My Big Fat Christmas Wedding

by Samantha Tonge

  He stood back and took my hands. ‘Pippa, no worry about me. The sea is like a strict aunt I have known all my life, who keeps me alert and rewards me if I work hard.’ He winked and pulled down his blue cap. ‘Ay, ay, ay, all the women in my life who give me a difficult time. You in particular are so demanding, always wanting this, wanting that – cuddles, butterfly kisses, holding hands… I cannot keep up.’

  Playfully, I punched his arm. ‘I’m being serious. Stefan got ill yesterday, didn’t he?’

  ‘Yes. Strange, as the weather has been milder than normal lately. We take pills with us today, for sickness. Even the toughest fishermen suffer now and again, regardless of the waves’ size.’ Niko gave a wry smile. ‘He swears a cigarette cures everything but even that didn’t help.’

  You see, that was really interesting. I thought once a strong sailor always – but clearly not. And other things – lots – about his job, fascinated me, like the purpose of all the different lines, bait and hooks. I didn’t need to talk finance to get turned on. Definitely not. So what was the problem of going to London? My old life had no real, concrete allure for me.

  ‘I still don’t think you should go out every day, at this time of year. It’d be freezing if you fell in,’ I said. ‘If only you’d let me dip into my savings and—’

  ‘Please,’ he said, voice suddenly remote. ‘We’ve discussed this before. No one pays my way. You feel the same, no? Wanting to run your scone business… How would you feel if I gave you money weekly, to top up any losses? Where would that leave your motivation and pride?’

  ‘But my life isn’t in danger kneading dough.’

  ‘No, but it is dangerous to rely on savings. I prefer to work hard as if my life depends on it.’

  ‘Your life might depend on it sooner than you thought, if there was a sudden storm or higher winds blew in.’

  He raised one eyebrow at me.

  ‘Fine,’ I muttered.

  Niko turned to go.

  ‘Leaving without a kiss? Don’t say we’ve already come to that.’

  He spun around and took my hands.

  ‘Sorry, Pippa. I appreciate your generosity but…I respect you so much. How industrious you must have worked to build those savings back in England. Now let me put all my energies into saving money – we are equals, no?’

  ‘Yes. And talking about England, there’s something I wanted to say, before you go. Last night…seeing Henrik…’ Here goes. No time like the present for mentioning the engagement party trip. But Niko held up his hand. An indescribable emotion swept over his face.

  ‘I know times are difficult here, compared to in flash London.’ He stood a little straighter. ‘Seeing Henrik made our situation seem even more wearing, no? Taxos isn’t like that sparkly city, but we…we make our own sparkles.’ Niko gave one of his lopsided smiles. ‘Things always come good with dedicated work and honest intentions. Things will get better, but don’t feel guilty about missing London. It is only natural. I understand.’

  Heat flooded my cheeks. I loved Niko not only for his exotic yumminess but his super-sensitive instincts. Oh, he didn’t know the value of pi, like geeky me, but he was so perceptive; considerate of people’s feelings; sharp as that winter island breeze when it came to reading people – a bit like Grandma but without the coffee sediment.

  So, I didn’t need to go to this party I decided, as I headed off to the butcher’s. Niko was right. I could make sparkles enough in Taxos. I mean, us going to London a couple of days before Christmas and the fair and a week before the wedding? What had I been thinking?

  Swinging my basket, I waved to Pandora as I passed the bakery and headed on to the butcher’s. One thing about the winter – I missed the tropical chirp of cicadas. Instead the shrieks of gulls accompanied my footsteps. Mmm. As I passed by, my eyes lingered on Pandora’s pastries. On the way back, a couple of those custard and syrup beauties might just find their way into my basket. Sophia was keeping an eye on the teashop whilst I popped out. It could be quiet on a Monday morning, but picked up as the afternoon progressed, especially when parents collected their children from school and gave in to requests for one of my latest dark chocolate and thick yogurt sandwich scones – think five centimetre high Oreo biscuits.

  I veered left at the top of the main street, and turned down a fork in the road, past the Vesteros’ hotel. Demetrios’ pottery was easy to spot in the distance as, painted aubergine, it was one of the few buildings in Taxos not coloured blue and white. The distinctive smell of raw meat reached my nostrils and I entered the butcher’s shop. The local school’s retired head teacher, Miss Valli, dressed in smart pink beret and anorak, bought lamb. She chatted briefly to Mrs Manos in Greek and then came towards me.

