Under a Greek Spell Page 22

  ‘Yes, definitely, which was something Richard just didn’t understand. Anyway, don’t let me start on a rant about Richard! Now, hand that bill over. I said I’d get the next meal after you paid for lunch yesterday.’

  ‘Oh yes, did you manage to sort out your card?’

  I roll my eyes. ‘Eventually. It took me ten minutes to convince the fraud department that I’d had a last-minute change of plans from the Caribbean to Mykonos. I saw the funny side in the end.’

  ‘Well, I hope you see the funny side of this bill – they have charged for that rose!’

  ‘No way! They’ve never added it to the bill?’

  Stefanos is laughing. ‘I am afraid they have, but I am paying for the rose and the drinks at the piano bar.’

  ‘Okay, sounds like a deal. Let’s party, the drinks are on Stefanos!’

  We meander over to the bar, which is tucked away in the narrow streets. It doesn’t appear very big from the outside but, once we’re inside, it stretches on from one room to another. It’s busy, noisy and dark, but there are some colourful lights on the tables to brighten things up a bit. We make our way past the bar, the pianist and the singer, who’s belting out ‘American Pie’. We finally locate Martin and Alexis, who wave us over.

  ‘You found us, then?’ Martin shouts. ‘There’s a couple of seats here.’

  ‘Oh, thanks,’ I shout back. ‘Flipping heck, it’s a bit lively.’

  A waiter brings Alexis and Martin’s drinks and passes us a menu each to study.

  ‘We’ve ordered a Slow Comfortable Screw,’ Martin shouts.

  ‘Really? Well, I’ll try one too. If you can’t beat them, join them – that’s my motto!’

  ‘And I will have This is the Night,’ Stefanos whispers in my ear.

  I feel like I’m about to pass out again as his lips touch my ear and my heart flutters. I can’t say I’ve ever heard of this particular cocktail so I have a sneaky peep at the menu. Sure enough, it’s there.

  ‘You already decide what you order next?’ Stefanos asks.

  ‘I was thinking about a Screaming Orgasm – I’ve not had one of those for years,’ I reply, trying to keep a straight face.

  ‘I sure you will have one later. And remember, you need to pace yourself or I end up carrying you.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll pace myself. I’ll just enjoy my Slow Comfortable Screw for now.’

  Stefanos whispers, ‘Maybe we try both later.’

  ‘Um, definitely,’ I reply as my heartbeat goes off the scale. Before I can say anything else the singer stops.

  ‘So, ladies and gentlemen, that was my little reminder of home. We’re just off for a quick break but any requests when we return will be gladly received.’ There’s a round of appreciative applause.

  Our drinks arrive and we clash our glasses together with a loud, united ‘Yamas!’

  I excuse myself to ‘powder my nose’. Only Martin understands what I’m talking about, so I leave him to explain it to Stefanos and Alexis.

  I quickly check my phone while I’m ‘powdering my nose’. There’s another message off Helen. I don’t want to jump to conclusions but I think she’s had a bit to drink. I’m not overly worried so I send a quick reply and rejoin the busy bar area.

  I push my way through the crowd to get back to our table just as the American singer returns. She reminds me of Elizabeth, a work colleague of mine. Elizabeth is a lovely lady, with gorgeous long auburn hair, who also likes to sing. Maybe she’s doing a spot of moonlighting; come to think of it, she does have rather a lot of time off work. Maybe her Manchester accent is a cover.

  She announces the next song. ‘Welcome back, ladies and gentlemen, we’re going to kick off with Kylie Minogue’s ‘Can’t Get You Out of my Head’. This song dedicated to Shirley Valentine. Come on, Shirley, it’s time we had a sequel!’

  Martin, Alexis, and Stefanos all gawp at me. I’m just about to say ‘What?’ when I realise that it’s me the American woman is talking about.

  ‘A huge round of applause for Shirley! Keep your requests coming in – we’re here until it gets light.’ The music starts and the audience join in with ‘La-la-la, la-la-la-la-la’. Everyone claps and a couple of wolf whistles are audible.

  I can feel my cheeks burning. Now look what’s happened – a whole bar of people applauding Shirley Valentine. I’ll be changing my name at this rate. At least Stefanos knows now. He obviously loves to join in with this in-joke, which I really appreciate.

