by Mandy Baggot
The large door in a patchwork of wood creaked open and the sight inside made Abby unable to decide where to look. It was like Aladdin’s cave, except there were no rich jewels or royal treasures. Instead there was sawdust, fine sand and woodchips on the ground and, suspended from the roof of beams and girders, were pieces of olive wood in varying states – raw chunks complete with bark, cleaned and honed sections and others that looked like they had been planed into shape and waxed. All were hanging like floating wooden panpipes, as beautiful as the finest adornments, strings of lights wound around the roof casting every piece in a warm glow that made the olive wood almost sparkle.
‘This is …’ Abby breathed. ‘Amazing.’
‘Yes,’ Theo answered. ‘It is.’
‘I’ve not seen anywhere like this before.’ She stepped forwards, wanting to reach up and touch the thick timber. The smell was extraordinary. It was like being in the very depths of a forest, which, she supposed, they were. She stepped further in, ducking her head a little under a low-hanging striped chunk.
‘Can I help you?’
The loud, low, Greek gravelly voice made Abby stop and she bumped her arm against a shelving unit. She reached out quickly, steadying an ornate ceramic pot. A tiny man had appeared, wearing a dirty brown leather apron over his trousers and a short-sleeved shirt. The booming voice didn’t seem to match his appearance.
‘Hello, Stamatis,’ Theo said, stepping forwards.
The man’s face lit up like there had been a power surge and he rushed towards Theo, arms wide, his impish frame clapping the taller man in a hug that was both firm and emotion-filled.
‘Theo! Where have you been? When did you arrive in Corfu? How long do you stay? Are you here to work?’
Abby watched Theo take hold of the old man’s hands, squeezing them with affection as the two regarded each other like long-lost, life-long friends.
‘I am here for the summer,’ Theo answered. ‘I hope.’
‘And you have brought someone,’ Stamatis said, looking to Abby.
‘Stamatis, this is Abby, she is a … someone I know from San Stefanos.’
‘Kalispera,’ Abby said.
‘Kalispera,’ Stamatis answered, leaning in quickly to kiss Abby on both cheeks. He then looked back to Theo and shook his head. ‘Your hair is too long. You begin to look like a girl.’
Abby couldn’t help but smile as Theo’s hands went to the bun tied at his nape. The older man’s opinion was obviously important to him.
‘Abby would like to buy something in olive wood.’
Stamatis laughed then. ‘Something?’ he queried. ‘You do not know what it is she would like to buy?’
‘A sign,’ Abby answered. ‘I just need to know how much it would be first.’ She swallowed, a little embarrassed by her lack of funds. ‘We have a number of things we need to get so we’re prioritising a little.’
‘A sign,’ Stamatis said. ‘For a house? With a name?’ He turned away, beginning to walk into the bowels of the workshop.
‘It’s for my mother’s business,’ Abby said, following quickly and fearing she may lose him. ‘It’s called Desperately Seeking … you know … if you charge by the letter …’ She really hoped he didn’t.
‘A Sea King?’ Stamatis queried, turning as he walked, his dark eyes observing her. ‘You talk of Theo?’
She had no idea what he meant. ‘Seeking,’ Abby repeated. ‘To look for … I don’t know the Greek for that.’
‘Always on the boats,’ Stamatis chuntered. ‘The King of the Sea like his father.’
Theo’s heart was thudding in his chest. He needed to turn this conversation into something else and quickly. ‘The place is full, Stamatis. Is business not so good?’
‘What?!’ Stamatis exclaimed, continuing his walk through the myriad of offcuts into a zone of metal and scrap akin to a breakers yard. ‘The place is full because business is good.’ He huffed and puffed. ‘When has business not been good?’
The old man’s idea of good business was very different to his father’s. Stamatis thought business was good if he could afford to eat at the end of the day. Anything over and above that was a bonus. But at least it had directed his attention away from talk about boats …
Finally, they came out of the souk-style passageways into an open space filled with machinery, but mainly the traditional kind. There was still nothing more hi-tech here than a couple of electric saws.
