Faye felt her shoulder muscles now, pulsing at the attitude of the customer. ‘Yes, Dr Grammenos is Greek.’ She said no more, waited to see if her complainant was going to add anything else.
‘Yes, so, it’s not like England, is it?’ Mrs Mansell said.
Faye whipped open her desk drawer and took out another sheaf of forms, placing them on the desk. ‘OK, so you would like to make a complaint about Dr Grammenos. We can do that too but it’s a different form; oh, and this form for his medical centre and then this green one for the hotel insurance and then?—’
‘We don’t want to make a complaint about the doctor,’ Mr Mansell said fast.
‘Don’t we?’ Mrs Mansell said, turning to look at her husband.
‘No,’ Mr Mansell continued. ‘Gregory is fine. We can let Faye look into the tiles in the pool and… leave it at that.’
‘Does that mean we can go and get ice cream now?’ Gregory asked, eyes lighting up.
‘Are you feeling better, Gregory?’ Faye asked the boy. She wasn’t unsympathetic about his stumble in the water and he had been far less dramatic about everything than his parents.
He nodded and handed over the soggy tea towel that began to drip all over the forms on her desk. She took it from him and disposed of it, temporarily, in the waste bin.
‘Right then,’ Mr Mansell said, getting to his feet.
‘Oh, one more thing,’ Faye said as Mrs Mansell thankfully followed her husband’s lead. ‘The ice cream here on Corfu…’
‘Yes?’ Mrs Mansell asked, pausing by the office door.
‘Like our doctors, it is also made in Greece.’ Faye smiled at Gregory. ‘Just so you’re aware.’
She really needed to bite her tongue. Which was exactly what she’d told Katerina. But it had been a long, hot day, she was tired and a little dehydrated and she was desperate to get under a cooling shower and into bed. At half-past nine…
Mrs Mansell made no further comment and with the squeaking of flip-flops and sliders on the tiled floor, the family finally departed. And straightaway, Faye moved. Picking up her bag and the waste bin containing the wet tea towel, she headed out of her office through the patio door and into the grounds. A short walk along the path, away from the guest accommodation, and there was her base. A small ground-floor apartment with views of the gardens. It was a step up from that first place she stayed and it was all that she needed for now – quiet, close to work, a stone’s throw away from the beach. But, before she took the last turn, something at the perimeter of the hotel caught her eye. Someone was there by the closed gate, lingering.
She froze, dipped into the greenery for a second, observing. It was a man and he had his hands on the gate like he was going to… Wait, what? He was climbing it, right now! This was not the time to wait in the bushes and watch, it was time to act!
‘Éla! Stamáta aftó!’
Having yelled for the man to stop what he was doing, Faye rushed across the grass, then over the concrete driveway, bag over her shoulder, waste bin in her arms. But the man wasn’t stopping. His head was visible and then, in one fast move, all of him sprung up onto the top and rested there, sitting, long legs dangling, gaze on her as she arrived beneath him. Dark hair. Dark beard.
‘Ti?What?’ he asked, his tone suggesting she was the one annoying him.
‘What the hell are you doing breaking into my hotel?’ Faye exploded.
‘Your hotel?’ he asked like that was the most important question in this moment. ‘You are the owner?’
‘Well, no, but I am the manager and you haven’t answered my question. Why are you breaking into the hotel?’
He laughed then. ‘I am not breaking into anything.’ He dropped down from the top of the gate, landing at her feet as effortlessly as if he did this all the time. He was tall. Very tall. And broad.
She brandished the bin. ‘Stay back.’
‘I am not here to steal your’ – he looked around, then into the mid-distance over her shoulder – ‘plants or parasols. The gate, it is broken.’
Faye scoffed. ‘It’s not.’
‘I can assure you, it is.’
‘And I can assure you, it really is not.’
To prove her point, she pressed the button on the wall which she shouldn’t be having to activate as the gate shouldn’t be closed yet but… God, he was right, she was pressing the button and nothing was happening. A fat lizard wriggled up the stone a little higher than her hand and she wondered if that was the culprit somehow.
‘Bloody hell!’
