Game of Scones

by Samantha Tonge

  And of course, Henrik would propose this Friday, during lunch on the “special day out”. After eating, he would no doubt take me on a shopping trip to buy the ring and dress. The invitations for locals wouldn’t arrive until later that day either, in case anyone ruined my surprise. Super organised Henrik would have thought of everything. But then, as someone who excelled at arranging surprises, a wedding was the ultimate bash. He’d probably already picked out all essentials. All I’d need to do was turn up and approve his choices.

  In a daze, as I’d left the pub, I headed for the nearest jewellers and spent a few minutes studying the exquisite wedding rings. Trouble was, the tingles I got came from admiring the craftsmanship of the jewellers, not from the prospect of spending the rest of my days with Henrik. So, I gave myself a good talking to. Any man who went to such trouble to marry me must surely be The One. Pursing my lips, I tracked down a shop that sold edible gold glitter. I’d never meet a more suitable partner than Henrik, so I should get ready for the weekend, when we would exchange our vows.

  ‘So, how did your lunch go, Henrik?’ I said – since meeting up again, all we’d discussed was ThinkBig’s more general plans to develop parts of the Aegean islands that bankrupt native builders couldn’t afford.

  He turned up the air-con and before returning to the steering wheel, his hand squeezed mine.

  ‘You would have enjoyed it, Pippa – I had sticky toffee pudding, your favourite. And what a relief to drink English coffee again.’

  ‘We’ve only been here four days!’

  He grimaced. ‘Four days of pouring sludge down my throat.’

  ‘Nothing wrong with Greek coffee – Grandma Sotiropoulos reads the sediment like tea leaves, you know.’

  ‘Did she predict your wonderful financial career when you were younger then? And your amazing boyfriend?’

  We both laughed. Yet I thought for a moment…

  ‘Funny you should say that – she did once say a man with foreign blood would capture my heart. Thanks to Greta, I’m guessing you’d fit the bill.’ More proof perhaps, that Henrik was my Mr Right.

  Of course, at the time of Grandma’s prediction, newly fourteen year old me had pulled a face. The idea of even kissing any member of the opposite sex didn’t appeal, (er okay, not unless he was Harry Potter whom I thought was really cool).

  ‘Is that what I’ve done, Pippa?’ he said, softly. ‘Captured your heart?’

  The word “yes” should have easily slipped off my tongue, but for some reason my throat closed up. Thankfully a diversion took his attention, as a herd of goats wandered into our way. Henrik hooted the horn.

  ‘Blood and sand, it’s like living in the dark ages,’ he said and finally steered onto the road for Taxos.

  I hardly heard his indignation, having turned back to watch the goat herder move the animals on, by walking amongst them and not at the front. As a young man, Georgios had herded goats. Apparently the secret was to make the animals think you were one of them. Dragging or shouting would never work. Georgios would spend weeks petting and feeding a new flock, to gain trust first. This was just another example of why Greek rural life rocked. Henrik knew me well by setting the wedding in Taxos and not Kos Town. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed a day of shopping and a night on the dance floor with cocktails as much as anyone – but my heart was in the village, not a soulless tourist spot.

  Having said that, parts of Kos Town were beautiful and how lucky was Stavros working in its pretty Venetian town hall?

  ‘So, um, whom did you meet exactly?’ I asked.

  Henrik gazed firmly ahead. ‘A contractor. Cheap as chips. We might be able to offer him work.’

  Despite my nerve-wracking discovery of an imminent proposal, I couldn’t help smiling. Honest Henrik had managed to force out a lie, so that the wedding day remained secret.

  When we got back to the villa, I headed into the kitchen to take stock of our cupboards whilst he changed out of his stiff suit, to swiftly return in his lycra swimshorts – not the garish Hawaiian ones. He must have been planning some serious front crawl.

  ‘Fancy joining me to do some lengths in the pool?’ he said and walked over. I dropped my tea-towel on the unit as he bent down for a kiss. Tenderly, his arms draped around the back of my legs. With ease he lifted me onto the breakfast bar and nuzzled just beneath my ear. I used to like him doing that, but now it just felt like an annoying tickle.

  ‘We’re out of butter…’ I said and cleared my throat, before breaking away. ‘And milk. I’d better head into town before the supermarket closes.’

