Game of Scones

by Samantha Tonge

  The stranger stared at me and then, with a surprised tone, muttered something in Greek. With one swift movement, he leant forward to remove my glasses and hat.

  ‘It is you!’ He gasped. ‘I recognise that feisty tone anywhere – yet you have no idea who I am.’

  But I was hardly listening and in reply promptly vomited over his leather sandals, before everything went black.

  Chapter Three

  If this was heaven, then sorry Mum, Dad and Henrik, but I’m reluctant to come back to earth. Eyes still closed, I breathed in the comforting aroma of tomato and beef. Foreign voices muttered in the background. Cold air fanned across my face. Someone held my hand so gently, as if I were as valuable as a Fabergé egg.

  Eventually I opened my eyes to wooden beams above my head and ochre walls all around. Guitars, pots and plates filled slightly wonky shelves. A ceiling fan spun above. Squinting, I averted my eyes to focus on the person who sat by me, their fingers curled around mine, a leather bracelet around their wrist.

  Mmm. Caramel skin… a man with curly dark hair and mocha eyes full of concern… slanted lips… would they taste of olives or baklava?

  I shook myself. Honestly, I was practically engaged! The sun must have warped all sense of reason. Clearing my throat, I focussed again. Ah yes, the tight vest top… those frayed jeans… This was the guy who’d called me idiot; the guy whose shoes must be covered in sick. My stomach twisted slightly. Something was bugging me. The thick eyelashes… the way his head cocked slightly to the left… A voice in my head whispered that I’d seen him before today.

  ‘What happened?’ I mumbled.

  My vision sharpened and behind him stood two short middle-aged figures. The woman patted my shoulder before passing me a glass of water. I sat up and took a large sip, then set the drink on a scratched mahogany table. I looked up to say thank you and gasped.

  ‘Sophia?’ I gazed at the man next to her. ‘Georgios?’ Of course, I was in Taxos Taverna! I’d been lying on a sun lounger they must have brought in from outside. The wonky shelves… the familiar ochre walls… It all made sense now. So this man holding my hand had to be…

  ‘Niko?’

  ‘Ya sou, Pippa,’ he said, eyes dancing, probably because of my dropped jaw. I scanned him from head to toe. Of course. How hadn’t I recognised him earlier? Despite the fuller build and inches he’d grown, there was no mistaking the slightly bent nose and mole just above his left eyebrow. Laughter lit up his eyes. I grinned back, leant forward and gave him a big hug. Eek! How embarrassing, that just for one minute earlier – well, a second… no, a nanosecond, really – I’d considered him hot stuff.

  ‘It’s great seeing you all again,’ I stuttered, hoping my breath didn’t smell of sick. ‘My parents send their love.’

  ‘They shall visit us this evening, no?’ said Georgios. ‘We are so happy to see you. Tonight we celebrate.’

  I loved the sound of the locals speaking English. Thanks to tourism, most people in Kos knew a smattering of my language – and many, like this dear family, much more than just a few essential phrases.

  ‘Afraid not. They are visiting my aunt in Canada. It’s just me here, with my… boyfriend, Henrik.’

  Niko’s body stiffened, like a dog that had suddenly got a whiff of a cat.

  ‘Ah yes. We met him last winter.’ Georgios’ smile widened. ‘I introduced him to retsina. He was a little ill afterwards.’

  ‘Talking of which, sorry about your sandals, Niko,’ I said.

  Georgios’ deep laugh bellowed out. Sophia punched her husband’s arm.

  ‘My little meatball, it is not funny. Poor Pippitsa has not been well.’ She came forward and kissed me on the forehead.

  Sophia hadn’t changed, apart from being just a little fuller around the waist. My chest glowed at the familiarity of her floral skirt, long hair scraped into a bun and friendly heart-shaped face.

  Playfully Niko shook a finger. ‘What a welcome you gave me, Pippa, although… sorry for calling you vlakas.’

  My cheeks burned. ‘Sorry I palmed you – must have been due to sunstroke.’

  ‘Enough of the apologies,’ said Georgios and ran a hand over his round, hairless head before stepping forward to give me a hug. He’d been bald as long as I’d known him, and still tried to make up for that with a big, black moustache. ‘Pippa, to see you back in Taxos after so many years, warms my heart. But before we exchange news, you eat, no? Let me fetch moussaka, or a fresh feta salad, with toasted pitta bread, like you always preferred.’ He raised his bushy eyebrows which were grey and didn’t match his moustache.

