omelettes.’

  ‘Andras, that animal cannot be on the floor of the restaurant,’ Isadora shrieked.

  He swiftly picked Hector up in his arms and turned to Tess. He wanted to say something, anything to get over the awkwardness of last night. Kissing her like that, wanting to touch her just about everywhere, then backing out as fast as he could …

  ‘I can take you out later,’ he said. ‘This afternoon, maybe, when the restaurant is quieter. Perhaps to Kalamaki Beach?’

  ‘You will be busy,’ Isadora said immediately. ‘You and Marietta are needed at the church to run through things before the wedding day. We leave here at three o’clock.’

  He turned to his mother. ‘That is today?’ He was sure Spiros had said it was tomorrow.

  ‘Yes, that is today. You have a copy of the schedule. I do not know why I bother with these if nobody reads them.’ She tutted. ‘And there is the dinner tonight, with Kira’s family, on the beach. Or have you forgotten that too?’

  He hadn’t forgotten. He just hadn’t read the schedule. Although, if his restaurant was providing the food, he ought to have had his eye on the ball a bit better.

  ‘Isadora, come, let’s go and have that coffee,’ Kira suggested, slipping her arm through her soon-to-be-mother-in-law’s.

  ‘Not until that creature has been removed!’

  ‘I’m just going,’ Tess replied as Kira managed to extract Isadora from the conversation, shepherding her to a table by the sea view.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Andras began. ‘I thought the wedding things were tomorrow.’

  ‘You don’t have to apologise to your not-real girlfriend,’ Tess said.

  ‘But I do have to keep up my guide-man end of the bargain.’ He had a thought. ‘Why don’t you come with me?’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘To the church.’

  ‘That sounds like a whole lot of fun.’

  ‘It is in the village Kira comes from, Agios Spyridon. About twenty minutes from here. It is very pretty. We can take the boat. There is a beach, and a couple of bars, if you do not want to come into the church.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Tess said with a sigh.

  ‘Tess …’

  ‘I’ll ask Sonya,’ she answered. ‘It’s her holiday really.’

  ‘OK,’ he said.

  ‘OK,’ she answered, taking a step away from him.

  ‘Tess,’ he said again, wanting her to stop.

  She turned back. There was something different about her. It wasn’t just the clothes or the flat shoes or her hair being untamed. It was something he couldn’t put his finger on.

  ‘You didn’t say where you found Hector,’ he said.

  ‘He was in the gardens of Kalami Cove, eating the plants.’

  He shook his head. ‘For a tortoise, he moves fast.’

  She nodded. ‘I think you might need a taller fence. Despite his appearance, I’m pretty sure he’s a climber.’

  Forty-eight

  Agios Spyridon

  ‘Oh my! This is beautiful!’

  Sonya’s observation was in no way exaggerated. Tess leaned out over the bow of Andras’s boat, taking in the bay of Agios Spyridon as they approached over the waves. A long, golden stretch of sand beckoned. There were loungers on the shore, together with a couple of pedalos and two small speedboats, but the beach wasn’t busy. Slim eucalyptus trees swayed behind it, then beyond were more of Corfu’s undulating fields and hills, the peak of Mount Pantokrator clearly visible on this blue-sky, thirty-degree day.

  ‘There is the church,’ Andras called over the boat’s engine. He pointed at a tiny lemon-painted stone building sitting just off the sand. It was like someone had placed a Mr Kipling’s Fondant Fancy on the rocks.

  ‘Really?’ Sonya said in awe. ‘That’s really the little church? Oh, Tess, look at it! It’s like a cute doll chapel covered in marzipan.’

  ‘Mmm,’ Tess answered. She couldn’t deny it was beautiful but the whole church thing had been pinching at her since Andras had mentioned it that morning.

  ‘How many people does it hold?’ Sonya asked.

  Andras slowed down the boat as they neared the shore, letting the engine just tick over as they eased towards land. ‘I do not know. It is not very big.’

  ‘I thought there were almost a hundred people coming to the wedding,’ Tess piped up.

  ‘And that is how many the church will hold if my mother has her way,’ he answered.

  ‘A hundred people!’ Sonya exclaimed. ‘A hundred people in that little chapel?’

  ‘I am joking,’ Andras said, smiling. ‘The church service, it is for just family. The reception and second ceremony on the beach at Kalami is for everyone.’

  ‘Second ceremony,’ Tess said, shaking her head.

  ‘You think this is … how do you say? … Over the top?’ Andras asked.

  ‘Oh, just a little,’ Tess answered.

  ‘We are Greek, remember.’ He smiled, as if that explained everything.

  ‘Well, I think it’s lovely,’ Sonya said softly.

  Of course she did. Because, despite only being almost-engaged, this was what Sonya had been dreaming of since she had started getting serious with Joey. Sonya was the big white wedding, dove-releasing, chimney-sweep-needing, jazz-band-in-a-marquee type. Tess knew her friend had a scrapbook of ideas for her wedding. Sonya had never shown her, because of Adam, but Tess had found it when she was searching for the karaoke CDs during a girls’ night. Tulle and lace scraps were there, the business card and leaflet of a company that hired out wigwams in the New Forest, her wedding song list with some scratched out and others added as time progressed. Tess had slammed the book shut after three pages and never opened that drawer in Sonya’s place ever again.

  ‘It is not so bad,’
Andras said, waving at the man on the beach who looked ready to help them with the boat. ‘At least it is someone else’s wedding, no?’

  He wasn’t wrong there. Tess focused on getting nearer to dry land and then she realised what was missing …

  ‘Where’s the dock?’ she asked.

  ‘There is no dock here,’ Andras answered. ‘I will let down the anchor when we get closer. We may tie up to the other boats.’

  ‘But … I’ll have to get out in the sea.’ She swallowed. She hated this. Her Zanotti’s were starting to show signs of saltwater damage already.

  ‘We can swim,’ Sonya said. ‘You have your bikini on under your dress. Like we did near the Rothschild house. The water here looks even clearer.’

  ‘It is OK,’ Andras answered. ‘If you cannot take off your shoes I can carry you.’

  She closed her eyes. What was going to be worse? Removing her shoes and feeling the earth touch her soles or letting Andras carry her up the beach again like a scene from some lame romance film? She wasn’t sure, but now, as they chugged forwards, Andras looking like he was concentrating, she could see a group gathering on the sand. And in the middle of the pack was Isadora, her imposing figure standing out above even the men of the party. She would be watching and waiting for Tess to mess up and, whether she understood the reasons why or not, she didn’t want to make a fool of herself. Her fingers went to the buckle on her left foot. She could do this. She could totally do this. After all this time, being scared of going barefoot had to stop.

  ‘Ooo look! There’s a little crab!’ Sonya announced, head hanging over the boat, hair almost touching the surface.

  She swallowed. Great. The earth and crabs. It was like the entire universe was plotting against her. Everything she hated under her feet and a Greek matriarch waiting to watch her every move.

  Andras greeted the man from the beach who was wading out to meet them.

  ‘I’m so hot,’ Sonya remarked, flapping her hand in front of her face. ‘I can’t wait to get into that water.’