by Mandy Baggot
Tess could wait. She could wait a billion years, or until the Georgiou family stopped looking, whichever scenario came first.
‘We can get out now?’ Sonya asked, looking to Andras.
‘Yes, of course,’ he answered.
‘Here I go!’ Sonya exclaimed.
Tess watched her friend deftly step up on to the side of the boat, fingers pinching her nose, and launch herself into the sea. Sonya resurfaced with a smile on her face, wading towards the shoreline.
Right, that was it, there was no more hesitating to be done. If she didn’t do something then Andras was going to stop being busy with ropes and anchors and he would probably throw her over his shoulder like a fireman. That thought made her shiver but also spurred her into action. She had to do this. She had to do this. It was just taking off her shoes, getting into the sea, walking up the sand and putting them straight back on again. Her heart began to palpitate. She could do this. It was just walking … it was sand, not cold flagstone. There were no violet and cream flowers anywhere, no father by her side, no organ music … just the faint thrum of euro-pop coming from somewhere and the sun on her back. It was nothing like the same. Nothing like it …
‘You are OK?’ Andras asked.
That was it. She couldn’t stop now. She wrenched at the straps, tugging the leather upwards until the buckle came loose enough to negotiate with.
‘Fine,’ she answered. Was that her voice? All squeaky and uncontrolled?
‘I could—’ he began.
She leapt up off her seat at the side of the vessel. ‘No! I’m fine.’ She looked down at her feet, still inside the sandals. It should be as easy as a tube of Pringles: one firm rip, the foil top comes off, then no stopping to think about anything else. She closed her eyes then quickly, one by one, took off her shoes. An overwhelming feeling immediately surrounded her, just like it did every time she took off her shoes. Memories, sadness, anger, hurt, pain. She gritted her teeth, sandals hanging from her fingers, and stepped up onto the ridge of the boat, trying to maintain her balance.
‘Tess,’ Andras said.
She couldn’t have him saying anything else. She just had to jump. A little bunny hop into the thigh-deep water, trying not to think of crabs, a quick fifty-metre shuffle, then straight on to the sand and back into her shoes. She gritted her teeth together, then … jumped. Splashing down, her feet were moving before they had even made contact with the surface. There would not be crabs, or little fish, or weed. She was going to hold on to her game face, she was going to swagger through the water like a model on a photoshoot and then, as soon as she was on dry land, the sandals were going back on.
She was almost there. She could see sunbathers, children making sandcastles, running with buckets full of water, parasols gently rippling with the light breeze … she just needed to relax, pretend her feet weren’t bare, convince her mind that they were covered by gossamer, or at least New Look’s lightest nylon-Lycra mix.
She didn’t see the dog coming. One minute she was competently facing her fears, the next one of her Zanotti’s was wrenched from her hand and a large, scruffy, taupe-coloured dog was running up the sand, the wedged shoe hanging from its slathering mouth.
Sheer terror gripped her as the other shoe in her hand dropped to the ground. She stopped walking until she realised her feet were on the sand and it felt like they were burning. She lifted them up, jogging on the spot, her eyes seeking out the sprinting dog.
‘Help!’ It wasn’t a shriek, it was a faint, yet desperate plea to no one in particular and yet everyone all at once. What was she going to do? It had one of her shoes. She had no wearable shoes. Her eyes went to Andras’s family. They were mere metres away, all looking at her as she continued to perform some sort of Navaho Indian circular dance routine on the beach. They already thought she was evil. Now they would think she was evil and deranged.
‘Tess!’ Sonya called.
And there was her friend, towelling her damp skin down with her sundress, perfectly able to be calm and relaxed with bare feet. Tess felt sick. Where was the dog? She squinted her eyes, focusing her gaze down the beach, looking for the back end of a sandy mongrel.
‘It is OK.’
Andras’s voice flooded her ears and her senses. She turned her head, looking for him, waiting to snap back a reply that she was fine. That he should just leave her alone. Instead, the expression of sympathy on his face made her insides crumble like an OXO cube. She would not cry. She would not cry.
‘My … sh-shoe,’ she attempted.
