What was he doing here? Kostas had stopped the motorbike in a space on the beach under the trees. He had asked Faye to show him the locale and now he had taken her to the very spot he swore he wouldn’t come to. Yes, this village was less than five kilometres from Avlaki and his plans, far enough away and, yet, close enough to make a statement. Except his eyes were already straying to those trees at the end of the beach, knowing exactly what lay behind…
‘Could you… Sorry, I…’
He turned back to the bike. He had made Faye get off, parked, got off himself and looked to the trees. Faye was still there, hands around the helmet like she was struggling.
‘Signómi,’ he said, stepping up to her. He felt for the strap under her chin and pinched it to open. Then he pulled the helmet off her head. He smiled. She had a strand of her hair in her mouth and before he had even thought it through, he had swept it out and away. His finger brushed her lip and an unfamiliar sensation hit him. What the hell was that?
‘Thank you,’ Faye answered politely. ‘So, is this where you want to eat?’ She took a few steps towards the beach while he put the helmet on the bike.
‘You do not like it here? It is not your paradise of Avlaki.’
It wasn’t unlike Avlaki in many ways. The beach was white pebbles, the water crystal clear, but here it was like the place had been dropped amid the greenery, undiscoverable until you reached it from the steep incline of the road or arrived by boat.
‘Oh, no. I do like it here. Very much,’ Faye answered.
‘But?’
‘There’s no “but”,’ she said. Then: ‘Not really.’
‘So, tell me the “not really”.’ Why had he asked that? Because he needed her to trust him. If Faye trusted him then he believed she was the type of person to be able to make others trust him. He just needed the right people to be on board with his plans and his money could do the rest of the talking.
He watched her stance, her shoulders tight, her breathing a little unrelaxed. There was a story here.
‘It’s nothing,’ she answered quickly. ‘Something from years ago. An argument over money. Sunburn. Lots of accusations about not very much at all in the grand scheme of things.’
‘Family,’ he stated with confidence.
‘Yes.’
‘Always making you feel guilty for your choices, am I right?’
‘Well, I wasn’t going to say that exactly but?—’
‘Did you want to ordergyros? And someone suggested that really the grill room is the only place you should eat it?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘But that is true.’
‘OK, so who got sunburn?’
‘My daughter.’
‘You have a daughter. How old? She is here with you in Corfu?’
‘She’s nineteen and, no, she lives in England. And even at that age she’s as bad at putting suncream on now as she was back then.’ She turned around and faced him. ‘You ask a lot of questions.’
‘You say that like it is a bad thing.’
‘I haven’t worked out quite what your visit is for yet so I’m going to reserve judgement.’
He held his nerve. Was she suspicious of him? Perhaps he needed to up the charm a little. If he was honest, charming people didn’t come naturally to him. But he had learned over the years it was something that could get you a long way if deployed accurately.
‘Will you trust me to order good food at thetaverna?’ he asked, nudging her arm with his.
‘Absolutely not. It’s not just family who can try to influence your decisions and I make all my own choices now.’
There was more than determination in her tone; it sounded like there was fire in her belly. And that intrigued him. Why?
‘OK,’ he stated, beginning to walk towards thetavernaat the start of the beach. ‘So, I am in your hands. You order for us both.’
