Desperately Seeking Summer

by Mandy Baggot

  Now Abby remembered where she had heard the name Aleko before. During her mother’s phone conversation when she’d arrived. It sounded like he was the main competition for Desperately Seeking’s business.

  ‘I’m sure they will all have a lovely time,’ Jackie said, taking hold of Abby’s arm again. ‘But if you’ll excuse us, we have a client meeting to get to.’

  ‘What’s Ionian Dreams?’ Abby asked, paying Aleko her full attention.

  ‘What is Ionian Dreams?’ Aleko asked, taking a deep-breathing-in-yoga kind of inhale. ‘Well, beautiful lady, it is an experience everyone is craving, even if they do not know it yet.’

  ‘Is it one of those places men go to experience a release like no other?’ Abby queried in her most innocent of tones.

  Aleko looked horrified and one of the bags fell out of his hands. A ‘no’ came out a little strangled, then, ‘It is an estate agency selling the dream of home ownership on Corfu.’

  ‘Oh,’ Abby said, clapping her hands together. ‘Just like Desperately Seeking!’

  ‘No,’ Aleko stated firmly. ‘Nothing about my business is like that … that … pink mess over there.’

  ‘I beg your pardon!’ Jackie exclaimed. ‘Did you just call my business a mess? I’ll have you know that I was nominated for an award last year.’

  ‘Tsk!’ Aleko sneered. ‘It can’t have been for customer service. So many people they come to me after they have been blinded by your colour and say you are late to appointments and you take them up into the mountains with a car that makes more noises than the aeroplane they arrive in.’

  ‘I’ve never had any complaints about my car, and anyway, if they don’t like it, they can get to the properties under their own steam.’

  Abby watched the verbal battle going on and saw her mother’s usual confident stance begin to fold. Just what was going on here?

  ‘And that is where you are going wrong. Everything, Miss Jackie must be about the customer. With you it is all about the sale and never mind the rest.’ He put on a smug face. ‘And that is why everyone comes to me in the end.’

  ‘None of that is true!’ Jackie exclaimed. She was definitely close to tears, and Abby wasn’t going to stand by and let that happen. She had, after all, first-hand and very recent experience of street-sobbing and she wasn’t about to have it turned into a thing for their family.

  ‘It was so nice to meet you, Mr Ionian Dreams,’ Abby said, holding her hand out to Aleko. ‘But, as my mum just said, we’re meeting a very important client in just a few minutes and we want to make that very special first impression.’ She shook his hand then took hold of Jackie’s arm.

  ‘What important client?’ Aleko asked as Abby led the way down to the waterfront.

  ‘I’m not at liberty to say,’ Abby called from over her shoulder. ‘We had to sign a non-disclosure agreement.’

  She could feel her mother’s tension as she held onto her arm and she waited, until she was sure Aleko was out of range, before she said anything.

  ‘You OK, Mum?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Jackie sniffed. ‘He’s nothing I can’t handle.’

  ‘Where is this Ionian Dreams? Here in San Stefanos?’

  Jackie nodded. ‘He hasn’t got the beachfront like me, he’s back there.’ She hitched her head. ‘Around the corner near the quad bike place. But he likes his freebies and so do the customers.’

  ‘Well,’ Abby began. ‘In my experience giving out things for free usually means the real product is substandard. And people aren’t fooled by cheap gimmicks these days.’ She swallowed. Although the time she gave a complimentary teacake with every pot of coffee between three and five on Friday afternoons had increased bums on seats during the restaurant’s quiet time at The Travellers’ Rest.

  ‘Diana would do anything for a free spa day and she has a lot of friends.’

  Abby stopped walking and eyed her mum. ‘But business is going well, isn’t it? I mean, Melody is out doing this viewing tonight and you’ve got things booked in every day and more houses to value, yes?’

  Jackie beamed. ‘Of course we have. There’s no stopping us. And the pink branding has certainly attracted a lot of attention.’

  She didn’t dare say anything about the taxi driver’s comment about the villagers’ opinion on it. She scrutinised her mum’s expression. Jackie seemed genuine. She would tell her if there was a problem. She wasn’t the type to keep things to herself. Apart from the testing the water with the dating …

  ‘Come on,’ Jackie said, bright demeanour restored. ‘Let’s go and fill ourselves with Greek sausage.’