‘I know,’ he answered softly.
And then he was lifting her, gathering her up in his arms before making gigantic strides up the sand like she was no weight at all. Tears were forming before she registered it, her head pressed against Andras’s bare shoulder and chest, determined not to look at the Georgious or Sonya, just willing herself away from this situation, blocking everything else out.
Andras had seen the dog snatch Tess’s shoe and he instinctively knew what he had to do. Carrying her now, he wasn’t heading for his family, or the church, or even the dog, he was going to solve this, quickly.
‘You are OK?’ he asked, stepping between large rocks up the incline to the small road that ran parallel to the beach.
He knew she was close to crying. She had clung to him, hiding her face away from the prying eyes of his family.
She didn’t reply, just carried on sniffing, her face pressed against his torso, waves of hair and her tanned legs over his arms the only things visible.
He gave a quick look for traffic, then headed across the road. Tarmac turned to tiles and he stopped outside, underneath the blue and white canopy of the St Spyridon mini-market.
‘Tess,’ he said. ‘You need to choose.’
She shook her head.
‘Tess,’ he whispered. ‘There are shoes.’
He felt her move slightly then, shifting a little in his arms until eventually her head was lifting slowly, the blonde waves falling back and the tip of her nose appearing first, followed by those blue eyes.
‘Look,’ he encouraged. ‘They may not be designer but they are good for the beach.’
He watched her strained face scanning over the selection of flip-flops on the rack. Her breathing was beginning to even out. She removed one arm from around his neck and reached out for a plain pair of white flip flops with a small Greek flag on the side of the rubber thongs.
‘These ones?’ he asked.
She nodded.
He plucked the sandals from the rack, removed the cardboard sleeve from the toe peg and reaching down, slipped one on to each foot. Then, he gently lowered her to the ground, steadying her as he did so, until she stood upright, facing him, her eyes a little reddened, her lips still showing signs of tremor.
‘OK?’ he asked.
She gave an unconfident nod.
‘I’m just going to pay for the shoes,’ he told her. ‘Wait here.’ He made to move off before stopping again. ‘Do not approach my crazy family without me, or any crazy dogs.’
Her mouth moved into a half-smile, and only then did he leave her.
Forty-nine
‘I am so sorry.’
Andras had bought her a 500ml bottle of full-sugar Pepsi in the mini-market and she was halfway down it already. She was only just starting to feel mildly better. They were walking back down to the beach, hands entwined together and she was mentally trying to recover and ready herself for a confrontation with Isadora that was bound to come.
‘You do not need to apologise.’
‘I need to pay you for the shoes.’
He shook his head. ‘It is not needed.’
‘Well … I can give you something else then.’ She took a breath. ‘I’ve had a look at your accounts.’
‘You have?’ he asked, turning his head to look at her.
‘Yes. I mean, perhaps I shouldn’t have looked without asking, but I needed to get an understanding of how the business was doing and the laptop was right th
ere and …’
‘Tess, I have nothing to hide,’ he told her. ‘I accepted your offer of help.’
‘OK, good.’
‘So?’ Andras asked.
‘So what?’
‘How are my accounts?’
He was smiling at her now and he squeezed her hand. The contact was comforting, even though it was for the benefit of the family. They were now heading to the church, making their way along the quiet road, crunching over fallen leaves, pockets of sand and small pieces of bamboo driftwood.
‘The taverna is doing brilliantly,’ she admitted. ‘I see no reason why a bank wouldn’t give you a loan, depending on how much you wanted to borrow, of course.’
‘You really think so?’ he asked.
His voice was upbeat and just the sound of that had a strange effect on her too. She swallowed, loosening her grip on his hand a little. ‘I do think so.’ She cleared her throat. ‘I wrote some notes, and the beginnings of a proposal, for you to take to the bank … if you decide to do that.’
Her cheeks were flushing. She released her hand from his, unscrewed the bottle of Pepsi and took a swig of it.
‘Thank you, Tess.’
He caught her hand up in his again, interlocking their fingers.