  ‘You’d rather run errands than spend time here, kissing me?’ His lips quirked into a smile as I laughed it off.

  ‘Fine,’ he said, ‘but let me help you cool off before your dusty walk into Taxos.’

  Henrik scooped me up and before I knew it, we’d gone onto the patio and passed the apricot tree, arriving poolside.

  ‘Henrik! Don’t you dare!’ I said in a loud voice.

  ‘Ask nicely,’ he said and held tighter, a pretend fierce look on his face.

  Wriggling like a hooked fish, I couldn’t help laughing. ‘For God’s sake, we’re in our twenties, not teens,’ I yelled. Talk about out-of-character behaviour. Spontaneity and Henrik didn’t often meet.

  He swung me in his arms, backwards and forwards.

  ‘No, Henrik, please don’t do it. I’m begging you!’ It was my turn to pretend now, so I’d put on a scared voice and screeched.

  Uh oh. Too late. Picture me in the water, having resurfaced to shake my fist. Henrik jumped in after me and I swam over, trying to pull him under the water for a joke, enjoying a few seconds of pure fun. But I couldn’t budge him one millimetre and his arms and legs flailed. And whose legs were those, in jeans? I shot up to the surface.

  ‘What the… ? Get off him!’ I hollered, before taking in a mouthful of chlorinated water. A man was in the pool, his caramel-skinned, strong-looking arm clamped around Henrik’s neck. The checked shirt… curly black hair… ‘Niko? What the hell are you doing?’

  ‘No worry, Pippa,’ he spluttered. ‘You’re safe now. I heard screams.’

  Henrik roared and after much effort, unwrapped Niko’s arm from his throat, then span in the water and punched the Greek straight on the nose. Niko’s face slammed to one side. When he looked back, eyes fiery, blood ran down from his nostrils and he raised his hand, about to deliver a return blow.

  ‘Stop it, both of you!’ I paddled my legs and arms furiously, until I bobbed in between them. ‘Henrik was just messing about. He threw me in the pool for a joke.’

  Both men gasped for breath.

  ‘How did you get into our villa anyway, you moron,’ spat Henrik.

  ‘The front door isn’t locked.’ He scowled. ‘I heard Pippa beg you to stop. Lots of screaming… that’s unusual around here.’ He swam to the side of the pool and pulled himself out. ‘I thought…’

  ‘What? That Henrik’s a woman beater? How dare you!’ I climbed out and picked up Henrik’s towel.

  The three of us grimaced for a few moments, whilst we caught our breath. ‘Look… Henrik, you have your swim whilst I see Niko out.’

  ‘He’s lucky I don’t call the police.’ Henrik sneered.

  I glared pointedly at Niko who duly stood up, slipped into his sandals and followed me inside, to the kitchen.

  ‘What was that all about?’ I said as he sat on one of the stools at the breakfast bar. Water dripped all over the laminate floor, but in this weather would soon dry.

  ‘I was worried about you. I don’t trust Henrik.’

  Closing my lips firmly, so that an expletive didn’t slip out, I passed him a square of kitchen roll for his nose.

  ‘Then I suggest you keep out of our way, whilst we are here. This time your stupid allegations have gone too far. And I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself, thank you very much.’

  ‘Against Gigantes Henrik?’

  I flushed. ‘What… you think I’d parade aroun
d here with a man who beat me?’ I shook my head. ‘And if it hadn’t happened before, why would he start on a relaxing holiday?’

  ‘I heard your fear and…’ His hand went under his shirt and rubbed up and down, as he stared at the table top. I knew what he was thinking. That day, years ago… the jellyfish attack. His scar…

  ‘The idea of you being hurt… I didn’t think straight,’ he muttered.

  I avoided his eye. ‘You don’t need to worry about me. What were you doing out here, anyway?’

  Niko pulled his hand back out into the open. ‘I wanted to know about today. Henrik – he met Stavros no?’

  My cheeks flushed as I ran the tap and filled a glass with water. I took a sip.

  ‘Yes… But it’s not what you think. I can’t say any more at the moment. You’ll just have to trust me – and the mayor and Henrik.’

  Niko snorted. ‘Trust, Stavros? No. And don’t be so naive – it has to be pretty big business for Henrik to interrupt his holiday.’

  I put down the drink and my fists curled. ‘Henrik is one of the most honest people I know. Just leave. I won’t hear another word against him.’

