‘Really? When you are checking me out… in, I mean… checking me in.’
She looked at him then and smiled. ‘The code to get into the suite has been sent to you on Viber I believe. Go up the steps here or, if you want to take the buggy further you will need to go?—’
‘Fruit basket?’ he asked. He got out of the cart now, moved to stand next to her.
‘What?’ Her phone stopped ringing.
‘Is there a fruit basket in my suite? You know, a warm Corfiot welcome package.’
‘You did not request a fruit basket.’
‘It does not come as standard?’
Her phone started to ring again. ‘I apologise, but as this is the medical centre, I need to answer.’
‘OK,’ Kostas said with a nod. ‘But in an hour or so, once I have showered, I want you to bring me a fruit basket.’
Oh, now Faye was getting all the flavour of a VIP ego, and she could feel that frustration to snap out a response rising in her. But Faye was a professional. She smiled. ‘I will arrange for a fruit basket, Mr Petsas.’ She really needed to answer this call.
‘That’s not what I asked for,’ he stated. ‘I said I want you to bring it to me.’
The phone stopped ringing again. She really hoped the call was just clearing things up about the pool incident with Gregory and not an emergency.
‘Well, the fruit basket deliveries aren’t really my job.’
‘Tonight, I would like that to change.Parakaló.’
The ‘please’ in Greek at the end was not said as a request, but as a demand and, as Faye’s phone started to erupt again, she made this quick. ‘Fine. In an hour I will do my best to ensure you have every Corfiot fruit your heart desires.’
He put his hands on his hips and made direct eye contact with her. ‘Every Corfiot fruit my heart desires? That’s some promise.’
She smiled. ‘Fisika. Of course.’
6
THE PENTHOUSE SUITE, HOTEL MARGARITÁRI, AVLAKI
It wasn’t the most impressive place Kostas had ever stayed, but he had to admit the suite was nice. The décor was neutral coloured, the walls were bright white and it was spotlessly clean. But there were other elements he didn’t much care for. Cushions on the bed – the bohemian style that was trying to be modern yet also a nostalgic throwback – and a macrame wall-hanging that was screaming cosy chic. He had taken that off the wall, gathered the cushions and put them inside the spacious wardrobe so he didn’t have to look at them. He never found so-called home comforts comforting. He liked simple. Still, once he got his ambitious plan for the area underway there would be no décor to think about apart from one he had employed someone to create from his vision. It would take time but that was good. It was as much about taking time as it was about the end game. The career he’d strived for had been cut short and he was still suffering from that, physically and mentally. This plan was the counterweight to that. He needed this project, to make things right, to get justice for his father, and he needed to make a bold statement with it. He slammed his hand down on the table he was sitting at on the terrace, ending a mosquito. There was a view of the sea, dark skies now, stars twinkling, a few spots of light from thetavernason the beach. Corfu. Kerkyra. He was going to make the island he despised dance to his tune…
The doorbell rang and he jumped, thoughts scattering in his brain. Ah, the fruit basket. He checked his watch. It was late. Leaving the terrace, he moved through the suite to the door and opened it. There was no one there. Then his eyes dropped to the tiled floor. A basket, but there was no fruit. He picked it up, parcels wrapped in paper. They smelled like meat.Gyros?
He hurried along the walkway towards the steps. There was a retreating figure in the shadows. ‘Hey! Wait!’
The figure stopped and then turned around. A woman. A mountain of curly dark hair on her head. Not Mrs Lawson.
‘You are not Christoforos Papakaliatis,’ the woman stated.
‘You are not Mrs Lawson.’
‘No, I am Katerina.’ Suddenly the woman’s eyes widened and Kostas knew what was coming. ‘And you… you are Konstantinos Petsas!’
He held up the basket. ‘And this is not the fruit I asked for.’
‘Oh my God!’ Katerina continued, a hand at each side of her face now. ‘You are our basketball legend! The hero of Corfu! My brother, he had a jersey with your name across the back, it is too small for him now but?—’
The hero of Corfu. Yes, he knew that’s what these people thought he was, claiming him like some god-like warrior for their island because he was born here, lived the first years of his life here. He despised it – shrank from it.
He pushed the basket back to Katerina. ‘Take this back to Mrs Lawson and tell her I want the fruit basket she promised me.’