‘No, thank you,’ she answered. ‘For the flip-flops, and the Pepsi … and for Black Velvet.’
He looked at her again, tendrils of his jet-black hair falling over his forehead. ‘You are going to use the name?’
‘Yes,’ she answered. ‘I am.’
‘What is going on?!’
It was Isadora’s voice bellowing as they drew closer to the group who were now outside the church door.
‘Will you come in with me?’ Andras asked, stopping and turning to face her.
‘Oh, I don’t know if I should. I thought Sonya and I would just sit at this bar here and—’
‘I ask too much of you already,’ he interrupted.
‘No, I just …’ She swallowed, not really knowing how to continue. He hadn’t asked a thing about the reason behind her need for shoes, just like the last time. He had just ultimately been so understanding and strong and … there.
‘You see Marietta?’ Andras asked.
Tess scanned the crowd of relatives for Andras’s cousin. It took only a second to pinpoint her. She was gazing over at them, eyes mainly on Andras, looking like a starving wolf.
‘If you are not there it is likely I will be savaged,’ Andras said, as if reading her mind.
‘I think you are overestimating your manly allure.’
‘My what?’ he asked, leaning into her a little.
‘Your attractiveness to women,’ Tess added.
‘I am?’
No, he really wasn’t. And why had she started this thread of conversation? All she could now think about was the kiss they had shared on Kassiopi’s harbourside last night.
‘Andras!’ Isadora yelled, banging her stick on the ground. ‘We are waiting for you.’
‘Come with me,’ Andras said again, squeezing her hand.
Tess’s eyes went to the cupcake-looking church, its yellow walls brushed by wispy tree branches, sun glinting through the boughs. It was nothing like the church she had stood in with Adam and … she had shoes on her feet now.
‘OK,’ she replied. ‘Sonya and I will sit at the back.’
‘Poli kalo,’ he answered with a smile.
‘It’s a beautiful church, isn’t it?’ Sonya said with a sigh.
Tess didn’t need to move her head to know that her friend’s fingers would be tracing her neckline. She was right though, it was a beautiful church. Small but beautiful. The walls at the side were painted plain white, arched windows letting in a little light, then at the front of the building was a wall in deep blue and green hues, illustrated with religious icons. Men and women with beards, some winged cherubs, all wearing colourful togas, halos surrounding their abundant hair. It was nothing like the Norman walls of her local church with its plain pillar candles and a cassocked Reverend Heather, who looked a lot like Brian Blessed. The Greek priest’s beard reached his waist and he was handling a holy book and an incense censer. But despite it being foreign to her, it was still two people, rehearsing pledging their life to each other and promising for ever.
‘I don’t understand a word they’re saying but,’ Sonya started, ‘you can see how much they love each other.’ She sighed. ‘The way Kira looks at Spiros … it’s just like the way Pelagia looked at Captain Corelli when he was playing his mandolin.’ She sighed again. ‘It’s so beautiful.’
‘I know,’ Tess said, sarcasm coating her tone. ‘With Isadora breathing down her neck and the rest of their families making sure she can’t run.’
Sonya turned in her seat and Tess immediately regretted being so blasé. She should backtrack. She was just a spectator here. This wedding had no connection to any other wedding. Not hers and not any wedding Sonya might have planned to the nth degree in a scrapbook of confetti dreams.
‘Is that what you see?’ Sonya asked.
She shook her head quickly. ‘No. I was being stupid.’ She sniffed. ‘It’s nice. Of course it’s nice. It’s a wedding.’
‘What happened on the beach?’ Sonya whispered, ducking her head a little as, at the front, the bride and groom now seemed to be wearing crowns made from olive branches and white flowers.
Tess swallowed. ‘Nothing. I just … the sand was burning my feet and the dog ran off with my shoe.’
Sonya nodded. ‘And Andras carried you across the beach.’
‘A total overreaction, but you know how the Greeks love a display.’ Tess indicated the performance at the altar.
‘And he didn’t look at you like he was Captain Corelli?’ Sonya asked.
‘What is it with the Captain Corelli references? You do know that film was set on Kefalonia, not Corfu.’