  ‘Both dishes sound lovely – although that moussaka smells divine. Efharisto.’ Some words, like “thank you”, had stuck in my mind.

  Sophia insisted on helping me to one of the tables, then took the sun lounger outside as a couple of blonde tourists trickled in – a rare sight, I suspected, in Taxos nowadays. On her return we chatted about my job and parents. Niko headed over to the diners, two young women.

  ‘Ya sas, ladeez,’ he said and soon they were laughing with him. Neither could take their eyes off my Greek childhood friend. No idea why. The fact that I couldn’t either meant, um, nothing at all.

  ‘Apollo?’ I said to a black cat that strolled over and meowed. I picked him up and tickled his chin, before running my hand over the soft fur. Niko eventually came back, carrying two plates of moussaka – not without winking at the tourists, as he passed them. Sophia left us alone at the table to catch up. Carefully, I put the purring cat down.

  ‘I can’t believe Apollo is still around.’

  Niko forked up the juicy layers of meat and vegetables as if he’d not eaten for a week. Henrik would not have approved – back home, he never ate without a full set of cutlery and napkin.

  Several mouthfuls later, Niko paused for breath. A chuckle escaped his lips. ‘Sorry, hunger wins over manners when I’ve been out fishing all morning… Yes, Apollo does well – he is eighteen this year and still catching mice. And I can’t believe you’ve come back, Tomboy…’ His eyes shone. ‘Although I cannot call you that any more.’ He put down his fork and reached for my hand. ‘Those manicured nails – so mature and sophisticated, no? And your neatly tied-back hair… Where are those cute spots on your cheeks?’

  ‘You mean freckles? I’ve discovered foundation – and hairbrushes. So, guilty as charged – I’ve grown up.’

  Like two teenagers, we giggled.

  ‘That I see,’ he said, and for some reason the way he stared made my palms feel hot. ‘You happy, no, with your fancy bank job and living with Henrik, in London? In January he told us all about it.’

  Gosh, I’d forgotten how intense his gaze was. I’d also forgotten Henrik until just now. But that was normal, right? I’d just blacked out. Ignoring the guilty twinge in my chest, I decided he was no doubt tucked up in the mosquito net, sleeping off several hard months of work and today’s early start.

  ‘Hmm my colleagues… London… Me and Henrik, it is… very nice.’

  Niko burst out laughing. ‘Remember all those summers you taught me English? Rule one was NEVER use the word “nice”. You said it meant nothing at all.’

  I bit my lip. ‘Well, my English teacher drilled that into me. He was my idol. I was a bit of a language geek back then.’

  ‘But still…’ Niko picked up his fork again and toyed with a slice of melt-in-the-mouth aubergine, ignoring the cat’s hopeful stare. ‘You and Henrik… All you can say is it’s nice?’

  ‘Yes – unlike you,’ I replied, in the frostiest voice I could muster.

  Sophia glanced over as once more we laughed. She looked from Niko, to me, then back at him and her mouth downturned for a moment. She exchanged a glance with her husband. Sophia’s whole demeanour couldn’t hide a sense of… not exactly disapproval but something negative. Niko seemed to sense it too and jerked his head towards my empty plate.

  ‘You and me – let’s get some fresh air,’ he said. ‘We take two orange granitas down
to the beach. Siesta is almost over, it will be cooler and I know a shady spot.’

  ‘Under the fig tree, by the disused boatshed, just before Caretta Cove – is it still the same?’

  Niko’s face lit up. ‘You remember?’

  I went to the bathroom to freshen up and when I returned Niko had prepared the slushy ice drinks. We went outside and I stared at the drinks in sealed paper cups, with straws.

  He shrugged. ‘We do takeaway drinks and food now. Times have been hard.’

  ‘The other half of the taverna is closed down…’

  ‘Yes. On a good day, we are lucky to fill just the half that is now open.’

  I slipped my arm through his, enjoying the breeze which blew stronger. It was as if the last nine years apart hadn’t happened. In fact, I almost expected him to drop a beetle or handful of damp seaweed down my back. I sucked up the refreshing granita as we strolled down the left side of the beach and eventually came to a sprawling fig tree by a dilapidated building. In the distance stood the ash and green southern mountains, all hazy at the top. We sat on the sand underneath the tree. I removed my floppy hat and sunglasses and swatted away a wasp.