  The atmosphere in the bar is lively and we’re all quite happy to stay there for another drink before we leave for the beach club. We order our next round of drinks. Stefanos has chosen the Trouser Rouser, which gives him another opportunity to whisper in my ear. I’ve never even heard of half these cocktails, but he reels off all the ingredients.

  ‘You try.’ He passes the glass to me and I take a sip.

  ‘Mmm, very tasty. Maybe I’ll try one at the Paradise Club.’

  ‘Yes, we go after this drink. The taxi is booked for midnight and we have to walk back to the square.’

  The piano bar is heaving; the singer is keeping everyone entertained. She’s got us clapping and singing along to choruses of well-known songs. I can’t believe that it’s already nearly midnight. Stefanos soon taps his watch and points to the door, which means we need to leave for our taxi. We all finish our drinks and push our way through the very crowded bar.

  I feel okay until we get outside and then the fresh air hits me. I’m a bit hazy. I can just about walk by clinging on to Stefanos, which he doesn’t seem to mind. We make our way up to the square for the taxi, all singing and laughing along with loads of other revellers. The place has come alive.

  The taxi ride to the beach goes by in a blur. Stefanos pays the driver. We all stumble out of the taxi and follow him to the club. The queue to get in seems to go on forever, but we’re soon making our way inside and I can hear the thud, thud, thud of the music.

  I’m unprepared for the scene that greets us when we finally get in and can see beyond the person in front. There are thousands of people dancing – well, when I say dancing, I mean gyrating – to music that’s so loud I feel it vibrating through my chest.

  I can’t hear a word that Stefanos says so he catches my hand and leads me over to a bar. I feel like I’m the oldest person in this club and very overdressed. Most of the girls are dancing about in bikinis and the blokes are in shorts. Stefanos finally manages to order a drink. I assume when he shouts ‘Sex on the Beach’ down my ear that he’s suggesting a drink rather than actually having sex on the beach, but, the way it looks in this club, nothing would surprise me.

  We’ve lost Martin and Alexis. We push our way through to the dancing area. I can see the DJ in the distance, up on the podium, and there’s a palm tree behind him lit up in bright pink. There are guys and girls up on the podium, spraying champagne on everyone below. The whole place is crazy. I watch it all in amazement.

  Stefanos asks if I want to dance. I’ve given up trying to talk over the noise so I nod to agree and follow him. Martin and Alexis appear. They seem to be quite at ease with it all, and so does Stefanos. I follow their lead and do my own version of what everyone else is doing, something between dancing and gyrating. Nobody stares at me so it must be okay. Of course, it’s an ideal opportunity for Martin to show off his twerking abilities and attempt to fine-tune ours, but we’re nowhere near his standard. He’s soon drawn a large crowd of onlookers and people eager to show off their booty.

  The DJ gets everyone jumping up and down, singing, clapping, waving their arms in the air, screaming and having a great time. After my initial trepidation, the night is flying by and I can’t believe it when I eventually see daylight breaking.

  Stefanos suggests that we leave before the mass exodus for the taxis. We say our goodbyes to Martin and Alexis and some others whom we were dancing with, and make our
way to the taxi rank. I struggle to walk in a straight line and talk any sense, but I’ve been worse and Stefanos isn’t much better. I sober up slightly at the sight of the long queue for the taxi, but Stefanos reassures me that it will soon shorten.

  ‘Are you coming back to the Boutique Blue with me, Stefanos? I’ve got a room to myself.’ I ask in my slurred speech.

  ‘I am not allowed, Stephanie,’ he reminds me. ‘But you can come back to my parents’ hotel, if you like.’

  ‘Um, I might take you up on that offer.’

  Our taxi is next. We’ve got an English guy called Al. He asks where we’re going and we both get in the back. Our attempts at kissing are thwarted by Al’s erratic driving. I don’t want to put my emergency dentist cover to the test. We arrive at the hotel at record speed after what feels like some sort of rally experience. He screeches to a halt, with clouds of dust billowing up into the cold morning air. Stefanos pays him but he’s clearly not amused with Al’s driving. I go into giggle mode – he looks so funny waving his arms and presumably swearing in Greek.