  ‘OK.’ Abby’s stomach growling indicated it was time to have something to eat.

  ‘So, who shall we pretend our fabulous new client is?’ Jackie asked, grinning. ‘Tom Hanks? He’s a lover of Greece.’

  ‘Mum, we don’t have to pretend it’s anyone,’ Abby reminded her. And then she sighed. ‘And you didn’t have to pretend I’m engaged to Darrell either.’ Was this it? The moment she told her mum the hard truth that actually they weren’t attached at all any more? She opened her mouth …

  ‘Well, it’s only a matter of time, isn’t it?’ Jackie remarked, waving a hand in the air. ‘And I like to daydream about it sometimes. Have you thought about having the wedding here? In Corfu? It doesn’t have to be a big, fat, Greek Mamma Mia-style thing with coordinated dance routines. It can just be very simple and very stylish and …’

  ‘Not pink?’ Abby suggested as the moment disappeared.

  Jackie laughed. ‘I don’t know what everyone seems to have against pink! It’s the colour of love and … lobster and taramasalata and …’

  ‘Sunburn,’ Abby offered.

  ‘Now you’re just being mean. And it will cost you. You know the rules. Be nice or it’s something to eat you haven’t tried before, just like with your veggies when you were babies.’

  Abby smiled. Believe it or not, it had been how she had fallen in love with pastry.

  ‘I’m absolutely unafraid of trying new things these days,’ Abby said as they began to walk again. ‘And we’ll start with a carafe of wine.’

  Eleven

  The Blue Vine

  Theo tried desperately to stifle the yawn that was creeping up from the back of his jaw ready to invade his whole face. He hadn’t had nearly enough sleep today and now Hera, the owner and manager of The Blue Vine, was running through every drink they offered on the menu. He wasn’t even sure why. They were all engraved on an olive wood board behind the bar – beers, wines and a whole range of cocktails. He liked the bar. It was a mix of traditional and new with its beamed ceiling and stone walls alongside bright white walls, up-lights and candles in jam jars providing the ambient glow. Subtle, cool mood music was playing over the sound system.

  ‘I am sorry, Theo, am I boring you in some way?’

  He clamped his teeth together, praying the yawn didn’t override the strength of his commitment to containing it. He shook his head before he trusted himself to open his mouth. ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘Then you can tell me how you would make an Old Fashioned.’

  He swallowed. He had worked a bar before. His uncle had a bar. He had even made cocktails before – been good at it – but right now his brain was still in a terribly low gear.

  ‘Old Fashioned,’ he repeated. Quickly he scanned the bar for anything that looked familiar, trying to recall the recipe. He had worked a few bars in Lefkada but there hadn’t been a call for cocktails where he had been staying. It was bourbon, definitely, and orange, but what else …

  He picked up a bottle of bourbon with as much confidence as he could muster and then let his eyes wander to the entrance. Yes! Two new customers were arriving, about to sit at a table by the bay. He put down the bottle, and grabbed a pad and pen.

  ‘Hera, we have customers,’ he said, hastening out from behind the bar. ‘I will serve them.’

  ‘Theo, no, that is what I do … Theo!’

  He pretended he couldn�
��t hear and raced from the building before she could do anything to stop him. When he got back behind the bar he would google the top one hundred cocktail recipes … except Hera had everyone’s devices locked in the safe for the duration of the shift. He swallowed as he approached the tables across the road. It was probably a good thing. Googling and researching sounded like he cared about this job, cared about pleasing his aunt and his father. He didn’t care.

  ‘Hello,’ he said. ‘Good evening. Welcome to The Blue Vine.’

  The two women had settled at the only vacant table for two close to the water. Around them, diners were already tucking into meals and carafes of wine, other Blue Vine employees bringing out meals and refreshing drinks.

  ‘Good evening,’ the older of the two women greeted. ‘You must be new.’

  ‘No,’ Theo answered. ‘My name is Theo.’

  The woman laughed. ‘Well then, it’s lovely to meet you, Theo. I’m Jackie and this is my daughter, Abby.’