  ‘Hello, Pippa. Sorry if I kept you waiting. I’ve just been boring Mrs Manos with talk of my new little dog.’ Long silver earrings dangled either side of her cheeks.

  ‘I saw him the other day!’ I said. ‘What gorgeous coffee coloured fur.’

  ‘He is a handful!’ she said. ‘But has already stolen a piece of my heart – and I must have lost a couple of kilograms in weight with all the walking. My niece owned him but sadly she has developed an allergy to the fur.’

  Mrs Manos waved goodbye to Miss Valli, looked at me and her cheeks flushed as I entered the shop. She avoided my eye.

  ‘Ya sou, Pippa.’ she said, from behind the counter. ‘We have nice lean beef today.’

  I gazed around the clinical shop, with its whitewashed walls and silver units. Sophia said there always used to be a bowl of free boiled sweets for children – since Yanis moved in, that had gone.

  ‘No – thank you…’ I smiled. ‘We are using up meat out of the refrigerators at the moment – trying to make room in there for wedding food we are going to make early and freeze.’

  Mrs Manos wrung her hands, producing a squeaky noise as she wore plastic gloves. ‘I no blame you – with your wedding and…this Christmas fair, it will be a busy time of year for the Sotiropoulos family. You need to prepare ahead.’ Her gaze met mine. ‘Look, sorry, Pippa. Please forgive me for not being very supportive yesterday. In fact, I was rude. It is just with money the way it is…and then poor Mrs Vesteros’ dog…my emotions just burst out.’

  ‘No need to explain,’ I said softly. ‘These are stressful times for all of us and I know how fond you are of dogs.’ I handed over the basket. ‘I do hope these cheer you up, just a bit.’

  For a moment the deep lines in her forehead disappeared and she lifted the tea-towel. Her chin showed the slightest tremble.

  ‘You a kind girl. Why don’t I shut up shop for twenty minutes? We have one of these with a coffee?’

  ‘Really? Yes, of course – if you are sure.’

  Mrs Manos shrugged. ‘Mondays always slow – trade picks up towards the end of the week, when families decide they deserve a good meal at the weekend.’ She walked to the door and flipped the open sign around, so that it said closed. Then we made our way around the counter. I followed her into the back, through a white-tiled room with massive refrigerators and a big blood-stained knife on one of the units. We arrived in the house at the back. Eventually we ended up in a cosy, ramshackle kitchen, the sink full of plates and empty dog food cans on the units.

  ‘Sorry about the mess,’ said Mrs Manos and fetched two clean plates. ‘My daughter-in-law, Maria… She has been feeling a bit low and Yanis and I have to look after my grandson and the dogs as well as the shop and—’

  ‘Please don’t apologise,’ I said and put down the basket on the small pine kitchen table. ‘Family life and mess go hand in hand.’ I walked up to a photo on the wall by the back door. ‘What a beautiful wedding dress. You and Mr Manos look so happy.’

  ‘And young.’ She laughed.

  I hadn’t heard Mrs Manos laugh before and turned around. It took twenty years off her face. I glanced at the sink, took off my coat and rolled up my jumper’s sleeves. Around the kitchen stood pottery loggerhead turtles of all sizes, plus one on a fr
idge magnet.

  ‘I never knew you were such a fan,’ I said and nodded at a large turtle plant pot on the windowsill.

  Mrs Manos smiled. ‘Yanis has always loved animals but especially those turtles. He used to tour the island with his father, trying to get a glimpse. For a few years it became something of an obsession. Any souvenir in the shape of the caretta, Yanis had to have it. He did some very good sketches.’ She gave a wry smile. ‘Then he discovered girls.’

  I smiled back and turned on the tap. ‘I hope you don’t mind but please, let me wash up. Dipping my hands in hot suds will warm me up after that December stroll.’

  ‘No! It not so cold, Pippa! And you are my guest.’

  ‘Why don’t you make the coffee? I’ll be finished in a few minutes.’

  She glanced out of the window, which faced onto the garden with a big shed at the bottom of it – presumably where the stray dogs slept. One was sniffing around the garden, near a big green caravan where Yanis and his family no doubt slept. He crouched down and talked to another, tickling its head.

