by Mandy Baggot
‘Tess,’ he breathed, voice straining as his hands began to wander to the buttons of his shirt on her body.
Who was she trying to kid? She wanted his lips on hers more than she was craving drinks from the Coca-Cola company. She pressed her mouth to his then felt him spin her around and over on to the mattress until his frame was on top of hers.
‘I want to rip that shirt away,’ he breathed. ‘And then I want to kiss every part of you.’
‘Yes,’ Tess said, her body quaking with anticipation.
He held her wrists, dropping another sizzling kiss on her mouth. ‘But … it is past eight o’ clock.’ He let her go and vaulted from the bed, stretching his arms in the air and elongated his torso like he was doing it for her personal viewing pleasure.
‘Andras, please,’ she begged. ‘A Greek eight o’clock. We can wait for a Greek eight o’clock, you know, the one that doesn’t really exist.’
He grinned. ‘We have to meet Spiro at my mother’s house. I have to shave him and the other men have to help him to get dressed.’
Tess sat bolt upright. ‘Did you say shave him?’ She blinked. ‘Like remove all his body hair?’
‘No,’ Andras laughed. ‘Just his face.’
She pouted, feeling a little frustrated. ‘And what do I do while you’re shaving?’
‘Anything you want,’ he replied. ‘You can stay here, make some breakfast, sit in the garden, relax …’
‘What time do I have to be by the boat for the church?’
‘Eleven o’clock.’
‘And you’re sure your mother isn’t going to ban me from the vicinity like she has banned the tortoise?’ Tess asked. ‘I mean, all Hector has done is raid the restaurant kitchen, he hasn’t ever lied to her.’
‘Or said that he does not want babies,’ Andras added.
She grabbed a pillow and threw it at him, watching it cuff his shoulder. ‘That’s not funny.’
He was moving back across the wooden floor towards her then, that body of perfection shifting closer, igniting her arousal and sending her stomach into KitchenAid mode.
‘My mother knows how I feel about you,’ Andras said. ‘I told you, we have talked.’ He kissed her shoulder.
‘And Marietta isn’t going to be putting some Greek ugliness hex on me or anything?’ She shivered as Andras’s lips reached her collarbone.
‘I will still love you even if you end up looking like Medusa,’ Andras responded.
‘Love me,’ Tess whispered, the words feeling unfamiliar.
Andras stood back a little, keeping his face level with hers. ‘Is that too much? To say that, in this moment?’
Was it? He had shown her in so many ways how he felt and said so too, just not with that four-letter word beginning with ‘l’ that always seemed to put a different slant on it. She shook her head. ‘No.’
‘No?’ he queried.
‘No, it isn’t too much,’ she answered. ‘It’s nice. I like it.’
He kissed her mouth. ‘Good,’ he responded. ‘Because, when I mentioned Medusa, I felt sure you would be focused on the snakes.’
She hit his arm playfully and he recoiled, laughing.
‘I have to shower,’ he said, walking towards the door.
Just the thought of that delicious torso under hot running water was enough to make her labia throb. She picked up the pillow and hugged it to her body.
Then Andras put his head around the bedroom door. ‘Tess,’ he called.
‘Yes?’
He smiled. ‘I have a double shower.’
She had never run so fast.
Seventy-two
Kalami Bay
‘My engagement ring changes colour almost every time I look at it,’ Sonya announced. She held out her hand, twisting and turning it in the sunlight like it was some sort of heat-activated mood ring. ‘See how the rubies are dark now, like Morello cherries, and now …’ She moved her hand again. ‘Lighter, like rose wine.’
‘Is Joey OK?’ Tess asked, waving a hand in front of her face to ward off the heat that was stifling, here on the wooden jetty on the beach. Joey was stood a few yards away, carefully positioned in the only bit of shade available from the overhang of a sign advertising boat hire.
‘It’s the heat,’ Sonya answered. ‘We had to get five fans for the bedroom last night. At first, given the stale air issue, we were going to try without anything, but then Joey’s bites started itching and he started scratching and I said cooling him off was the only way to ease things.’