  Al screeches off and kicks up more dust. Stefanos shouts, ‘You crazy English driver!’

  Stefanos tries to stop me from laughing so that we don’t wake up anyone, but it’s too late. His father appears at his bedroom window and has a loud whispering altercation with Stefanos, who I assume is apologising profusely. I’m now laughing uncontrollably while Stefanos keeps putting his finger to his lips and saying, ‘Shush, shush.’

  His father disappears from view and then returns with some bedding. He throws it out to us, points towards the cabanas and mutters something in Greek before shutting the window.

  Stefanos turns to me very sheepishly. ‘I am very sorry, my father is cross. He say we are not allowed in hotel to disturb the guests, so we go to sleep in the cabanas. I call taxi if you like, maybe the wonderful Al, to take you back to your hotel.’

  ‘Stefanos, the cabana will be fine,’ I reply, still slurring my words.

  He leads me down the path, across the garden where the birds are now chirping merrily away, and over to a cabana on the beach. The sea is calmly lapping on to the shoreline. I feel the cold sand slipping unpleasantly through my sandals. Stefanos peels back the curtains of the cabana. I can hardly believe my eyes – it’s the most luxurious cabana that I’ve ever seen. There’s some matting on the ground so I can uncurl my sand-fearing toes for a start. There’s an informal seating area and a double sleeping area, which is where I flop down. There are some pretty lights draped down from the ceiling, which Stefanos turns on, and a large candle in a storm lamp on the table.

  ‘You like?’ Stefanos asks.

  ‘Very much. I never expected anything this posh behind the curtains.’

  ‘It was my idea. I like the cabanas at the Boutique Blue, so I persuade my father to buy a couple. But these are much better, as you see. Now, you make yourself at home and I bring some coffee – or would you like a Screaming Orgasm?’

  ‘No, I’ll stick with the coffee, thanks. I’ve had enough to drink for one night. I’ll have a Screaming Orgasm for breakfast,’ I answer, smiling mischievously at Stefanos.

  ‘Yes, me too,’ he replies as he exits the cabana.

  I decide to go and freshen up in the loo while Stefanos is making the coffee. I’m so nervous. I’ve suddenly got a load of what ifs going round my head. Oh my God, condoms… I used to have a couple of emergency ones in my little make-up bag. I empty the contents on to the side by the washbasin and spread them out – oh, thank goodness for that, they’re still here. I shove everything back in and pop the condoms on the top just in case. I notice there’s an expiry date on the edge of the packet, which is … unreadable. Oops, they’ve been in here that long the expiry date has worn of. Never mind, I’m sure Stefanos will have the situation under control. Right, take a deep breath, Stephanie Valentine, you can do this.

  I stagger back to the cabana and nervously open the curtain. Stefanos is back with the coffees. After all that build up – I can’t help but giggle – he’s fast asleep on the bed. I put a blanket over him and crawl under it. Oh well, tonight wasn’t the night after all…

  Chapter 21

  Helen

  My bed seems to be made, which is good news, and the window has been left open to air the room out. I need to get a move on, so I quickly strip off and step into the large glass shower. I immerse myself under the wonderful hot jets of water and reach for the shower gel – oh, for the love of God, there isn’t any.

  I open the shower door and step out on to the mat. I do a shower-mat-shuffle over the floor towards my wash bag to retrieve my own travel-sized shower gel and then shuffle back over and into the shower.

  I don’t suppose I can expect five-star treatment when they’re not even open for business. I love showers that do what they’re meant to do. A simple request in life, surely – hot and powerful and none of those clogged-up heads that end up spraying you in the eye.

  I reluctantly turn off the shower and step on to the mat to grab a… Where are the towels? I can’t believe I’ve stepped in the shower and not noticed there are no towels apart from the one I’m standing on. Un-bloody-believable. There’s only one thing for it: I’ll have to ring for some.

  I do another shower-mat-shuffle into the bedroom and over to the phone. I’ve not quite pushed in the fourth digit to ring downstairs when the door to my room opens.

  A male voice is speaking. ‘Sorry, but I’m going to have to share with you tonight. I am just checking that housekeeping have—’

  I turn round and grab the duvet to cover myself up, but it’s too late. My bare bottom has already been on show.