  He stood up. ‘Pippa. Don’t be foolish.’

  ‘Foolish? To trust the most loyal, respectful man I know – who’s actually arranging a secret wedding?’ Shoot. I’d let out the secret, before Henrik had even had a chance to propose.

  ‘What?’ Niko’s mouth fell open.

  ‘That’s what he and Stavros were meeting about – clearly they’ve become friends. They discussed the location, invitations and cake. No doubt the mayor has been helping Henrik wade through all the paperwork.’

  Niko’s shoulders slumped. ‘You… Henrik… getting married?’

  ‘Yes, he’s going to ask me on Friday and I’d appreciate it if you’d keep it quiet. Henrik’s gone to a lot of trouble to make this special. Not a word to anyone else, okay?’

  His sandals made a squelching noise as he stepped forward. ‘Look, Pippa, I still think you are making a mistake. Stavros no do anyone a favour without expecting something back. They must have made some deal. Open your eyes.’

  ‘Perhaps you should open your eyes about Leila!’ I snapped. Urgh. I hadn’t meant to talk about his fiancée and her foreign job searching until I’d had time to word it carefully – or subtly quiz her. Annoying as Niko was, I didn’t want to upset him. Yet he didn’t seem bothered about hurting my feelings, when it came to Henrik.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Nothing… Look, ignore me I’m just being childish,’ I mumbled and headed down the corridor to the front door. ‘You should go now.’

  I stopped as a hand squeezed my shoulder and turned me around.

  ‘I always could tell when you lie. You hold your hands together.’

  I glanced down at my fingers, all of them intertwined.

  ‘So, Leila…?’ He raised one eyebrow, drops of water still clinging to his face.

  I sighed. ‘She was in Kos Town today. I spotted her in an employment agency.’ I stared at the floor. ‘Leila sat at the international recruitment desk.’

  ‘You’re talking rubbish – she been in bed, ill.’

  I met his gaze and swallowed. ‘Sorry, but it was her. Perhaps, well, you know, she’s as casual about the relationship as you.’

  ‘Me? Casual about Leila?’ His red cheeks turned purple. ‘And you need glasses.’

  ‘Did you actually see her this morning?’ I asked.

  ‘No, but–’

  ‘Well, I did. Twenty kilometres from here. She lied to you about feeling sick. Sorry, but that’s the truth.’

  ‘You got close enough to speak to her?’

  ‘No, but…’

  ‘So. It’s you who’s mistaken.’ His eyes sparked. ‘You’ve got it wrong. Leila is marrying me – and staying in Taxos.’ He took a step forwards. ‘And I know you’re close to Grandma but don’t dare express doubts to her about my fiancée – she’s so looking forward to our marriage. And since you’ve arrived, finally we’re seeing signs of the old, cheerful Grandma. No one wants her recovery to go backwards.’

  ‘You can’t tell me what to do.’ I scowled. ‘Don’t know why I bothered mentioning it. I should have just left you to find out the hard way.’

  ‘I mean it!’ he shouted and yanked open the front door, stepping onto the concrete path. ‘Say nothing to no one!’

  ‘Same to you about my wedding!’ I hissed and slammed the door.

  Chapter Nine

  Something old? My gold dress watch.

  New? Bought for the holiday, satin underwear.

  Borrowed? Mum left her drop pearl earrings in the villa.

  Something blue? My favourite eyeshadow.

  Going through practicalities in my head, I kneaded the scone dough on the kitchen unit, having already mixed the edible gold glitter into the fresh strawberry conserve I’d bought from the Dellis’. I would assemble the scones last thing, before travelling to Taxos town hall for the wedding ceremony. I yawned. It was Friday and I’d got up early to prepare for the Big Day. It was nothing, absolutely zilch, nada, to do with keeping busy – keeping any doubtful thoughts at bay. No… I simply owed it to Henrik to make sure everything would run like clockwork. And I only had a few hours to myself before he whisked me off on my special outing.

  At just after half past seven, I’d sat on the patio with a cup of rich coffee, watching the sun rise to the chorus of dawn birds. Streaks of Turkish delight pink ushered in the bright orange circle, as it rose, turning mysterious shadows into familiar friends. In practical mode, I’d tried to imagine the dress Henrik must have chosen. Maybe Mum had offered her opinion. I’d resisted ringing in case she accidentally let slip to Henrik that I knew.