‘I was hoping you would be hotting things up in the bedroom, not cooling things down,’ Tess remarked.
‘Oh, we did that, twice, before the itching and scratching – and a little bit before I introduced him to ouzo.’
‘Here they are,’ Tess announced, her eyes going to the beach.
‘Oh my!’ Sonya exclaimed. ‘Kira looks so beautiful.’
‘Now you have to spit,’ Tess ordered.
‘What?’
‘According to Greek tradition – Andras filled me in – every time someone compliments the bride today you have to spit.’
‘What, here? On the floor?’
‘I have no idea.’
‘Let me get a tissue,’ Sonya said, unzipping her handbag.
‘Apparently she also has a lump of sugar under one of those gloves and a gold coin in her shoe,’ Tess added.
‘Goodness!’
Kira did look beautiful. Her abundant hair was plaited back off her face, flowers threaded into the design and her dress was simple, long and white with a lace cape over her shoulders. On her feet were the shoes all the women had signed at the pre-wedding family dinner.
Spiros led the donkey, Andras by his side, so handsome in royal blue suits, white shirts and waistcoats. Tess’s skin prickled in reaction to her lover’s gaze as he made his way towards the wedding guests waiting by the two large boats that would take them all on the short cruise to Agios Spyridon.
‘I think I’m going to cry,’ Sonya said, the tissue she had got out to spit in now serviced in wiping at her eyes. ‘I wonder where she got that lace cape … do you think that would look good on me?’
Suddenly, Tess’s arm was not her own and she looked to see Isadora at her side, in the process of linking their arms together.
‘You will sit with me,’ Isadora stated.
Tess looked to Sonya for some sort of assistance or a get-out. This could not be good.
On board the boat, filled with both families of the wedding couple, Papa Yiannis led some holy chanting to which everyone seemed to know how to respond. Sonya and Joey were sat at the very edge of the boat, hands locked together. Tess’s arm was still being softly crushed, Greek style, by Isadora, who hadn’t released her grip since they had set sail.
‘My son says that he loves you.’ Isadora spoke low in Tess’s ear.
She wasn’t sure what to say. She had a feeling this was going to be a little bit like watching a sex scene on television when you were thirteen and your parents were in the same room. She opted for nodding her head.
‘Andras does not love easily,’ Isadora continued.
‘I know,’ Tess replied.
‘He might seem like the strong Greek man who can take on the world but … there is much more than that.’
‘I know,’ Tess repeated. ‘Isadora, I should apologise for pretending to be something I wasn’t when we first met. I didn’t think enough about it and, before I knew it, I was in the middle of it and then … well, here we are.’ She didn’t know if she had ever said as many words and said absolutely nothing at all.
‘My boys,’ Isadora said, shaking her head, eyes going to Andras and Spiros at the head of the vessel. ‘They will do and say anything rather than tell a truth I do not want to hear and face the consequences.’
‘If we are talking truths and parents,’ Tess began, ‘I haven’t been able to tell my mother anything that wasn’t about tea or mackerel hotpot for a year.’
She felt, rather than saw, Isadora’s tur
n of head, the weight of the Greek woman’s gaze on her.
‘I think it is in all children,’ she sighed. ‘A deep despondency when you know you have done something to disappoint the ones that love you most, and you’re sorry, but suddenly, somehow everything has changed.’
‘You must speak with your mother,’ Isadora ordered.
‘I know,’ Tess answered. ‘I’m going to.’
Her arm was squeezed again, but this time more a reassuring pinch than boa-constrictor-on-a-mission.
‘I see how Andras is with you,’ Isadora said. ‘And this time … I hear what he tells me.’
Tess didn’t know how to respond. She looked across the boat at the main players in the wedding, watching Andras talking with his brother, then smoothing down the shoulders of his jacket.
‘You make him happy,’ Isadora admitted. She sniffed. ‘Perhaps that is enough.’ She sighed. ‘I have always only wanted for him to be happy.’
‘He makes me happy too,’ Tess finally replied, smiling as Andras looked over at her.
