Desperately Seeking Summer

by Mandy Baggot

  ‘And the valuation?’ Theo asked. ‘How much do you think this property is worth?’

  She paused before answering. She had had a figure in her mind from the moment they had finished the tour of the inside. Now, gazing out over the cove, drinking in the total beauty of the surroundings, there was absolutely no doubt in her mind. This was a property not unlike a villa Ionian Dreams was marketing for 2.5 million euro.

  ‘I’m afraid that’s something I can only share with Spyridoula and Dinis Pappas,’ she answered. ‘But, if Desperately Seeking gets the instruction I’ll be setting up details on our website.’ She smiled. ‘And the whole village will know before the first bite of baklava.’

  ‘Very good,’ he replied.

  ‘So, I think I have everything I need for now.’ She slipped her sheet of jottings into her handbag and adjusted the strap on her arm. ‘I’ll head back to the office and prepare the valuation and you can get back to your sun lounger.’ The flush was rising up her neck within milliseconds.

  ‘I have … wood to chop,’ he reminded her.

  ‘Of course,’ she answered, taking steps towards the path that led to the gate as a vision of him, naked, wielding a chopper came to the fore. ‘Wood.’

  ‘Yassas, Abby,’ Theo said, waving a hand.

  ‘Yassas,’ she called back, breaking into a jog.

  Nineteen

  Desperately Seeking

  ‘Saturday!’ Melody exclaimed. ‘This Saturday?! Are you out of your wanging mind?’

  Abby smiled confidently as she plucked an olive from the small dish on the table outside the agency. It was a smile just like the one she had the time she had convinced Kathy to bring forward a tea dance at The Travellers’ Rest to coincide with Remembrance Day. It had been a stroke of genius that had seen bar takings doubled and their almost out-of-date jam for the scones all used up. She was hitting her sister and their mum with the slightly nerve-racking news first and then she was going to tell them about the opportunity at Villa Pappas and turn those frowns upside down.

  ‘Oh, Abby.’ Jackie whipped off her glasses. ‘But there’s so much to do. The food and the drinks and the lookalike and—’

  ‘Well, I think the sooner we re-launch the business—’Abby took a breath, ‘—brighter, whiter, fresher, the more quickly you can stop clients heading to Ionian Dreams for free spas.’ She smiled. ‘Plus, we need to get invitations out before Alex, or whatever his name is, can come up with a similar plan.’

  ‘Aleko,’ Jackie said. ‘His name’s Aleko.’

  ‘Yeah but, Abs, Saturday?!’

  ‘It’s settled,’ Abby said. ‘I’ve already invited someone so we can’t change the date.’ A memory of Theo and that honed physique – all of it – came back to mind.

  ‘Who have you invited?’ Melody asked. ‘You’ve only been here five minutes.’

  ‘Well,’ Abby said, whipping her checklist out of her handbag with flourish. ‘That’s my other bit of news.’ Did she want to sit down? Or keep standing? She was buzzing with nervous, excited energy she hadn’t felt for a while. Not since the redundancy and the dumping anyway.

  ‘You are getting married!’ Jackie exclaimed, hands going in the air, raising up from her chair like someone had put a firework underneath it. ‘You’ve been to Corfu Town to arrange the paperwork and Darrell’s on his way and—’

  ‘No,’ Abby said quickly. ‘Goodness, sorry, I … it is exciting but not a wedding.’ Now she felt like the real news wasn’t going to be anywhere good enough, such was her mum’s thrill that there still might be nuptials in the mix.

  ‘God, Mum, weddings aren’t the life blood of everything,’ Melody replied with a tut. ‘She’s been like this since Prince Harry said he was tying the knot. And she watches way too much Say Yes to the Dress.’

  Abby placed her checklist onto the table, smoothing the creases and letting the satisfaction move through her like a sweet wave of euphoria.

  ‘What’s this?’ Jackie asked, glasses back on, eyes on the paperwork.

  ‘It’s a client. Well, a potential client, a property,’ Abby said. ‘That I went to see this morning.’

  ‘You went to see a property?’ Melody leant over the table. ‘You’re going to live on Corfu?! Well, it had better have been one on our books … Wait. Who showed it to you?’