  I emptied the sink and ran it full of steaming water. Mrs Manos and I chatted about her grandson who had recently come top in science at school.

  ‘He has big dreams,’ she said, crooked teeth showing through a wide smile. ‘Like our learned forefathers of astronomy and mathematics, he wishes to discover something life-changing. But then we all have big hopes at school.’ She stared wistfully at her wedding photo.

  Had she been happy with her life in little Taxos? My mind jumped forwards, imagining me in forty years’ time, and a sense of unease washed across my chest. Forty years in a fishing village…what seemed romantic in the short term might not over a period of years.

  I picked up the dishcloth, but almost dropped a pan on the floor when the back door flew open and Yanis strode in. He wore a coat stained with mud and worn jeans. He caught sight of me washing up.

  ‘What’s going on?’ he said, brusquely. Mouth pursed, he looked from Mrs Manos to me.

  ‘Is nothing for you to worry about, dear Yanis.’ Mrs Manos cleared her throat. ‘Pippa simply brought us scones and—’

  ‘And now she cleans the crockery? We no charity. Thank you all the same, Pippa,’ he said and took the dishcloth from me. ‘Appreciate the thought, but we can manage. Is best you leave.’

  Goodness. Talk about an over-the-top reaction. Whilst admirable, sometimes Greek pride had a lot to answer for. I raised an eyebrow at Mrs Manos. Her lips downturned and she nodded.

  ‘Another time, Pippa,’ she mumbled. ‘Today’s not been good. We received an unexpected bill.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ I said, ignoring Yanis’ sour expression. ‘I’d love to look at the dogs. If you ever need a hand walking them, I’d be more than happy to—’

  ‘Bah. Please leave!’ said Yanis.

  You’ll never guess what then happened. He muttered something in Greek, grabbed my coat and practically frogmarched me through to the front shop. Yanis opened the door and firmly pushed me outside. I lost my balance and fell over, twisting my ankle. Was that a brief flash of concern on his face? I wouldn’t know as he disappeared and moments later appeared with the basket and set it roughly on the ground. It tipped over and scones scattered across the road. So much for Grandma’s prediction that my new ankle boots would bring me good luck. Their pristine slippery soles were no doubt to blame for my tumble.

  ‘The Sotiropoulos family think they above anyone else!’ he shouted, purple spots in his unshaven cheeks.

  ‘Yanis, stop!’ spluttered Mrs Manos, eyes wide, whilst I caught my breath.

  Yanis took some deep breaths and then – oh no. I gasped. He lunged at me. Crouching on the pavement, I instinctively raised an arm to protect my head. Had he gone mad?

  But Yanis never reached me, because – big mistake – he had no idea that six foot four of incandescent Dutch property developer was approaching.

  ‘Take that back,’ boomed Henrik. ‘The Sotiropoulos name clearly has ten times more integrity than yours!’ He swore loudly, strode past me and despite Mrs Manos’ pleas, grabbed Yanis by the collar.

  Chapter Five

  Dutchmen in shining armour (okay, Italian suits) certainly had their uses. With one arm, Henrik pinned Yanis against the shop’s doorframe, whilst stretching the other out behind him. I grabbed it and he pulled me up. Hopping, I reached Mrs Manos and did my best to tear the men apart. As much as I appreciated Henrik’s intervention, I could look after myself – with words, anyway.

  ‘Let go of him, Henrik,’ I said for the third time.

  With a snarl my ex backed off.

  ‘And if you’ve any sense, Yanis,’ I continued, ‘you’ll keep away from Taxos Taverna – otherwise I’ll have you charged with intent to cause grievous bodily harm.’

  The Greek’s brow furrowed as he rubbed his neck where Henrik had held the collar tight. ‘No understand.’

  ‘You were about to hit a woman – whilst she was on the ground,’ spat Henrik. ‘Coward!’

  ‘Not true!’ said Yanis and his fists curled. ‘Never would hit anyone. Was going to help Pippa up.’

  ‘Didn’t look like it to me,’ I said in a measured voice, heart racing, having glared at Henrik to keep quiet. ‘And I’ll be around tomorrow – if I can walk – to check on your mother. You’ve clearly got a temper. If you so much as…’

  Mrs Manos mouthed “sorry” at me and, eyes glistening, shut the door after Yanis had shook his head and stormed back inside.