‘Good,’ Isadora answered. ‘Then today we will all be happy!’ She dropped Tess’s arm and stood up with the aid of her stick. ‘Everybody sing! Come on! This is a wedding, not a funeral! We will sing and we will dance! Ela!’
Seventy-three
Agios Spyridon
Light from dozens of candles filled the holy space as the bride and groom stood before the priest, their family and friends, a donkey, a goat and three chickens (an odd number for luck) to become man and wife.
‘What are they doing next?’ Joey whispered to Sonya.
Sonya leafed through the book on her lap, eyes scrutinising the writing within. ‘I’m not sure. Did they do the exchange of crowns?’
‘Yes,’ Tess said. ‘Didn’t you see? Three times of swapping.’
‘It says something here about a common cup,’ Sonya stated.
‘I think you’ll find that’s called a mug,’ Tess replied.
‘No, there’s a cup that the priest fills with wine that symbolises life and the couple each take three sips out of it to signify how they will share their life together.’ Sonya looked to Joey. ‘This is so traditional and lovely. Maybe we could incorporate that into our wedding.’
‘Three sips of Davey Black Friar’s mead,’ Joey suggested.
‘Oh yes! He does make a lovely mead,’ Sonya agreed.
‘They’re walking around the table,’ Tess pointed out.
‘Are they?’ Sonya asked. ‘With candles and the Bible?’ She shifted her position, looking around the large frame of Fotis who was stood in front of them.
‘It looks that way,’ Tess answered.
‘How’s Helena holding up?’ Sonya asked. ‘I can’t see her from here.’
Tess leaned out a little. ‘I can see the top of her flowered hat. I think she’s still standing … oh, they’re coming down the middle of the church.’
‘Did they do it?’ Sonya asked. ‘Are they married?’
‘I think so,’ Tess said. ‘Everyone is smiling.’
‘Kira’s Uncle Timon has been smiling since we got on the boat. I think he has a hip flask of tsipouro.’
‘What’s tsipouro?’ Joey inquired.
‘A bit like mead,’ Sonya said, patting his leg.
‘Or battery acid,’ Tess added.
Andras now had a sister-in-law and his little brother was married, about to embark on a new adventure on the Greek mainland. He couldn’t be happier for him. It had been a beautiful ceremony, his mother had cried happy tears and as the prayers and traditions were being shared, he had thought only of Tess, his deep affection for her and how their meeting had changed him.
The bright sunshine greeted them as they stepped out of the church to almost an entire village full of people cheering and clapping their hands together. It seemed Agios Spyridon, like Kalami, had all come out to celebrate the wedding Greek style.
As people pumped his hands and Helena and the other young children gave out sugared almonds to everyone, he searched for Tess. He had something he wanted to give her.
‘I am married!’ It was Spiros, grinning like a man who was destined to spend the rest of his days with the love of his life. ‘Married!’
Andras clapped him into a brotherly hug, holding him tight. ‘Congratulations, Spiro. I am so happy for you.’
Spiros held Andras away from him, eying him sincerely. ‘And I am happy for you, with Tess.’
Spiros shook his head and brushed some imaginary dust off his brother’s suit jacket. ‘She is going back to England soon.’
‘She is?’ Spiros inquired.
‘Of course,’ Andras replied. ‘That is where she lives.’
‘You do not think to ask her to stay?’ Spiros asked. ‘I know what I said before, but the way you are with her, it is like me and Kira.’
Andras smiled. ‘No one is like you and Kira, Spiro.’
‘I get it,’ Spiros said. ‘You do not want to talk about your feelings with your brother.’ He opened his arms. ‘But now I am married I have been bestowed with counselling properties.’
Andras let out a laugh.
‘Do not mock me; ask Papa Yiannis.’
Andras drew Spiros back into a hug, squeezing hard. ‘I am so proud of you, my brother.’
‘Stop now, please, Kira is desperate for the photographer to capture all these crazy “emotional” pictures. I am planning to be in none of those!’
Andras stepped back and, as he did so, there was Tess, standing under the large eucalyptus tree seeking shelter from the direct sunlight. The cream, light fabric dress she was wearing moved with the gentle sea breeze, her hair too, that beautiful hair …
‘Go to her,’ Spiros ordered. ‘Give her that candle I saw you put into your pocket.’
