‘Well, I don’t know about that,’ Matthew said. ‘I don’t really know much about handbags.’
‘Oh, don’t worry,’ Saffron said. ‘I do.’
Faye smiled as Saffron began to launch into an information dump about all the different kinds of bags like she was writing copy for Vinted sellers. This was going to be OK. It might even work out to be more than OK.
66
THE TREEHOUSE, KERASIA
‘Do you need the paper to read from?’ Kyriaki asked, licking cake from her fingers as she finished the slice on the plate she was holding. It was the following day and Kostas had got up early, filled with adrenaline and in none of the positive ways. Today things would change and he suspected, by the end of it, things would most likely change for the worse. But you had to hit rock bottom before you could begin to grow in a better way, right?
‘I do not know,’ Kostas answered. ‘I almost know everything by heart but holding the paper, it gives me something to do.’
‘But it also shows exactly how much you are shaking,’ Kyriaki said.
‘Great!’ Kostas said, thumping down into a little chair and throwing his notes to the small table.
‘Konstantino,’ Kyriaki said. ‘Why do you act like a child having a tantrum? It is good to have nerves. It is a big thing you are doing, going into a room full of people who will all immediately look at you with dark dangerous eyes and hatred in their hearts.’
‘Is that supposed to help my nerves or make things worse?’ he asked, sighing. ‘I should have got Stathis to write it before he left.’
Stathis had flown back to Athens late last night after they had had a hastily arranged meeting in Corfu Town. His advisor now had work to do in the Greek capital, shaping Kostas’s next venture and researching how it all might work in practice.
‘You do not need anyone else to write it,’ Kyriaki told him. ‘These words, they must come from you. If they don’t, if they are not authentic, then no one will trust what you tell them, remember?’
‘I don’t know if I deserve to have them trusting what I tell them,’ Kostas said.
‘And that is a defeatist attitude that has no place in this moment of epiphany.’ She paused, then: ‘Have you spoken to Faye?’
He shook his head. ‘No.’
‘Good,’ Kyriaki said. ‘Because she must hear this first along with everyone else. Then she will know that you are taking this on the chin, that you are being truthful in every regard.’
He nodded. ‘Honesty.’
‘Here, have some cake,’ Kyriaki said, leaning forward on her stool and passing him a plate.
‘Did you make this?’ Kostas asked her.
‘Are you crazy? I can cook everything except cakes! And I have no need. My friend, Makis, makes one every single week, leaves it in the basket at the bottom and it comes up. It is a perfect arrangement.’
He bit into the sponge and looked over at his grandmother. ‘Will you come?’
‘What?’
‘To the meeting tonight, at the hotel, will you come?’
‘Oh, Konstantino, I do not know if that is the right thing to do.’
‘Listen, I understand, I’m not asking you to come to support me. I would like you to be there standing or sitting with everyone else who wants to save the land and the eco-systems. I’m not asking you to come to make excuses for what I tried to do or make excuses for my father… I just… it would mean a lot to me if you were there.’
‘I do not know, Konstantino. When I go out, within perhaps thirty minutes I am annoyed by anyone and everyone.’
‘But remember what you told me about solitude not being the same as isolation?’
‘I still agree with my words. I am still choosing solitude.’
‘And you are also isolating.’
