At least her husband would be on his own inside the restaurant. Grace let out the breath she’d been holding and wondered if she’d make a good deep-sea diver.
ChapterSeven
The clock clearly said twenty past one. Sofia was late, as usual. Her friend would fit in well with the Greek mentality. Several women in their friendship group had taken to lying to Sofia and telling her the time for any rendezvous was half an hour earlier than it really was, in the hope of her being vaguely punctual, but Grace never bothered; she knew it was hopeless. At work, Sofia had a team of people around her making sure she was at the right place at the right time, but her social life was a different matter.
Grace mostly took it in her stride, otherwise she’d be permanently irritated with her friend. After a lifetime of timetables and lesson plans, she was hardwired to be there on the dot, or usually ten minutes before.
Seated at a table for two on the rooftop terrace of the best hotel on the island, Grace had ordered herself a coffee and waited, which was no hardship. It was a superior coffee, served in a bone china cup, with a gorgeous mini pastry on the side, a disc with a sort of chocolate and hazelnut soft centre.
Grace gazed out at the view as she sipped her coffee and nibbled her delicious morsel. She’d read in a guidebook that the hotel was one of a handful converted from the grand houses built by the shipping magnates of the island’s main town almost two hundred years ago.
The houses were arranged over many floors, with stunning views over the bay, but their massive proportions and crippling upkeep meant that very few were still private residences, and some had sadly fallen into disrepair. Elena and Giannis owned one, though, as she’d discovered when she’d checked out the address Elena had given her, and Grace was desperate to have a good look inside when she went for her chat.
History, especially when it dealt with old buildings and the people who’d lived in them, had always interested her, and she’d never been able to mooch around the interiors as much as she’d wanted to when they were on family holidays. There’d always been someone moaning about wanting an ice-cream, needing the loo or asking to go swimming.
Even when it had just been her and Phil, he was usually more interested in keeping up with the football and cricket scores on his phone than finding out about the inhabitants of a historic house. She’d have to draw up a list of places to visit on the island and really indulge herself with long, lazy visits, examining every inch and getting a real sense of how the owners had lived.
The terrace was filling up, and more and more of the metal chairs with their green and blue striped cushions and matching parasols were occupied. It was still early for the Greeks to have lunch– three in the afternoon was more their speed– and Grace could tell from the voices and the clothes that most of those eating were tourists. The diners were discreetly screened from each other by large plants in pots that matched the aged stone floor.
Sofia eventually appeared from behind a large piece of greenery, followed by a waiter with a couple of menus and an adoring look.
Grace embraced her friend warmly and they exchanged cheek kisses.
‘Darling, you’re here already!’
‘Incredible, isn’t it? Where else would you expect me to be at’—Grace broke off to look at her phone—‘one-thirty?’
Sofia took the menus off the young man, who seemed glued to the spot. Grace had observed the Sofia effect many times before.
‘Don’t be grumpy. I just had to have a proper shower and do my hair after the rather scary plane journey.’
‘Of course, dear. Can’t have you out in public looking anything other than exquisite.’
Sofia stuck out her tongue and Grace grinned.
‘I’m just thrilled you’ve arrived.’
It really was lovely to see her friend, whose freshly washed dark locks tumbled over her shoulders like a shampoo advert.
They’d bonded in their first year at university in Scotland, both freezing cold and far from home. Sofia’s worried Spanish mother had sent regular care packages including lots of pairs of cashmere socks, and jars of special chilli-infused hot chocolate, which Sofia had been happy to share.
With Grace being tall and blonde and Sofia brunette and tiny, they’d been dubbed The Light and The Dark by a college wag, and the name had stuck for the duration. At sixty-two, Sofia still turned heads, as a few of the men on the terrace could testify.
‘So…’ Her friend leant in towards her. ‘How’s it going? Met any hot guys yet?’
‘You know that’s not what I’m here for. It’s mainly work, work, work so far.’
‘Boring.’
‘But necessary.’
‘Anyone you work with that’s cute?’
‘Well, I have to admit that Thanassis, the Director of Studies, is good-looking… But it’s against the rules to have work relationships.’
‘Bah! Rules are made to be broken. Married? Single?’
‘We really haven’t got that far. We’ve been focusing on the lessons, incredibly.’
