‘That sounds… perfect,’ Becky said quickly. ‘Traditional.’
‘The stifado is coming. You will have bread.’
Petra opened her lips to reply.
‘It wasn’t a question,’ Becky mouthed across the table.
As Eleni left them again, Petra put her nose to the large carafe, sniffing. ‘Jesus, it smells like it’s come out of someone’s grandmother’s grandmother. If we drink this we’re probably going to die.’
Becky nodded. ‘But, on the other hand, if we don’t drink it, she’ll probably kill us anyway. How would you rather go?’
‘Pass me a glass,’ Petra ordered.
Thirty-Seven
‘Shit, I’m pissed,’ Petra hiccupped and leaned so far back on the tiny chair that she almost toppled it over backwards. Only grabbing the table with her fingertips prevented her spilling onto the floor. ‘What is in that wine?’
‘Do you really want to ask?’ Becky was feeling a little on the blurry side too and it was nothing like any of the on-the-way-to-drunk feelings she had had before in the UK. This was on a whole new level. She mustn’t drink any more. And she mustn’t let herself be in charge of anything – things with wheels, credit cards, her phone.
The stifado had been wonderful though. The hunks of beef tasted like they had been quietly, oh-so-slowly stewed for at least a whole day and the rich, red sauce had a gravy consistency that tasted of paprika, cumin, nutmeg and cinnamon. As good as it was though, Becky couldn’t help but think there was something missing. She couldn’t quite yet put her finger on what it was though.
‘We need to ask someone,’ Petra loud whispered.
‘Ask someone what?’
‘Ask someone about Elias,’ Petra said. ‘You know, our mission for being here was to find out more about him, not to get as fat as a big, fat Greek meze or as drunk as… as drunk as… as drunk as we are already.’ Petra hiccupped again then sneezed.
‘You speak about Elias?’
It was Eleni. Where had she come from? Becky sat up a little taller and straightaway felt under the deepest scrutiny.
‘Elias Mordos,’ Petra spoke, her words very slurry. ‘Do you know him? Six-foot, short dark hair, quite hot for a man in his thirties, fit body…’
‘It’s Mardas,’ Becky interrupted. ‘Not Mordos.’
‘Is it?’ Petra asked, toying with her plaits.
‘I know him,’ Eleni answered. ‘Wears the expensive suits. Has money.’
‘He has money, does he?’ Petra asked, showing a little too much enthusiasm in Becky’s opinion.
‘You want his money?’ Eleni snapped, almost baring teeth.
‘No,’ Becky said. ‘We met him… on a plane and…’
‘Three planes actually,’ Petra reminded.
‘He does not fly a plane that is private anymore?’ Eleni said. ‘He cannot have as much money as we think.’
‘That’s an excellent point,’ Petra mused, a finger in the air, eyes a little glassy. Becky hoped she didn’t look quite that intoxicated.
‘But,’ Petra began again, ‘rich people these days, they are absolutely paranoid about their carbon footprint, aren’t they? And flying with other people is eco-friendlier and better for the environment. Well, not better per se but, you know, slightly less harsh on the ozone.’
‘He has good shoes, doesn’t he?’ Eleni carried on. ‘A well-styled carbon footprint.’
‘So, you know him well?’ Becky asked her. ‘Elias.’
‘We are very close, if you know what I mean.’ Eleni touched the side of her nose with a finger. ‘We have been as close as two people can be.’
‘Ugh! No! Seriously?!’ Petra exclaimed in horror. ‘That’s like Dick Van Dyke… but in reverse. Loved him in Murder 101 on Hallmark but… no.’
‘Petra!’ Becky didn’t know exactly how old Dick Van Dyke was – or if he was even still alive – but there was no way Eleni was in her – nineties? – or… dead.
‘You think a woman like me could not be attractive to a younger man?’ Eleni asked, her face suddenly very in the middle of their space. She smelled of the stifado. What was it that was missing from that dish? Something to just add a little extra zing… Becky shook her head and re-engaged.
‘I don’t think Petra meant that. At all.’ But the reality was, Eleni seemed to be telling them that she knew Elias intimately and that made her even more suspicious about who he actually was. Could the man who had held her in his arms so tenderly have a penchant for the older woman? But who was she to judge? And she guessed everyone had a past.
‘I can’t believe I’ve half-kissed someone who would be “as close as two people can be” with someone like—’
‘Petra,’ Becky said warningly. Had Petra said ‘half-kissed’. What did that mean? There had been no half measures of a kiss from where she had been standing in Kefalonia. She was starting to get a headache and she looked at the dark white wine and wondered whether more of it might be the best cure.
‘You kiss Elias?’ Eleni blurted out suddenly. It was a horrified sound like Petra could have infected him with something she might have picked up in the darkest corners of Bali.
‘I… not really… it was just the most fleeting of touches,’ Petra backtracked. ‘You’re not still together, are you?’ Becky watched her shrink a little.
‘You like men?’ Eleni continued, picking up their used cutlery and brandishing it as she prepared to clear the table.
‘I don’t know what the right answer is,’ Petra said, her usual bluster diminished.
‘You do not kiss a man one moment and then a woman the next?’ Eleni continued.
‘You really can’t ask questions like that in 2020,’ Petra responded, a little confidence coming back. ‘And you certainly cannot make a judgement on it. I believe very strongly that love is love.’
‘I think,’ Becky began, ‘that…’
‘I think that you are not for Elias,’ Eleni concluded. ‘You are too… English.’
‘Oh my God!’ Petra gasped. ‘You can’t say that either!’
Becky wanted the whole conversation to stop. How had it developed into this in the first place?
‘I can say what I like,’ Eleni responded. ‘This is my cafeneon.’
‘And you should be accepting of everyone if you want people to spend their money here,’ Petra told her.
‘Could we have some more wine?’ Becky asked.
Eleni glared at her. ‘You have not finished the first jug.’
‘I know,’ Becky replied. ‘But we will. Look, I’m having the last glass now.’ She poured the remaining wine into her glass and held it in the air as proof… and a passing mosquito dive-bombed right into it.
‘Eleni!’ The voice came from inside the building and the woman turned her head to see who was calling her. Then she grabbed the plates from in front of the women, turned and headed back inside.
‘Shit!’ Petra announced, grabbing Becky’s glass of wine and downing it in one.