Andras smiled at his brother then stepped towards Tess. The wedding had been so different to a traditional English wedding. There had been no exchanging of vows, just the priest making blessings and a lot of chanting, but the symbolism, the things done for luck, had been utterly charming and captivating. This was all on the cards for Sonya very soon. Her best friend was going to be putting that scrapbook of wedding plans to the test very soon.
‘Tess.’
And there was Andras, looking super-hot in that suit, a sliver of olive chest exposed beneath the unbuttoned white shirt, stood beside her.
She smiled. ‘The wedding was lovely.’
‘Could you see? There were so many people in the church I could hardly breathe.’ He smiled.
‘We were behind Fotis,’ she answered. ‘But we made it work.’
He reached into the pocket of his trousers and drew out a taper candle, simple, no Jo Malone, its wick black where it had been lit. He held it out to her.
‘What is it?’ Tess asked. ‘I mean, obviously it’s a candle but …’
‘It is one of the candles that was lit during the wedding ceremony,’ Andras replied. ‘It represents everlasting love and Kira and Spiros will keep the candles until they are all burned right down to the end.’ He gave her the candle. ‘Except this one. This one I want to give to you.’
‘Andras …’ Tess said.
‘You do not have to say anything. I just want you to have it and to take it back to England and maybe light it and remember Corfu.’
She wrapped her fingers around the candle. ‘I won’t forget Corfu, Andras.’
‘Andras!’ It was Marietta calling, beckoning furiously from a few yards away. ‘It’s the donkey!’
‘Go,’ Tess said, sniffing away her emotion as best as she could. ‘Go and be the koumbaro. Did I say that right?’
Andras nodded. ‘Yes.’ He kissed her quickly. ‘Sagapo.’
‘What?’ Tess exclaimed as Andras made off, the donkey appearing from the right adopting speeds of a steed Frankie Dettori might have mounted. ‘What does that mean?’
She slipped her free hand into her bag, determined to ask Google Translate the answer, but checking the home screen she saw she had thr
ee missed calls, all from the same person. Mum.
It was time to face the music. Her stomach in knots, she pressed the screen. Closing her eyes she listened to the number eventually connect and then:
‘Hello.’
There was her mother’s voice, sounding more poignant than ever before.
Voice choking up, Tess replied. ‘Hello, Mum, it’s me.’
Seventy-four
Taverna Georgiou
Joey threw a plaster-of-Paris plate as hard as he could at the floor of the restaurant as, all around the bits and pieces of crockery, the wedding guests swerved and jigged and hopped and skipped their way across the room in time to the Greek band. It was evening and the celebrations were still continuing. The food, as always, had been divine – dips and bread, olives, fresh fish, rosemary-coated roast potatoes, green beans and a selection of puddings Tess had liberally dipped into. It was such a wonderful culmination of everything they had enjoyed during their Greek holiday.
‘He’s been wanting to do that all evening,’ Sonya remarked, seeming to marvel at Joey’s smashing skills.
Tess smiled and took another sip of the sweet white wine they had been drinking since the afternoon, with plenty of water in between to counteract the alcohol and the heat. ‘I spoke to my mum.’
Sonya gave Tess her full attention then. ‘You did?’
‘I did,’ Tess replied, feeling lightness fill her up as she recalled their talk.
‘And … how did it go?’ Sonya asked.
‘Better than I could ever have hoped for,’ Tess said.
There had been so many tears as she had leant against the eucalyptus tree telling her mother how sorry she was about the wedding, how for so long she had hated herself, blamed herself and how she had been saving long and hard to make things right. And her mum had listened, just listened, until Tess was completely spent and then there had been tears from her too. Sadness that Tess had ever felt that way and promises that their connection would never be lost again.
‘I’m so glad, Tess,’ Sonya said, chinking her glass with her friend’s.
‘And I’m going to pay for her to go to New Zealand. She told me she didn’t want the money I’ve been saving, that Dad could do without it too. The loans are all paid off, but I’m not going to let her give up on her dream.’