‘What shape?’ Stamatis asked, picking up dust-covered spectacles from a bench. ‘What size?’
‘Oh,’ Abby began. ‘I hadn’t really thought about it.’
‘You want this to be round? Square? Rectangle?’
‘I’m not sure … rectangle I suppose, to fit the name on … unless we have the two words one on top of each other.’
‘Stamatis,’ Theo said. ‘Show Abby some of the signs you have made.’
‘Come, come,’ Stamatis said, beckoning them on.
Theo watched Abby’s eyes taking in all the somewhat crazy adornments on the walls of the workshop – buttons, doorknobs, clips and moulds – some used in decoration, other items used as tools. She had the same wide-eyed combination of fascination and bewilderment that he had had on his first visit. But now, to him, it didn’t feel odd, it’s quirkiness felt warm and familiar.
‘One like this, I make for the hotel in St Spyridon,’ Stamatis said, picking up what Theo could see was a very heavy, long sign and passing it to Abby. He watched her steady her footing as she grappled with it. ‘Modern. With sharp, staccato lettering,’ Stamatis explained, reaching for something else. ‘This one I have just finished for a garage. With metal pieces.’ He went to pass that to Abby too but Theo stepped in, taking it from the old man.
‘They are so lovely,’ Abby stated. She looked like she was struggling to hold the hotel sign up.
‘This one is for a garden centre,’ Stamatis continued. Theo watched as he trailed his wrinkled fingers over the notches in the wood. There were delicate engravings of a butterfly, a ladybird and three-dimensional flowers.
‘This one is beautiful,’ Abby admitted, finally shifting the sign, putting it down and propping it up against a shelving unit.
‘You would like creatures?’ Stamatis inquired.
‘No … I don’t think so,’ Abby replied. ‘But I like the way the characters stand out. How much would it be for something like this?’
‘This size? With things that stand out?’ Stamatis queried.
Theo watched Abby nod. If he was to guess it would be in the region of three to four hundred euro. It wasn’t just about the materials, it was about the skill involved.
‘For you, a special price. Three hundred euro,’ Stamatis said.
Theo watched Abby’s expression and knew she was holding back on revealing her thoughts about the proposed figure. Obviously, her finances, or her mother’s, were not going to be able to stretch to olive wood extravagance. He made a show of checking his watch. ‘I’m sorry, Stamatis, we have to go. I have to get back to The Blue Vine.’
‘You work at a bar?’ the man queried.
‘Yes, and we should head back now.’
‘I make the sign for you?’ Stamatis queried, looking at Abby. ‘With Despair Sea King?’
Theo went to respond but Abby beat him to it.
‘Can I think about it?’ she asked. ‘Come back?’
‘Yes, yes, yes, this is no problem,’ Stamatis stated, putting the creature-embellished sign back on one of his work benches.
‘It was nice to see you, Stamatis,’ Theo said, watching the old man get back behind his favourite work bench and ready himself for carving.
‘I am always here, Theo,’ the old Greek answered. ‘If you want to not work in a bar.’
Stamatis’s words fell heavily on Theo’s conscience. He hadn’t been here for quite some time, even when he had visited Corfu. It wasn’t good form, to neglect someone who had been such a steadying influence when he had needed it. He swallowed, wanting to say s
omething, say he would come and see him again …
‘Thank you for showing me your lovely work,’ Abby said. ‘It really is beautiful.’
Stamatis waved a hand and then the cavernous workshop was filled with the heavy sound of a circular saw.
Twenty-two
San Stefanos Harbour
Three hundred euro was a lot of money, Abby thought as she drove back into the village. But Stamatis’s signage was classy, stylish and traditional – perfect for her vision of the new, improved Desperately Seeking office. Her vision. Was it really OK to make such important decisions for a business that wasn’t hers? Suddenly, slowly, it was seeping into her that whether this was a holiday or not, her life had changed substantially, completely and when she went back to the UK nothing was going to be the same. She needed to make sure that Corfu didn’t become a necessary prop that, once removed, would see her directionless.