‘And now you’re changing the subject,’ Sonya said, a wisp of a smile on her lips.
‘Speaking of changing the subject, have you tried calling Joey again?’
Sonya shook her head a little too quickly.
‘Sonya …’ Tess left the end of the sentence open until Sonya cracked.
‘I called him before we left Kalami. Seven times.’
‘And he still didn’t pick up?’ Tess asked. ‘How does he know you’re not ill or something?’
Sonya shrugged. ‘I guess he doesn’t care.’
‘I don’t believe that.’
‘He’s probably too busy with Ceri.’
Sonya’s voice came out a little loud and Isadora’s beady focus was directed their way. Tess watched her friend mouth a ‘sorry’ as the priest continued to chant.
‘Do you want to know what I think?’ Tess whispered.
‘What?’
‘I really think Joey’s at home. One of the things Rachel used to do when she wanted to get Philandering Phil’s attention was sit at home with a bucket of KFC and check herself into places on Facebook.’
‘But it’s dishonest, and Joey isn’t dishonest, wasn’t dishonest …’ She sighed. ‘Really hoping he hasn’t turned dishonest.’ Sonya shook her head until some of her red hair escaped a Kirby grip.
‘I’d be looking at it as a positive,’ Tess said. ‘If that’s what Joey’s doing then he isn’t in Margate and he isn’t with Ceri.’
The words seemed to take a few seconds to sink into Sonya’s consciousness. ‘Oh!’ Her hands went to her mouth in a I’ve-Just-Discovered-Ben-and-Jerry’s-Phish-Food-At-The-Back-Of-The-Freezer kind of way. ‘Oh, I see!’
‘So, perhaps the reason he isn’t answering his phone is because if he does, you’re going to either hear the Tube announcer at Pimlico or the sound of him watching Robot Wars,’ Tess suggested. ‘He’s probably driving somewhere right now that has appropriate seagull and arcade machine noises.’
‘Do you really think so?’ Sonya asked, wide-eyed with hope.
Did she really think so? She didn’t really know, but almost anything was b
etter than the alternative. She reached over and patted Sonya’s hand. ‘I think Joey always looks at you like Spiros looks at Kira.’
‘He used to,’ Sonya answered with a forlorn tilt of the head, taking in the couple at the altar. ‘But now I wonder if he needs more than me. Someone to give him something else to make him completely fulfilled.’ She turned her gaze to Tess. ‘Something that looks cute and screams.’
‘Bjork?’ Tess answered. ‘Sorry, that wasn’t funny.’ She squeezed Sonya’s hand again. ‘You need to have that discussion with him. A proper, truth-telling discussion with all cards on the table.’ She looked over at the wedding party. ‘You tell him exactly how you feel. You listen while he tells you exactly how he feels. And then you talk … and you don’t stop talking until everything is all right again.’ She swallowed, a memory bubbling up in her mind. That’s what she had wanted to do with Adam. She’d needed answers and he’d just given her total silence. She turned to Sonya. ‘I’ve seen enough marriage practice.’ She stood up. ‘Let’s go and check out that bar across the road. I saw some giant cocktails coming out earlier.’
‘But what about Andras?’ Sonya asked. ‘Won’t Isadora be suspicious if you leave the church for a bar.’
Tess looked at Andras, standing gorgeously tall, Marietta close, watching his brother.
‘He’s a big boy,’ Tess said. ‘He can look after himself.’
Fifty
Finikas Bar, Agios Spyridon
‘What was that last one called?’
Tess’s eyes were just starting to get a little hazy around the edges. It was so relaxing here, sitting out under the shade of a palm tree, a plastic bottle of sugary drink hanging from the fronds to keep the flying critters away from the tables, the sea rolling softly up the sand, the sun warming her shoulders, her best friend by her side, well, across the table.
‘Sultan’s Kiss,’ Sonya said, her words a little slurry.
‘It was nice,’ Tess stated. ‘Creamy and rich and sultanery.’
‘I don’t think it’s called Sultana’s Kiss,’ Sonya said. ‘It’s sultan, as in a ruler in Arab lands.’