  It was time to stop the confusion and spell things out.

  ‘Villa Pappas,’ Jackie read from the sheet.

  ‘Yes,’ Abby said. ‘I went to see it today. I took photos, filled out the list, added all the details and I’m hoping you’re going to be able to do a formal proposal for it.’

  ‘What’s this here?’ Jackie asked, pointing at the very top of the page. ‘These numbers.’

  ‘That’s what I’ve valued it at,’ Abby said proudly.

  ‘Wanging hell! Does that say two point five million euro?’ Melody exclaimed.

  ‘I might not have drawn the euro sign quite right,’ Abby answered.

  ‘Mum! Two point five million euro! Is this for real?’ Melody asked. ‘Two per cent commission of that is like … a lot.’

  ‘Oh, Abby,’ Jackie gasped, mouth so wide a flying beetle could have dropped in, landed and built a nest.

  This was it. This was her moment. The moment when her mum was going to express excitement, delight, unabashed pride at what she had achieved. It was going to be the start of an upturn for Desperately Seeking. So she couldn’t stop Darrell from falling for the charms of a protein-shake enhanced younger model or hold on to her almost-management position, but she had done this. And it was two point five million euros’ worth of opportunity.

  ‘You can’t have valued it right,’ Jackie reached out and patted Abby’s arm.

  What? She didn’t know what to say.

  ‘Did you do the Light and Airy Test?’ Melody asked.

  ‘The what?’ Abby inquired.

  ‘Stand in the middle of every room and assess the natural light.’

  ‘It’s a beautiful, contemporary yet traditional villa,’ Abby stated.

  ‘Ah,’ Melody said nodding. ‘You see, can things really be contemporary and traditional?’

  ‘Darling, I know you’re trying to help but—’ Jackie began.

  ‘No!’ Abby exclaimed. ‘Stop! Please, just stop!’

  She hadn’t meant to shout so loudly. Her eyes went to the road. A group of tourists had stopped still, a little blond-haired boy, mid-ice cream-lick, staring at her. Cicadas stopped chirping. She swallowed, turning back to her mum and sister.

  ‘Sorry. I know I don’t know as much as you do about properties overseas – or properties at all, really – but I have done some research and I know, well, I am almost confident, that this house is really worth two point five million euro.’ She took a breath, trying to re-install her earlier confidence. ‘At least.’

  There suddenly seemed to be a lull, like someone had pressed pause on the conversation and Abby’s gaze went from her mum to her sister and back again in quick succession, waiting for something to happen.

  Melody moved first. Snatching up the checklist from the table, eyes roving over Abby’s notes, she began reading aloud.

  ‘Three bedrooms, all with built-in wardrobes and sea views. Marble floors. Kitchen with fridge freezer, dishwasher, instant boiling water tap … Mum! An instant boiling water tap!’

  ‘Let me see!’

  Abby smiled, watching her family finally getting as excited as they should be.

  ‘Did you take photos?’ Jackie asked, managing to prise the notes from Melody’s fingers.

  ‘Almost fifty,’ Abby admitted.

  ‘Let me see them first!’ Melody exclaimed, almost vaulting the table to reach her.

  Twenty

  Acharavi Beachfront

  Spyridoula had texted Theo. A little too late.

  Someone is coming to value the house. Be nice. Be dressed. Spyri x

  He had been nice. One out of two wasn’t bad. But the fact that his father was doing this still wasn’t sit
ting well. Was Dinis really going to go through with it? Or was it all bravado? A case of playing chicken, seeing which one of them would give in first? Did Theo need this familiar sanctuary in Corfu enough to save it by returning to the business he had run away from? And would Dinis sell the property and their memories just to prove a point?

  His shift at The Blue Vine had started an hour ago but when he had arrived Hera had been flapping around declaring the world was going to end. Three pallets of Fanta Lemon had been wrongly delivered and Theo had been sent to retrieve them from one of the tavernas on the beach front of the main town in the north of the island. And, as was customary and polite, he had accepted a coffee before heading back.

