Faye smiled at Katerina going down the same detective path she had. ‘And that is all I know.’
‘Well, all I know is, if it is Christoforos Papakaliatis, I am going to be first in line for room service.’
‘Katerina, you have never worked room service.’
‘Then it is definitely time I start,’ Katerina said, picking up the cloth again and beginning to polish another glass. ‘Let me bring him the stuffed squid and see what he does with the creamy white sauce.’
‘Katerina!’
‘What?’
Faye shook her head at her staff member, smiling. She wasn’t sure she would know what to do with anyone’s creamy white sauce it had been so tragically long. Or, actually, in the case of her brief encounter with Makis, the rep for the ice cream company, tragically short…
‘Or, perhaps,’ Katerina continued, ‘we both just stand here and wait for the red-skinned English boy to either drown or run out of air from all the screaming.’
‘Or,’ Faye said, ‘we actually both get on with our jobs? The ones we are paid to do.’
‘Ugh, so boring,’ Katerina groaned. ‘And, just know, I will run away the first opportunity I get. Maybe with Christoforos or maybe I will be saved by a nice rich man with a yacht. If he comes a little closer to the shore and doesn’t ground it.’
So much for thinking Katerina was reliable. Faye looked up from the paperwork. ‘Katerina, you are a beautiful woman, a strong and intelligent, funny woman, and you have your whole life in front of you. You don’t need to be “saved” by a man. Any man.’
‘I know I do not need to be saved by a man,’ Katerina answered. ‘Perhaps I want to be. Or, you know… held hostage for a few days and spoon-fedtaramasalata.’
Faye shook her head. ‘Want my advice as a strong, independent woman?’
‘You are going to tell me anyway so OK.’
‘Hold yourself hostage,’ Faye said. ‘Shut your bedroom door, put away your phone, sit on that beautiful balcony you have, gaze out at the view of the olive grove and spoon-feed yourselftaramasalata.’
She sighed as her mind drifted back to that very first evening she had arrived back on the island as a fully-fledged divorcee. During the relationship collapse her trips to the island had gone from a couple of weeks here and there to longer periods, months at a time, where she began to feel more resident and less tourist. There were no holidaymaker transfer buses from the airport any more; there was a taxi or a hire car until she had eventually purchased the Panda. And the apartment Dimitria had found for her to rent from that first night was as basic as they came – one room with a single bed, small table and kitchenette, the tiniest of shower rooms – but it had a balcony overlooking a patch of land containing lemon trees and half-a-dozen stray cats dozing in the shade. And, as fragrant as the scent of those lemons were to wake up to, the main thing Faye had smelt was undeniable freedom.
‘OK,’ Katerina said after a few seconds had ticked by. ‘I hear you.’
‘Good.’
‘But you should also remember that sometimes it is fun to share things, even if you are a strong, independent woman. You know,taramasalata,sokoláta, bodily fluids…’
‘OK, I’m taking these spreadsheets back to the office,’ Faye said, gathering up her paperwork. ‘Let me know about the glasswasher, and no more rude staring at that boy in the pool.’ She headed out from behind the bar.
‘I am literally doing the lifeguard’s job for him! I should get his wages at the end of this week!’
Faye waved a hand in the air and walked back through the grounds towards the main building.
4
‘…of course Gregory knows how to swim! He has his twenty-five-metre badge and everything. I’m telling you it’s your pool that’s at fault here! And, as you are responsible for the pool, that means it’s your fault!’
Sitting in her office chair later that evening, Faye kept performing the sympathetic nod she had down to perfection. Another mastered hotelier skill. In fact, she did the move so regularly that when she’d last gone for a destressing massage, the masseuse had commented on the change in shape of her neck muscles… not in an approving way.
‘Mrs Mansell,’ Faye began softly, also making eye contact with Mr Mansell. ‘I appreciate that Gregory falling over in the water and – what was it we wrote on the form? Ah yes – “swallowing a not insignificant amount of chlorinated water” was a shocking incident for you all but… he’s fine.’ She smiled at Gregory, who was reddened from the sun and holding ice wrapped inside a tea-towel to his bloodied nose.
‘He has a cut on his leg and he had a nosebleed. The internet says that can be a sign of concussion so there’s a chance he also hit his head,’ the holidaymaker continued. ‘Isn’t that right, David?’
‘Well…’ Mr Mansell began, sounding less than enamoured to be asked to engage in this conversation.
‘Mrs Mansell,’ Faye said again, ‘I can assure you, the doctor who came to assess Gregory would have insisted he visit the medical centre, or even the main hospital on the island, if he thought there was any chance of concussion. Gregory was very thoroughly and carefully checked. You were there.’
‘But,’ Mrs Mansell carried on, ‘he’s a Greek doctor, isn’t he?’