  ‘I hope it’s okay to leave her here,’ I muttered.

  Breathing heavily, Henrik reached out and brushed strands of hair from my face. ‘Are you okay, Pips? He didn’t… I mean, before I got here…’ Henrik’s voice broke and his face went all squishy for a second. ‘Yanis hasn’t hurt you?’ He scoured every inch of my body.

  I almost teared up. Despite everything, Henrik clearly still cared.

  ‘Only my pride,’ I said and forced a laugh. ‘No one has ever thrown my scones on the floor before.’

  You’d think there was a lot more hurt than my pride, though, the way he insisted on carrying me home. Using his seafaring strength, Niko easily lifted me into his arms (usually to whisk me into the bedroom), whereas I was surprised executive Henrik could support my weight for so long. Gratefully I leant my head against his broad shoulders and breathed in the familiar citrus aftershave. It reminded me of so many things – dancing in clubs, strolling through Hyde Park, booking into a luxurious hotel with a king-size bed and… Urgh, not again! Enough with the nostalgia!

  We chatted about the recession – the homeless from all sections of Greek society, now on the streets of Kos Town, reliant on soup kitchens and handouts. Once a fortnight, Niko and I volunteered there and donated fish and a batch of scones. People down on their luck would relish every mouthful, be they former road sweepers, office workers or entrepreneurs. The face of poverty had never before been so diverse. Cue a fascinating discussion about Greece’s position in Europe. What Henrik lacked in poetry, he made up for with statistics and figures.

  As we approached Taxos Taverna, Niko arrived back from his morning’s sailing. Grandma pushed open the door to let us in. Henrik set me down at one of the mahogany tables and Sophia and Georgios appeared. Niko threw off his gloves and coat and rushed to my side and positioned a chair so that he could raise my foot onto it.

  ‘Pippa? Henrik? What is wrong?’ Niko knelt down by me and squeezed my hand. For some reason I started to shake.

  ‘Shock,’ muttered Grandma and disappeared.

  In an annoyingly trembly voice, I explained what had happened. Honestly, I was fine. Mrs Manos was the person to worry about. It was just… Henrik carrying me home had made me forget the anger emanating from Yanis’ inky black eyes. Now the memory hit me full pelt. What if my ex hadn’t turned up? Greece’s economic unrest had, in recent times, let to many outbursts of uncharacteristic violence. I forced a smile as Grandma returned with a large glass of Georgios’ finest herby Metaxa bra
ndy. Niko held it to my lips.

  ‘I’m all right,’ I mumbled and took the glass. ‘Just grateful Henrik saved the day.’

  Niko got to his feet and stretched out a hand, whilst muttering something to Sophia who promptly headed for the bar.

  ‘We owe you, Henrik,’ Niko said. ‘And the Sotiropoulos family always pays its debts. So, if you ever need our help…’ His eyes narrowed into bullets. ‘And now I must visit Yanis myself and warn him never to treat a Sotiropoulos like that again.’

  ‘You follow me, son,’ said Georgios, bushy eyebrows knitted together, plump jaw clenched.

  ‘Niko, leave it, mate – and you, Georgios. Yanis is in no mood to talk.’ Henrik shrugged. ‘He’s not worth it and you’ll only upset his mother.’

  Niko looked at his dad, then Henrik, and gave a sigh. Sophia returned with the bottle of Metaxa and filled glasses for everyone.

  ‘To our brave friend,’ said Georgios and raised his glass, before knocking back the brandy. Then he stretched out his arms. A bemused Henrik duly leant down for a hug.

  ‘You defend the Sotiropoulos name,’ said Georgios, ‘so always welcome in our house.’

  ‘And more importantly,’ added Sophia, ‘you kept dearest Pippitsa from harm.’

  ‘You could have got hurt, feisty Pippa,’ said Grandma, cinnamon eyes on fire, and shook a finger.

  ‘Me feisty?’ I said.

  Everyone gave wry smiles. In my position we all knew Grandma would have said and done a lot more.

  Georgios headed into the kitchen and prepared a mini feast. My ankle felt infinitely better after steaming lamb and feta stuffed peppers, followed by lemon cake with frozen yogurt ice cream. In fact I hardly noticed the dull ache whilst sipping a coffee afterwards. Georgios had left us, to wash up, whilst Sophia and Grandma served in the teashop.