  A quick casual wedding for their daughter would suit my parents. It would fit with their overloaded schedule. Indeed they’d got married one lunch time, in a registry office, with two marketing canvassers, off the street, as witnesses.

  I smiled at what my best friend Trudy would think, to a surprise wedding. She’d got married last year and planned everything herself, down to the colour of the evening buffet napkins. Knowing she’d appreciate it, I’d even surprised her with personalised napkin rings for the top table. Whereas I – with my previous minimalist ideas when thinking about the possibility of marrying Henrik – had never been interested in thinking about details such as bridesmaids’ shoes or buttonholes for guests. I didn’t feel that need for control, which was because I am an extremely laidback person, no doubt.

  I kneaded the dough harder. It had no link to the fact that I didn’t feel as passionately about my marriage to Henrik as I should. There. I’d said it (in my head at least). This whole wedding business did seem rather matter-of-fact. Was that okay? Shouldn’t I feel more excited or be upset that my friends from England wouldn’t get an invite? I picked up the rolling pin. Grand affairs with doves and calico teal marquee tents were only for my romance novels, right? Whereas as Henrik and I were a pragmatic, unsentimental couple. This must explain why there were no flutters of anticipation in my stomach.

  Since his meeting with Stavros on Tuesday, we’d played the perfect holidaymakers by eating out, visiting places of interest and lounging on the beach. Henrik dropped no clues about the weekend ahead and I had to admire his cool. Fortunately Niko kept away. I didn’t even see him yesterday when I went into Taxos to take Grandma a batch of her favourite honey and dried fig scones. The apricot and chocolate ones had already gone.

  ‘You need building up, Grandma,’ I’d said and breathed in her grape-like smelling perfume. ‘Although you look really well today…’ It was great to see her out of bed, cross-stitching in a chair.

  ‘Happy to oblige, my little peach.’ She took the plate that I’d carried upstairs. As she bit into the scone, I sat on her bed. ‘Mmm… So, you have fun on your holiday?’ she said, between mouthfuls. ‘See much of Niko and Leila?’

  Fortunately for her irritating grandson, I agreed that shedding doubts
on Leila’s intentions would only hurt Iris, so I just waffled about me and Henrik being busy, then mentioned our visit, on Wednesday, to the ruins of the Asklepion healing temple.

  ‘This Henrik sounds like a good man – you have lots in common?’

  ‘Yes.’ I ran my hand across the red and brown mosaic patterned bed quilt. ‘We are both ambitious and share the same life-goals.’

  She lifted her chin. ‘Like having children?’

  ‘Eventually.’

  She’d taken my hand and squeezed it tight. ‘Remember how you always said you’d never send your little ones to boarding school.’

  I’d nodded.

  ‘I am glad you’ve found a man who shares your principles. Is important, no?’ Grandma stared at me hard, as my cheeks flushed. I had the feeling she was finally getting back to being the savvy woman of old.

  ‘Um, yes. Of course,’ I’d said, with a cheerful tone. ‘And he’s loyal, caring…’ I went on to mention the surprise day out arranged for me today, hard as it was to keep Henrik’s intended marriage proposal secret. And perhaps it was just as well, as later today, after we’d had brunch and Henrik started up the engine of the Range Rover, he still hadn’t come clean and revealed the day’s plans.

  Could I have been wrong? What if he and Stavros had been talking about something else? I concentrated for a moment. No – it all made sense. Henrik combining a holiday with a wedding fitted perfectly with his spendthrift nature. However, to my surprise we didn’t head north towards Kos Town, but turned onto the highway leading south-west and a ball of stress inside me deflated for one second as if I’d imagined this whole proposal thing. I swallowed, admitting to myself that this probably meant I wasn’t ready to say “yes”.

  ‘Tyrionitsa?’ I mumbled as we turned off the main road, to head towards this village. Over the years I’d visited this quaint little place a few times. A similar size to Taxos, it had a stunning beach. Uncle Christos would take me and Niko there to collect shells – and what an array of beautiful colours and sizes. I found spotted cones, speckled periwinkles and curvy whelks, all washed up onto the finest sand. I grinned to myself. With string, Niko made me a bikini top, cheekily using a small pair of scallop shells. He got a handful of wet sea grass down his top, for that.