  He turned his attention to the older woman’s companion as she looked up from perusing the menu. She had dark brown hair and a blue dress with a V-shaped neckline. It was subtly captivating, and he found his eyes wandering to her bare legs.

  ‘We’ll have a carafe of white wine, please,’ the younger woman ordered. ‘The local wine.’

  ‘Very good,’ Theo said, noting this down. ‘Anything else?

  ‘We’re going to have a look at the menus,’ the older woman said.

  ‘No problem,’ Theo answered.

  Theo was about to leave when he watched the girl remove her mobile from her bag. This was his chance.

  ‘Excuse me, I know this is a little rude, but may I use your phone?’

  She looked up, studying him as if he might be someone who would snatch, grab and sell the item to the nearest highest bidder.

  ‘Use my phone?’ she repeated.

  He nodded. ‘Yes, not to make a call. You see, this is my first evening here and …’ What to say? Be honest? For the first time in months? ‘I really need to know how to make an Old Fashioned or I might not have this job tomorrow.’

  Abby smiled at him, then slipped her phone back into her handbag. He shouldn’t have asked. Now there would probably be a customer complaint to go with his lack of knowledge in the cocktail area. Not that he cared about this job! What was wrong with him?

  ‘Bourbon,’ Abby answered. ‘Angoustura bitters, orange bitters and sugar, poured over ice.’

  He stared at her. Each word had trickled from her full lips like they were ingredients to the sweetest, most alluring cocktail. And now her hazelnut eyes were fixed on him he couldn’t look away.

  ‘Abby Dolan! How come you know how to make cocktails?’ Jackie exclaimed excitedly.

  The spell was broken as Abby turned her attention back to her mother. ‘I worked, I mean, I work at the bar sometimes at The Travellers’ Rest. We had … have very discerning clients.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Theo said. ‘You have saved my life.’

  Abby replied and waved a hand. ‘It’s just a cocktail.’

  ‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘But you have not met my new boss.’

  His eyes connected with hers again and it was causing a rather inappropriate colouring of her cheeks despite her best attempts at quelling the action with thoughts of icebergs, walk-in freezers and Slush Puppies. He was a gorgeous, archetypal Adonis, all olive complexion and dark hair swept back off his face, rolled into a tiny knot at the base of his head. She’d never been keen on the ‘man bun’ but this waiter could be the poster boy for the style. But then something else happened, as her gaze drifted to his strong nose and thick, brooding lips, guilt threatened to submerge her as if she was somehow still one half of the her-and-Darrell whole. Ridiculous but, in this moment, real.

  ‘One carafe of white wine,’ Theo stated. ‘I will be back.’

  Despite herself she watched him leave, dark trousers hugging lean thighs and a rather muscular butt. Melody would definitely have approved.

  ‘Well, he was rather lovely,’ Jackie remarked, a light sigh leaving her lips, fingers going to the small arrangement of daisies in the centre of the table.

  ‘I don’t remember Corfu having much call for Old Fashioned cocktails last time I was here,’ Abby said.

  ‘Oh, you’d be surprised,’ Jackie answered. ‘There’s more English here than ever now. So.’ She plucked up a menu. ‘What shall we have to eat?’

  Abby knew exactly what she was going to have because she had been craving it from the moment she had booked the flight to Corfu. A starter of lemon-infused octopus followed by spanakopita. Spinach, feta cheese, onions, garlic and herbs, all wrapped up in fine filo pastry. She could almost taste it now, being washed down by that local wine.

  ‘I think I need to do a Diana and have the sausage,’ Jackie breathed. ‘See if they really are as divine as she makes out.’

  ‘Why don’t you have what you actually want?’ Abby asked. ‘I’m worried this Diana is turning into some sort of anti-role model.’

  ‘She’s nothing of the sort,’ Jackie pounced. She sniffed. ‘She just has good clothes and … a great figure for her age. Like Debbie McGee. And … everyone likes her.’

  Abby looked a little more closely at her mother. She was looking every one of her fifty-five years right now and her hair needed colouring. But it was nothing that couldn’t be fixed. Perhaps that was the reason Fate had stepped in and planted this almost-enforced holiday on Abby, to help her mum pick herself up out of the middle-aged doldrums.