  Sitting on a green-painted wooden chair at the edge of the white pebble beach, Theo took in the view ahead of him. Turquoise waves rolled in and out, shushing onto the stones and creating a fresh, crunch of sound. It really did soothe even his troubled soul, which was ironic, given that the sea was partially responsible for the way he was feeling this summer.

  And then something came into his vision: a car, but not one moving at a normal pace, this one was creeping along the beach road. It was small and silver and he couldn’t see that it had a driver. He got to his feet, taking off his sunglasses and tentatively stepping towards it.

  Abby’s calves were on fire. This was probably why Darrell had chosen Amber over her. She was betting if Amber’s car broke down she would be able to break into a jog while pushing it, not be sweating like a jungle celebrity about to be shoved into a space helmet contraption and have spiders put in their hair. She felt like she had spiders in her hair now, but she knew it was just perspiration from the raging orb in the sky that was being particularly unhelpful in her latest dilemma.

  She pushed harder, letting out a groan akin to a strongman attempting to pull a truck and then collapsed onto the door she was holding, her body folding through the open window as she gasped for air. What was she doing? How far did she think she could push this vehicle? How long before someone came to her aid?

  ‘You have a problem?’ a male voice asked.

  Multiple problems were the answer. Armpits that were practically dripping, a core wound tighter than a particularly awkward jar lid, and stones in her sandals. She was beginning to wish she had hired that bike!

  ‘The car,’ she panted. ‘It won’t start.’ As she lifted her face up she saw who had asked her the question and as the realisation dawned she bumped her head on the top of the door window. Quickly moving her body out of the space she coughed, brushing dust from her dress and standing straight.

  ‘Abby,’ he said, shaking his head.

  ‘Theo,’ she replied. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘It seems like I am about to try to fix a car,’ he answered, striding towards her.

  Abby swallowed, watching him confidently move up to the vehicle in his beautiful jeans and uniform polo shirt. Yes, he had clothes on this time …

  ‘What happened to it?’ Theo asked, standing by the bonnet.

  ‘I parked outside the printers on the main street, ordered my flyers, came back out, turned the key and it started fine.’ She let out a sigh. ‘Then I turned down Beach Road Three because I wanted to see if the little olive wood carving shop was still there, and halfway down the engine cut out.’ She swallowed. ‘What do you think is wrong with it?’

  ‘I do not know,’ Theo answered. ‘You will have to pull the lever inside the car for me to open it up and look.’

  ‘Oh!’ Abby exclaimed. ‘Sorry.’ She ducked her head back into the vehicle and ferreted around beneath the glove box. Locating the lever, she pulled and there was the sound of a light metallic release. Theo pulled up the bonnet and disappeared behind the sheet of steel.

  ‘Do you know about cars?’ Abby asked, moving to stand next to him.

  ‘I know a little about mechanics,’ he admitted. ‘More boats than cars.’

  ‘So,’ Abby said. ‘Boats, bars and … trimming bushes.’

  She wanted the ground to open up and for her to be sucked into the Upside Down and devoured quickly by the Demogorgon. Her cheeks began to flame like she had a fever. Why had she said that? Trimming bushes!

  ‘I can see nothing obvious,’ Theo remarked. ‘It has fuel, yes?’

  ‘Well,’ Abby began. ‘I did ask Mum about that and she said the gauge is faulty. She said it’s been saying it’s empty for the last month so …’ As she said the words her awareness began to kick in. ‘There’s no fuel, is there. Why didn’t I just put some in it?’ She wanted to kick out at something. She levelled a sandal at the front tyre, her toes taking the whole of the impact.

  ‘Ow!’ she exclaimed.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Theo asked, standing up straight and sweeping some stray strands of his hair back from his face. She’d decided the man bun was hot. It wasn’t quite Jason Momoa, more Tyler from Neighbours, but it was a pleasing style she had never really thought about before. And she didn’t know why she was thinking it now. Men were off the page for her. Men let you down. Men kissed assistants they shouldn’t be kissing over baked goods.

  She nodded, toes throbbing. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, my car is just there,’ Theo stated, pointing to a large flatbed truck bearing The Blue Vine company logo. ‘I can take you to the petrol station then bring you back and fill up the car.’