  ‘For crying out loud, Costas, are you trying to give me a heart attack? And what do you mean you’ll have to share with me?’

  ‘Er, sorry, I am not meaning sharing with you, I am meaning… Oh, it is not important.’ He returns briefly to his phone call. ‘I have got to go, I will see you later.’ He suddenly realises that I’m on the phone too. ‘Sorry, I interrupt. Are you speaking to someone?’

  ‘No, I was actually ringing for a towel because there are none in the bathroom, which is the reason I’m naked.’

  ‘Sorry! I will fetch a towel. I think I know where they are. I will be back in a minute.’ He’s tongue-tied and embarrassed, to say the least, and he’s back very quickly with a whole stack of towels. ‘I found the towels. Please use as many as you like. I will leave them here. I apologise again. I am sure Darius said this room.’

  ‘Okay, thank you. I’m sure Darius didn’t mean any harm. Mistakes happen.’

  ‘You know, there is phone in the bathroom,’ is his parting shot.

  I can’t resist shouting back, ‘I’ll remember that for next time!’

  I retrieve a gorgeous new towel from the stack that he’s thrown on to the bed and laugh to myself. Oh, what a sight for him – me bending over the telephone. Poor Costas! The look on his face! Talk about a rabbit in headlights. I’ve just got to text Steph. She’ll find it hilarious. Actually, I’d better text her later. I’m running out of time now.

  I lightly touch up my make-up, which seems to have lasted quite well even in the steamy hot shower, fix my hair and look at the clothes I draped over my suitcase earlier. It’s a lovely warm evening so I’ve chosen a flowery orange Monsoon dress to wear, which is summery and isn’t too crumpled, and some low-heeled slingbacks. It makes a nice change to wear these things and actually have the weather to match. I arm myself with a little clutch bag that has just enough room for the essentials, and a pashmina just in case it cools off like it does on Mykonos.

  By the time I get downstairs, the group is milling round the bar, enjoying the fruit punch that Darius was making earlier.

  ‘Evening, Miss Collins. Please help yourself to a fruit punch. I believe you had a surprise visit from Costas? I think he mishear my numbers, or maybe I get them wrong. Either way,
no harm done.’ Darius gives me a cheeky wink.

  ‘No harm done?’ I retort. ‘He’s scarred for life! The look on his face was priceless. I just wish I could have taken a picture of him.’

  ‘I think he just embarrassed. It is not every day you walk in a room and find a naked woman on phone.’ Darius laughs, shaking his head, and goes down the bar to serve the others.

  I get out my phone and see that I’ve had a text from Steph. Oh well, at least it looks like she’s keeping busy. I wouldn’t have put her down for going on a trip to an archaeological site, though – just when you think you know someone. She’s seemed pretty glued to her sunbed to me, but at least she’s taking an interest in the island and its culture. I can’t imagine what possessed her to visit Delos, which entails a boat-crossing… Oh, hang on a minute, this is interesting… That’s more like it. Sounds like I was right. But why ‘Costas aka Stefanos’? And she’s done that you’re/your thing that drives me mad. I send her a text back. I want to know more about the Costas/Stefanos comment.

  Darius reappears at my end of the bar. ‘Miss Collins, Costas send his apology. He has to go to town, I think to see his girlfriend. He ask if you supervise the interviewees until he get back.’

  ‘Right. I see,’ I reply, feeling deflated.

  I’m not sure exactly what I see, if I’m honest. For some reason, my heart has just hit the floor. Why am I surprised that Costas has a girlfriend, and why am I so disappointed? What’s wrong with me? I’m only here for a couple of days and I do actually have a boyfriend. Mind you, I think I’m clutching at straws when I use the term ‘boyfriend’. Let’s face it, a boyfriend would send me messages such as ‘I’m missing you’ or ‘I can’t wait to see you’, whereas with James it’s a complete communication blackout as far as I’m concerned. I bet he’s communicated with that bloody Tracey woman, though. Aargh, here I go again. Stop it, Helen, pull yourself together. He’s not a boyfriend. Send him the bloody we’re-finished message and get on with your life.