‘You’re a caring person,’ Elias told her. Where were her hands? He was trailing fingers over the table, trying to distinguish what things were. Salt and pepper pots, the edge of the cloth, olive oil and vinegar… why had his mother put so much on the tables?
‘And my caring nature means I’m easy to take advantage of. That’s why I’m still working at It’s A Wrap, in the town I grew up in. Helping my sister not lose her business while watching her make a life with my ex-boyfriend.’
‘OK,’ Elias said. ‘I have had enough of this.’ He didn’t care about leaving before they had finished the meal. They could eat somewhere else. Somewhere they weren’t going to be watched or matched.
‘What?’ Becky asked.
‘We are getting out of here.’ He stood up, still disorientated by the dark but now no longer caring. ‘Mama! Put on the lights!’
‘Elias, she is not going to be happy if you do that,’ Becky gasped.
‘I do not care. I cannot sit here a moment longer talking with you but not being able to see you. This whole thing is ridiculous. Why should you like someone more if they make the sound of a stray dog or think the stifado is spicy yet sweet?’
Becky couldn’t help but laugh.
‘Mama! Put the lights on now or I will wander around the room, knocking into everything and everyone until I find the switch!’ He took a step to the left and banged into a table. ‘Signomi.’
‘Elia! What are you doing? Sit down!’ Eleni ordered him.
‘Mama, Becky and I are leaving now. Please show us where the door is.’
‘You cannot leave with the English girl.’
‘What?’ Elias baulked.
‘She is not your match,’ Eleni responded. ‘She make the sound of a pig.’
‘It was a cute-sounding pig,’ Elias said.
‘Your match should be Maria. I tell her to make the sound of the hoopoe bird.’
‘Mama!’
‘You liked to watch the birds when you were a boy.’
And now his mother was obviously intent on embarrassing him. He reached into the pocket of his trousers for his mobile phone. Swiping up and trying to remember the location of the ‘torch’ function he held his breath and hoped.
‘What are you doing?’ Eleni asked him.
Music started to play. The last thing he had listened to. It was Camila Cabello. He had pressed the wrong icon and now ‘Senorita’ was filtering out into the dark. He made a stab at the screen and finally a beam of light came from the top of the phone. He staggered back, confused by what he was seeing. His mother was wearing something over her face. Was that… were they…?
‘Mama! Are you wearing… night vision goggles?’
Eleni threw her hands up the air in frustration. ‘How else am I supposed to see anything?’
‘Becky,’ Elias said, turning to her and reaching out a hand. ‘Let’s go.’
‘Elias… Miss English… there are still two other rounds to go.’
He felt Becky’s hand meet his and he realised there was no way he was going to stop.
Forty-Six
Tavernaki Taverna, Kassiopi
This harbour was so beautiful. Becky was sat at a table outside a gorgeous cream-coloured old stone restaurant, overlooking speedboats, tourist cruisers and, across the gently swaying water, larger yachts – their masts tall, sails wrapped up for the night. Lights from the bars and tavernas reflected on the sea, trails of gold softly rippling with the movement of the ocean. It was one of the most idyllic settings she had ever seen. Sipping at a cold glass of white wine, she sat back against her seat and let the realisation of being here settle on her. She was here with Elias, about to eat food she wouldn’t have to describe the texture of, a car ride away from Liakada and Villa Selino. And they weren’t here together because they had been thrown together through a missed connection or stormy weather, they were here together because they wanted to be. It was a date… and it was something Becky definitely wasn’t going to consult How to Win the Love of Your Life or Die Trying about.
‘I am so sorry that call took so long.’ Elias eased himself back into his seat opposite her. ‘Nikos’s father answered and then he had to find Nikos and then Nikos wasn’t where he was meant to be and, well, I had to listen to father and son have an argument about why Nikos wasn’t where he should have been before I could even get to speak to him.’
‘He’s going to give Petra a lift back to the villa though?’ Becky asked, slipping her phone out of her bag. ‘And he’s trustworthy. He isn’t going to try it on or anything.’ She looked at him. ‘Is he under thirty?’
‘You are worried about Nikos trying something with Petra?’ Elias asked. ‘I am more concerned for Nikos.’
‘Elias, I know she comes across as this strong, take-on-the-world type but she’s really not… I don’t think.’
‘You can trust Nikos,’ Elias told her. ‘I promise.’
‘OK,’ Becky answered. ‘I’ll text her.’
‘And then you will stop worrying?’ Elias asked. ‘So we can enjoy the fantastic food coming our way?’ He swallowed. ‘And, so I can tell you everything else my mother doesn’t know about me.’
‘Yes,’ Becky promised, tapping out a quick message.
*
Elias was going to do it. He was going to be completely honest with Becky about what had happened with Hestia and how he had built his business on the back of that betrayal. He was both apprehensive and a little bit high on the anticipation. No matter what Becky thought or felt, even if nothing ended up happening between them, it would be a step forward for him. To admit to what happened. To tell someone how desperate he had felt, how cursed somehow. It was important.
‘Tell me,’ Elias said when Becky had put away her phone again. ‘Have you finished the plan of the party you were creating on the plane?’
‘Oh… yes, I have.’ She blushed a little and reached for her wineglass.
‘You are happy with it?’
‘I… think so.’
‘You do not know?’
‘I don’t know if I know,’ she answered softly, her eyes dropping to the table just as a waiter brought thick slices of bread together with garlic butter and a beetroot dip.
‘Why do you not have confidence in this?’ Elias asked once the waiter had gone. He offered Becky the wooden bread box and she took a slice, immediately tearing a piece off and dropping it to her plate.
‘Because I’ve never done it before. I’ve never pitched for a catering job.’
‘But,’ Elias began, smearing some beetroot spread onto his bread, ‘you tell me that you create all these unique recipes for customers sandwiches.’
‘I do.’
‘Then…’ He paused, watching her expression before he took a bite of the food.
‘It isn’t the same. What I do with people’s sandwiches is on such a small scale and it’s all about the individual. This has to be right for the whole group and if I don’t get it right and we don’t get the job then Megan will say “I told you so”.’ She pushed a piece of bread in her mouth and chewed. ‘But, then again, if we do get the job, she doesn’t want the job so… I’m pretty much screwed all round.’