  ‘Can you?’ Abby asked. ‘Are you sure it won’t be any trouble? I can always call a taxi.’

  ‘Leon will be working in his family’s shop this afternoon,’ Theo said.

  ‘Is he really the only taxi driver in San Stefanos?’

  Theo smiled. ‘You do not remember how Greece is?’

  ‘I do.’ Abby blew out a still-flustered breath, fanning her flaming face with her hand. ‘In that case, a lift to the petrol station would be great.’

  ‘No problem,’ Theo replied, slamming the bonnet back down and brushing the dust from his hands as he came over to her. ‘And the olive wood shop you were looking for. It is no longer there on Beach Road Three.’ He wet his lips. ‘But there is another not far from here. I can show you if you like.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Abby said. ‘That would be great.’ She crossed her fingers behind her back and prayed olive wood signage wasn’t going to be as expensive as her sister had made out.

  Twenty-one

  The Olive Way Workshop, Near Pelekito

  After a visit to the petrol station the car had taken a good few turns of the ignition to restart and it was obvious that Abby was feeling nervous about its ability to continue to run. She was following while Theo drove in the direction of the workshop in the woods he had once spent a whole summer in.

  Pulling off the main road he followed an earth and gravel track as it wound around groves of olives. Bent and withered old trees sat alongside new growth, the black ‘catching’ nets at the base of each trunk. Goats grazed at the side of the road, an old lady dressed all in black, head covered, waved her stick in greeting as he passed. And then the building came into sight. It hadn’t changed a bit.

  The outside looked as rustic as the trees surrounding it. A mishmash of strips of wood and corrugated iron all layered up like a collection of scrap someone had abandoned. He smiled as he parked on the scrub outside and wondered just what Abby was going to make of it.

  The scent of woodland in the searing heat hit him and he was transported back to being a teenager, always looking for trouble. That’s how he had ended up here, at Stamatis’s workshop. A dare to break-in, to steal something, had ended with Theo being caught between a lathe and a rather long, slim and slightly pointed spindle. The owner’s fury had been more than obvious. Theo had pathetically begged for leniency back then, so his father didn’t find out, and Stamatis had given him a job. Those first few days hand-sanding the wood had been so hot and so hard he had almost wanted to risk the wrath of his father rather than continue enduring it. But then he’d watched Stamatis make a bread board, a relatively simple, rectangular block of wood, yet planed and waxed
and cared for so delicately, the older Greek man could have been handling a newborn baby. Stamatis had caught him studying his technique and he’d nodded and smiled, seeming to know just what Theo was thinking. Tuition had followed, and Theo had spent the whole summer ankle-deep in wood shavings every afternoon, enjoying the freedom of expression, suffering the old man’s terrible coffee and learning that rebelling wasn’t constructive to anyone, especially himself.

  Getting out of the car, he walked up to the property, drinking it in in more detail. Were there any changes other than dilapidation? Or was it like time had stopped from the moment he had last left? Perhaps the fence towards the back was different …

  He turned as he heard a car door slam and there was Abby on the rough grassland, looking a little overheated. Her hair was tousled and she was shooing away mosquitos with her hands as she walked towards him.

  ‘This doesn’t look like a shop,’ she remarked as she reached him and surveyed the higgledy-piggledy mess.

  Theo smiled. ‘It is the best olive wood shop in this part of the island.’ He reached out and touched her shoulder. ‘Come.’

  The contact – his fingertips on her bare shoulder – made Abby catch her breath. It was like someone had opened a jar of strong pickled onions and made her inhale. She was flooded by an overwhelming urge to indulge but, all at the same time, run away from the intoxicating suggestion of male contact. No matter how minute the touch had been.

  ‘How do you know about this place?’ Abby asked, words forcing recovery as she stepped behind him. ‘You said you don’t live here.’

  ‘I … have spent a number of summers on Corfu,’ he replied.

  ‘Working as a gardener or a barman?’

  ‘For some of the time,’ he answered, pushing at the door. ‘Come, please, I know the owner. He will be able to give you a good price on whatever it is you would like to buy.’