But there was that gorgeous cerulean sea to her left, a soft wake rolling into the harbour from a passing ferry, small speedboats tethered to the pontoon, some tourists disembarking from their day on the water. It was another gorgeously hot day, the kind of day where you could almost smell the word ‘perfect’. A lightness filled Abby then, along with the knowledge that being in this beautiful, sunshine bubble was better than OK, even if it was temporary.
Suddenly ahead, Theo’s car was braking – fast – and Abby had to thump her foot down hard to emergency stop. Thrown forwards, she inhaled a sharp breath, relieved there was no crunch or bang, then, looking out she began to see the cause of the abrupt halt. Cows. Lots of them. And at the centre of the chaos was Melody.
Putting the handbrake on, then cutting the engine, Abby got out, the heat wrapping itself over her bare shoulders.
‘Wang off! Shoo! No! Not that way! Back up here! Towards your field, you know, home!’
‘Melody! What’s going on?’ Abby walked forwards, stopping at Theo’s car as he too got out.
‘That was a joke, right?’ Melody asked. Her face was crimson, hair all over the place and she was holding a rather spectacular diamante high-heeled shoe in one of her hands. ‘There’s bloody cows in the road! Traffic’s at a standstill, they’re eating the special-offer figs from the supermarket and they’ve pulled one of Mum’s flamingos out of the skip! You can imagine how well that’s gone down!’
‘How many are there?’ Theo asked, slipping on his sunglasses and surveying the scene ahead.
‘I haven’t had time to count them,’ Melody answered. ‘More than too many!’
‘Do we need to call the farmer?’ Abby asked. A rather large brown-speckled cow was striding toward them, a handful of serviettes hanging out of its mouth.
‘He will not be there,’ Theo answered. ‘He will be at his mother’s house in Episkepsi.’
‘What do we do then?’ Abby queried. The nearest she had got to cow-wrangling was pinning a rosette to a prize-winning one when The Travellers’ Rest had sponsored an event at the New Forest Show.
‘We need to get—’ Theo began.
‘Ela! Ela!’
It was Spyridoula, immaculately dressed as she was earlier, but carrying a plastic bucket she was shaking, bracelets vibrating. Calling out in Greek, she meandered down the road, waving to people like she was leading a carnival. The cows were rushing towards her, all other mischief abandoned.
‘Mila.’ Theo finished his sentence. ‘Apples.’
‘Cows like apples?’ Abby queried, watching with curiosity.
‘Like tourists like Greek dancing,’ Theo answered with a smile. He walked towards the Greek woman who was appearing to revel in being the cow whisperer.
Theo plucked two apples from the bucket his aunt was holding. ‘Is this the first time this year the cows have escaped?’
‘Honestly, Theo, you really think this is the first time?! Panos is a malaka. He does not fix the fence well enough. He always disappears when there is trouble. And no one else in this village remembers how to cure this problem! They stand around with their hands clapped to the side of their faces, mouths open like they are going to swallow whole families of mosquitoes. I do the same thing every time this happens. Get the apples! What they are all going to do when I go I do not know!’
‘Go?’ Theo queried. ‘Go where?’
‘We all will die one day.’
‘Not that speech again.’
‘It is true.’
‘It is premature.’
‘No one knows when there day will come, Theo.’
Spyridoula looked a little wistful as Theo poked an apple under the nose of a dark-brown cow who was currently enjoying nibbling one of the flags of San Stefanos Boats. She seemed to compose herself. ‘Do you remember when one of them ended up on the roof of George’s Taverna?’
He nodded, a smile forming. He did remember because he had spotted the cow himself. On the beach, aged ten, chasing his brother and sister with fuzzy algal balls, he had been distracted by something large and oddly placed in his line of vision. A big black-and-white cow was making its way across the flat roof of the taverna, completely unperturbed. Theo had raised the alarm, his father rushing into action to prevent the cow from causing damage and to stop it falling off the top of the building and harming itself. It had taken almost the whole village, some ropes and the lure of apples to get the cow safely back down again.
‘I still have no idea how it managed to squeeze its body up the iron stairs,’ Spyridoula said, shaking her head.
‘Can I help?’ Abby asked, approaching the pair.