  ‘That was weird,’ I said.

  Niko raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Walking together, with you now taller than me. I couldn’t give you a piggy-back any more.’

  ‘And look at you, in those fashionable heels.’ He gazed at my feet.

  ‘I forgot to change into my sandals,’ I said and kicked them off.

  Niko took my drink and put the two cups down by his side.

  ‘I no criticise, Pippa. You are a beautiful woman – more striking than the orange blush of a sunset. But then I always thought you were out of the ordinary. I…’ He shrugged. ‘I never thought I’d see you again.’

  For a moment I lost myself in his mocha eyes and swallowed hard. Henrik would never say something like that. I shook myself. And quite right too. It was okay in books, but what modern woman needed to actually hear romantic mush? Yet my heart raced like it never used to years ago, in my Greek friend’s company. What was going on? Clearly the strong Aegean sun had a lot to answer for.

  I cleared my throat. ‘So, um, come on then – what’s the punchline?’ I leant back on my elbows.

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘The joke… after that compliment.’

  Niko’s eyes lost their intensity for a second and he grinned. ‘We used to laugh a lot, no? Okay… Would you feel happier if I said you look very nice instead?’

  ‘Don’t you dare!’ I laughed and turned onto my front. ‘Does Cosmo still play his harmonica?

  Niko smiled. ‘All the time.’

  ‘How about Demetrios? Remember the awful, wonky pots we made – is he married yet?’

  ‘No. But he adopted four stray cats. How they are spoilt – he made each a food bowl with their name.’

  ‘And is his shop still the only building in the village that isn’t painted white and blue?’

  Niko nodded. ‘Yes, it is still the colour of aubergine, with ivy growing across the roof. Before the recession hit, Demetrios laid fancy tiles on the floor and bought a new kiln… So inside it has changed, but from the outside it still looks about one hundred years old, with the unlevel foundations that make it sink to the right.’

  I grinned. ‘It’s good to be back.’

  ‘How long for?’

  ‘Three whole weeks.’

  ‘Ah, yesis good. We can get to know each other again. I have missed you these last summers, Pippa.’

  My stomach fluttered. I realised I’d missed him too.

  ‘You and Henrik…’ He bit his lip. ‘It is true love… forever, no?’

  ‘Niko!’ I grinned. ‘We haven’t seen each other for so many years and within minutes you cut straight to the chase!’

  ‘Huh… chase?’ His gaze bore straight through me. ‘We haven’t seen each other for nine years, Pippa. Time isn’t to waste. You are sure he’s good enough?’

  I raised one eyebrow. ‘Why would you ask that?’

  Niko glanced away. ‘It’s just… Ay, ignore me, Pippa. You are an intelligent woman who wouldn’t waste time on the wrong man.’ He stared at the sand. ‘No one could believe his size, when he visited in January. The village’s children called him Gigantes, after our country’s mythical giant tribe.’ A muscle in his cheek flinched. ‘And the women couldn’t do enough for your Dutch goliath. Young Alysia from next door managed to build up a secret album of photos of Henrik, taken on her mobile phone.’

  I gazed sideways at him. ‘So, if we’re being so forthright, what about you? Has Nikolaos Sotiropoulos found the woman of his dreams?’

  His cheeks flushed. ‘For a long time I’ve doubted I ever would, but life is full of surprises. Perhaps now…’ He squeezed my hand. ‘Fate has been kind to me.’

  My stomach flipped. Surely not…? Could he mean me? No. This was Shorty, just a family friend, who used to scare me with grass snakes – at his peril, I might add, as I knew spiders gave him the shakes.

  I breathed in and out. Clearly the sun was messing with my brain.

  ‘So… Taxos… How are you all managing, with the recession?’ I mumbled, not quite sure what to say next.

  ‘Huh? Oh…’ Niko’s brow wrinkled and he drew circles in the sand with his finger.