  ‘Since when did everyone not like you?’ Abby asked.

  ‘I’m not interesting like Diana,’ Jackie continued. ‘I don’t have tales of “the time I spent in Malaysia” or “the night I went dancing with Anthony Hopkins”.’

  ‘I’m not sure dancing with Hannibal Lecter is something to brag about,’ Abby attempted to joke. ‘Good job it wasn’t dinner, or she might not have survived to tell the story.’

  ‘The first eligible bachelor that sails into the village and she’s there like a praying mantis before anyone else gets a look in.’

  ‘And is that what you really want, Mum?’ Abby asked. ‘A look-in with eligible bachelors?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Jackie sighed. ‘Maybe. Not that I’ve had much luck so far.’

  ‘Well, stories about Singapore and Welsh actors will only win favour for so long,’ Abby reassured her. ‘Maybe I should sign up with Ionian Dreams, get us a free spa day and a bit of pampering.’ She really couldn’t just tell her mum her hair, nails and skin needed a desperate refresh. It wasn’t like working up to telling Stanley about his odour issues. This was her mum. Someone who usually took such pride in her appearance …

  ‘Why would you sign up with Ionian Dreams?’ Jackie snapped.

  ‘To get a free spa day,’ Abby replied.

  ‘And there’s the proof that it’s enough to tempt people away from Desperately Seeking!’ Jackie looked positively panicked. ‘No matter what I do!’

  ‘Mum, I’m obviously not going to look at properties I just thought …’ Abby started.

  ‘I need to do something more, don’t I?’ Jackie rushed out. ‘I need to do more than I’m doing. Something bigger.’

  ‘Well …’

  ‘I need to … put on a party. Yes! That’s what I’ll do! I’ll put on a party for all my existing clients and invite potentials.’

  Abby watched her mum come alive, eyes brightening, shoulders loosening.

  ‘I’ll get out the fliers and sign-up sheets. We can have it outside the offices, get a gazebo to keep the heat off, and do the food ourselves to keep costs down. Oh, Abby, thank you!’

  She wasn’t sure quite what she had done, but flashes of her mum looking more excited than she had since she had arrived on Corfu could only be a good thing.

  ‘Here we are … one carafe of white wine.’

  The waiter was back, depositing a carafe and two large glasses on the table. Abby gazed out over the shoreline and drank in the exquisite
view. Softly the sea caressed the fine stones and sand, easing its way forward and back in a motion so delicate it would be easy to just drift off and forget everything.

  ‘Abby.’

  Her name being spoken in that heavy, sultry Greek accent had her turning her head.

  ‘Ya sena … for you,’ the waiter said. He held out a thick ornate glass tumbler, its rim speckled with sugar and orange, a short black straw inside. The liquid was orange too and cubes of ice floated. ‘An Old Fashioned.’

  ‘Oh,’ Abby said. ‘You didn’t need to do that.’

  ‘Parakalo … please. It is my pleasure.’

  She reached out, taking the glass, and their fingers connected for the briefest of seconds. Just long enough for it to cause a tornado-style whirling in her stomach. It was uninvited and unwelcome and totally down to a distinct lack of pastry in her life. Hopefully this would be remedied soon. Quickly she steadied the glass with her other hand and put the drink to the table. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Parakalo,’ he responded. ‘Now, what can I get you to eat?’

  Twelve

  Theo wasn’t sure he had ever worked this hard before. The Blue Vine was busy and manual labour wasn’t ordinarily his remit. He had made cocktails, served food, cleared tables, swept floors and now, while balancing plates up his entire forearm, his aunt had arrived with half a dozen other women from the village.

  ‘Look!’ Spyridoula announced, hands in the air like she was praising Greek gods, beaded bracelets knocking together. ‘My nephew is working!’

  There were enraptured noises from the other women as if they hadn’t picked up on any of Spyridoula’s sarcasm. Theo smiled. ‘Good evening, ladies. Would you like a table for dinner or just some drinks?’

  ‘We can find our own way,’ Spyridoula replied. ‘You go to the kitchen with your dirty dishes then come back to take our order.’

  Theo smiled then rushed towards the main building to dispose of the crockery. There, he was thankful to see a friendly face.