‘Maybe behind us?’ Spyridoula suggested. ‘Make certain we have all of them on the move.’ She offered her bucket. ‘Take some apples.’
Abby dipped her hands into the bucket and removed three. ‘Apparently a cow ate one of Diana’s shoes.’
‘Oh,’ Spyridoula stated. ‘That is something we will never hear the end of.’ She reached out to the closest cow who looked like it was losing interest in her offerings and smacked it on the rump. ‘And, daughter-of-Jackie, Abby, please tell your mother that her valuation and quotation has been accepted by my brother. Please begin to market the villa. He will email signed copies of the documentation.’
‘Really!’ Abby exclaimed. ‘I didn’t know she had, that is … I mean, that’s brilliant. Thank you.’
Theo’s heart sank. This was not what he wanted to hear. His father was obviously determined to set in motion the sale of the family holiday home. Another reminder that his leaving home and the business was still not accepted by Dinis Pappas. He held his tongue, waiting for Abby to disappear, jogging down the street to ensure the cattle were following the apple trail.
‘Ela! This way!’ Spyridoula called to the cows.
‘I’m doing what he wanted,’ Theo said, dropping an apple to the ground.
‘What?’ Spyridoula queried.
‘My father,’ he continued. ‘I have a job at The Blue Vine, like he wanted, I am paying my way.’
‘I know,’ Spyridoula answered softly.
‘Then why is he still selling the house?’ He had tried to keep his voice even. To not let out the depth of emotion he was feeling.
‘Perhaps you should be the one to talk to him,’ Spyridoula suggested.
All at once, goose bumps broke out on his skin like the hot and humid air had suddenly turned cold. Talking hadn’t worked before. In fact, he hadn’t been allowed to talk. His father had issued the orders, he had reacted unfavourably and … here they were.
‘And maybe, instead, I will not bother to waste my breath.’
‘Theo—’
‘What?’ he snapped back. ‘He is going to sell the house because he wants to punish me? For an expert businessman, he makes some very stupid decisions.’ He threw an apple to the ground.
‘Theo—’ Spyridoula began again.
‘I have to get to work,’ Theo rushed out. ‘And Dinis, we all know that he will do whatever he wants, just like always.’
Seething, anger pulsing through him, he left his aunt a
nd the cows and headed towards the bar where at least he could take his frustrations out on the kegs in the store room.
‘Theo!’ Spyridoula called. ‘You cannot leave the car in the middle of the street!’
Twenty-three
The Dolan House
‘I can’t believe it.’
Jackie had said this sentence at least five times during the rest of the afternoon. The smile also hadn’t left her face, even when they were all coating the outside of the property in white emulsion that had almost blinded them because of the glare from the sun. Now they were at home, getting ready to go out to celebrate the new house on their books.
‘We know,’ Melody stated. ‘You said so. At least a hundred times. Anyone would think that we’d never had a customer before.’ She leaned over the sofa to look into the large mirror on the wall behind and apply some thickening mascara she had been crowing about since the lady had delivered her Avon products. Abby was still wondering why Avon products were a necessity when they were strapped for cash.
‘Well we haven’t had one for quite some time,’ Jackie reminded her. ‘And not one with a property valued in the millions.’ She sighed, contentedly. ‘And it was accepted so quickly.’ She slipped some earrings into her lobes and fought Melody for some space in the mirror. ‘I dropped the paperwork through Spyridoula’s door and almost within a couple of hours, just after that cow debacle, there was the email acceptance.’ She sighed. ‘I half-thought she would have got Aleko to quote too.’
‘Maybe she did,’ Melody responded. ‘Maybe we actually beat him to the prize.’
‘That would be lovely, wouldn’t it?’ Jackie said, smiling.
‘It would be a kick in the day spa,’ Melody replied.
Abby smiled from her seat near the window that overlooked the village road outside. She was enjoying watching her family getting ready. They had had a productive day working on Desperately Seeking’s external décor and the flyers-cum-invitations for the party were going to be ready to pick up the next day. Everything felt a little more stable than when she had first arrived. A pinch more control was back in her life.