  ‘Not good. I help Papa and Mama where I can, as a chef and waiter. Plus my cousin Stefan and I take out my uncle’s boat every morning to fish – after siesta we sponge-dive. But the locals watch every euro and there are only so many sponges you can sell to the neighbouring villages.’ He too lay on his front, so close it reminded me of when we’d hide, stretched out under tarpaulin, in the bottom of his uncle’s boat, to avoid our parents calling us in for bed.

  Niko nodded across the sand. ‘See Mrs Dellis, over there?’

  The old lady was easy to pick out as the beach was still empty. Dressed in black, from her scarf to her shoes, she sat in a deckchair, under a large parasol. Two young children built sandcastles at her feet. By the side of them lay two red lilos.

  ‘I’m surprised to see them out in this midday heat,’ I said.

  He shrugged. ‘Two young boys must be hard for her to keep entertained. Their family is typical of many – her son-in-law lost his job as a website designer in Kos town. He’s gone back to farming the little land they have, with his wife, who makes cheese. They trade with farmers in neighbouring villages, try to sell jam and pickles as well, but is hard, especially in winter. More than ever grandparents look after children, whilst both parents work all hours.’

  ‘How do your uncle and cousin manage – just by fishing?’

  ‘My cousin and I have more physical strength now, so we’ve taken over. Uncle Christos gets shift- work cleaning, or as security at the airport, when he can.’

  My eyes ran over Niko’s solid body. Despite being short as a child, he’d always been strong.

  A relaxed silence fell between us as I glanced at houses lining the beach, each blue and white, like the sand, like the sky; each with a boatshed that could have done with a lick of paint. Henrik had been right – the village did look rundown. Henrik. With a sigh I realised it was time to return to the villa. I hadn’t even bought any milk or bread. I glanced up at the tree branches overhanging us. Their big leaves shimmied in the wind. Plump, green figs drooped down, as shapely as any Kardashian bottom, a clear sign they were ripe. Niko followed my gaze, stood up and easily plucked one off.

  He lay down next to me again, caught my eye and I nodded. Just like in the old days, he rubbed it against his vest top before taking the first bite. Juice trickled out of the corner of his mouth as he passed me the other half. The cinnamon flesh glistened. I pushed it between my lips. Slowly I chewed, savouring its sweet lushness.

  ‘I’m glad you haven’t become too posh to eat the skin,’ said Niko and his mouth slanted into a smile.

  ‘I haven’t changed that much,’ I mumbled, as with his thumb, he gently wiped away juice from my chin. Hi
s hand lingered. Our eyes locked. The strangest sensation ran up and down my spine. As his pupils dilated, I wondered if mine were doing the same.

  ‘You still have those thick eyelashes,’ I murmured.

  ‘Remember you’d beg me to give you butterfly kisses,’ he said, eyes teasing. ‘You’d say “Niko, lean forward close and bat your eyelashes against mine”. The tickling sensation made your laugh sound like a braying donkey.’

  I chuckled.

  ‘Go on – let’s do it, for… what do you say? For old clock’s sake.’

  ‘Old time’s sake… ‘

  His grin widened. ‘Unless… perhaps Pippa Pattinson is boring in her old age?’

  I snorted. ‘Fine. Go ahead.’ Our faces neared by a centimetre. Then another. Despite the shade, my body felt as if I were lying on volcanic rock. He pressed right up close, his breath blowing against mine. Our eyelashes touched.

  What would happen if my mouth tilted just a few millimetres forwards? It was as if every cell in my body was magnetised to his. Oh God, all I could think of, right at this moment, was him. The memories, history between us, the laughter, silly arguments, the small scar above his lip…

  I shut my eyes, to be met with a kaleidoscope of colours, as if magical fairy dust swirled in my head. Wow. What was that? Unable to stop myself, eyes open now, I leant further forward, calling on all my willpower not to press my lips against his – although if I didn’t soon, my insides would surely explode… By now we held each other’s hands. Gently our noses met. It was as if time had stood still to shout “all those moments from your childhood were leading to this”. Was I still out cold from sunstroke? Was this all a dream?

  ‘Pippa! I thought you were shopping,’ hollered a familiar male voice, from behind. ‘What on earth are you doing?’

  No, I was wide awake and with a jolt pulled away.

  Chapter Four

  I swung around and got to my feet. Henrik approached, the wind almost blowing off his cap. He removed it himself to reveal Top Gun sunglasses. Behind him smiled a young Greek woman with a purple flower in her hair.