He sighed and she could sense, somehow, there was so much going on in his mind, behind that celebrity, professional athlete persona she had seen him turn on earlier. It wasn’t her place but also…
‘So,’ she began. ‘Your impromptu event went well.’
‘Yeah?’
‘I saw it all over the Enimerosi news Instagram account.’
‘Really?’ He nodded. ‘Well, the kids turned up at the door of my suite.’ He held a hand up. ‘I don’t want a complaint form. And, well, Stathis, he took care of the rest.’
‘Good PR,’ Faye said, nodding. ‘But I am curious what you need good PR for.’
‘Doesn’t everyone like good PR? I am sure the hotel looked beautiful in the photos.’
‘I don’t know,’ Faye said, musing. ‘People who were really insistent on privacy when they first arrived don’t often then organise a public event where half the north of the island turn up faster than they escape the church after the Easter candles have been lit.’
‘Sometimes we have to adapt the plan though, no?’ he asked her.
‘So there’s a plan now?’
He smiled. ‘Don’t you have a plan, Faye? Perhaps one that keeps getting changed by other people? Like your friends? Your family?’ He indicated Saffron, perfecting another starfish float in the pool. ‘That is the daughter whose entrance into the world gave you that sexy scar on your belly.’
She wasn’t going to gush over that comment. ‘Yes,’ she answered stiffly. ‘Family. The thing you told me you don’t have.’
‘What?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘I get it now. You’re a casual kind of guy. No need to tell any of your hook-ups a truth.’
‘What?’ he said again. ‘Are we talking a different language?’
‘You told me you don’t have any family on Corfu.’
‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘I did. Because I don’t.’
‘So, what, you don’t count youryiayiain Kerasia?’
She watched him take a heavy breath. ‘Well, obviously, I had family here before they died.’
Faye swallowed, uncertain what was coming next. ‘What?’
‘My grandmother. She did live in Kerasia when she was alive.’ His long fingers toyed with the edge of the table.
Had Dimitria got this wrong? What should Faye say next?
‘Oh,’ she managed, hesitant. And then: ‘It’s just, Dimitria, she was talking the other day, about your grandmother, and I’m pretty sure… she’s still alive.’
She watched the colour drain out of Kostas’s skin like the ghost of his grandmother had floated across the garden and said ‘boo’ in his face. He looked as shocked as she had seen anyone look shocked before. And then he stood, abruptly, knocking the table with his hip.
‘Kosta, I…’ She stood too. ‘Maybe I got it wrong. Dimitria listens to all kinds of gossip from all kinds of less than reliable sources and?—’
‘And there’s only one way to find out, right?’
‘Ask Dimitria?’
‘Ochi. No.’ He turned to leave.
‘Wait, where are you going?’
‘I’m going to Kerasia. To find out if my grandmother is as arisen as Jesus at Easter.’
