Katerina frowned. ‘You do not likegyros? I am sure you were in an advertisement for them once. You bounced it around like a ball and the basket was an animation of a big Greek mouth.’
‘Did you hear what I said?’ He was angry and it was spilling out of him. He needed to keep that in check. It was better to pretend to be everybody’s friend rather than make enemies at this critical first stage.
‘Yes,’ Katerina answered. ‘But, Faye, she has gone to bed and?—’
Faye. That was Mrs Lawson’s first name.
‘Endaksi. OK. So, I will take this back and you will tell me where I can find her so I can make my complaint.’
‘Well… I don’t know if?—’
‘And if you bring me your brother’s too-small jersey I will sign it for him.’
He knew Katerina’s demeanour would change instantly at that offer, and it did.
‘OK,’ she answered. ‘I suppose you are our very important guest and?—’
‘Kala. Good.’
* * *
It was humid tonight and the rotating pedestal fan was noisily pushing around the air in a bid to cool down Faye’s apartment. She’d finished no more than thirty minutes ago – a whole host of online reporting she’d had to do and an awkward phone call with the manager of one of the taxi companies. But now she was here in the peace, cooler, skin enriched with olive oil and pistachio moisturiser, lounged out in nothing more than a thin cotton vest top that skirted her upper thighs – blissful release from the smart attire of hotel manager.
And then there was a knock on the door. She jolted out of her five minutes of calm and sat up thinking maybe she had imagined the interruption. And then there was a second thump.
Barefooted, she made her way across the tiles to the door. ‘Nai?’
‘Ypiresía domatíou.’
Room service? Who was bringing her room service? She cautiously opened the door. The first thing she saw was a basket she recognised.
‘Kalispéra, Mrs Lawson,’ Kostas greeted, the basket swinging from one of his large hands. ‘Now, I am Greek, I know how muchgyrosis an important dietary supplement, but the last time I checked, nothing about it constituted fruit.’
What was he doing at her front door? How did he even know where her front door was? It had to be down to Katerina. So eager to help when Faye had suggested how surprised she would be to see who the VIP was and alluding toMaestro in Blue.
‘My apologies, Mr Petsas. At the late hour of your request there was nowhere to achieve a package of fine fruits and, thinking on my feet, assuming that hunger management was the ultimate aim, I opted for this option.’
He didn’t immediately reply and she watched his gaze drift from her eyes down her body to where the vest top stopped and beyond. What was he doing looking at her like that? No doubt wondering how inappropriate the clothing was for a hotel manager. But she was a hotel manager off duty and in her own home…
He cleared his throat. ‘Have you eaten today?’
The question threw her. ‘I… had half a packet of Lays at lunchtime.’ Why had she confessed to that?
‘Then the answer is no.Éla. We will share these.’ He turned away and made like he was going to retreat down the path. Was she meant to follow him?
‘Really, there’s no need to—’ Her protest was cut off.
‘Mrs Lawson, today you have threatened me with a waste bin containing a snake that you made disappear and now you have failed to provide me with a request for fruit. I can only assume that this is all down to your own lack of energy and that needs to be remedied. And I am a VIP guest so you have to do what I ask.Éla.’ This time he beckoned with his free hand.
She looked to her bare feet. Was she really going to go with him? To where?
But for some reason, she was already grabbing her phone and moving towards her flip-flops.
7
Kostas was watching her eat and he couldn’t deny it was doing something to him. What exactly he didn’t know, but something. Usually he ate on dates and his date pretended to eat and took photographs of all the food she didn’t eat to post to Instagram. He spent the whole of those evenings making sure his arm or his leg or even one of his fingernails never made it into any of the pictures. What he was feeling now was maybe just the exact opposite to those times.
He had led them over to an outside table in the grounds, right next to the sea, no one else around given the lateness of the hour, and now he was watching her devour the stuffed pita like it was so divine, God had made it himself. She ate as if food was one of the greatest creations and, apparently a woman in her late thirties, maybe early forties, eating tomatoes, red onion, chips and pork wrapped in bread and slathered with garlicky creamytzatzikiwas a huge fascination for him tonight…
