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Except, thought Selena, watching her go, you don’t know the half of them. And I can never tell you, or anyone else, what happened two years ago.
Or that I’m still struggling with the aftermath.
CHAPTER TWO (#u7209a4af-b016-5abe-b68f-64b0917f1fe7)
SHE SUPPOSED SHE ought to move. Go back to the store and buy some of the clothes she’d seen. The absolute minimum would do and was all she could afford anyway.
But being accustomed to living on not much could stand her in good stead if her life changed in the way she hoped.
Not ‘if’, she told herself, but ‘when’.
And in celebration, she recklessly ordered another iced coffee.
How strange, she thought, when she’d been watching Janet Forbes so closely, admiring her classroom technique, her patience and ability to engage the children, and keep them interested and focussed, that, all the time, Mrs Forbes had been watching her. Deciding to encourage her into teaching.
Not blackmail her into it.
She’d been sixteen, quietly delighted with her GCSE results when Aunt Nora had dropped her bombshell. Informed her that all her university expenses would be paid as long as she, and eventually Millie, too, agreed to teach at Meade House after graduation.
Otherwise, Selena could forget the Sixth Form and college, leave her comprehensive school and find a job.
‘I had to settle your late parents’ debts as well as bearing the costs of your upbringing,’ her aunt had stated coldly. ‘I expect to be repaid, Selena. And Amelia, of course, will have to do the same.’
She paused, allowing that to sink in. ‘And kindly stop looking as if your death sentence had just been pronounced. At Meade House, you and your sister will be guaranteed a continuing home, careers and security. A little gratitude would not come amiss.’
How am I supposed to look, Selena had wondered, when every plan—every dream I had of getting away from Haylesford and being my own person—has been virtually knocked on the head?
For a moment, she’d been prepared to say To hell with it and take the risk, but she knew that she could not make choices that would also affect the future of fourteen-year-old Millie. That was neither right nor fair.
And once her agreement had been obtained, however unwilling, there had been a perceptible easing of Aunt Nora’s strict regime, leading eventually, inevitably to Millie being permitted her Greek holiday with her friends.
Selena had found a vacation job in a cafe, one which turned out to be short-lived because one showery July day her aunt slipped and fell in her garden and ended up in hospital with a broken leg.
Aunt Nora, ensconced in a comfortable private room, received her sourly. ‘They won’t allow me to go home until I’ve mastered using these crutches.’ She gestured disdainfully to where they stood, propped against the wall. ‘But even with them, I’m going to require help, and Amelia, of course, is leaving for Greece in ten days’ time.’
Lucky Millie, Selena thought grimly.
As she’d suspected ‘patient’ was hardly the word to describe her aunt, who kept her on the run from first thing in the morning until last thing at night, with the help of the little handbell she kept beside her at all times.
In addition, Millie had fussed endlessly over her packing, claiming exclusive access to the washing machine and ironing board, and providing Aunt Nora with another excuse to grumble.
It was almost a relief when Mrs Raymond arrived with Daisy and Fiona to drive them all to the airport.
One less problem to handle, Selena thought, as she closed the front door.
‘Dr Bishop says I shall need physiotherapy when the plaster is eventually removed,’ her aunt announced the following week. ‘He has given me a list of reliable practitioners who pay private visits.’
‘Isn’t it available on the National Health Service?’ asked Selena.
‘Not to the extent that I shall require,’ Aunt Nora said coldly. ‘Dr Bishop says it was such a serious fracture that I shall probably have to learn to walk all over again.’
Selena thought drily that Dr Bishop, rightly nicknamed Old Smoothie by Millie, excelled at telling her aunt exactly what she wanted to hear, and hoped the physio would have more sense.
And, talking of Millie, apart from an initial text announcing that Rhymnos was great, they’d heard nothing from her.
Still, she decided, philosophically, the parents of Daisy and Fiona were probably in the same boat, and, anyway, wasn’t no news supposed to be good news?
She’d been into town the afternoon the girls were due back, taking a list of her aunt’s requests to the public library. She expected Millie to have arrived when she got back, yet there was no clutter of luggage in the hall.
The flight must have been delayed, she thought, then heard her aunt calling her, her voice high and angry, and found her sitting upright, two bright spots of colour in her cheeks emphasising her unusual pallor.
She checked, the terrible memory of her parents’ accident striking at her, making her feel sick to her stomach with fright. ‘Has—has something happened?’
‘Oh, yes.’ Her aunt’s voice shook with fury. ‘Your sister, it seems, has involved herself with some local yob on that island and decided to stay there—to set up house with him. Apparently she’d gone from her hotel room this morning with all her things. The other girls had to leave without her.
‘Well, I won’t have it. I will not allow her to disgrace me, to make me ridiculous in front of the whole town—a child of her age. However there’s nothing I can do about it, so you’ll have to go over there and bring her back.’ She added ominously, ‘Before too much harm is done.’
Selena sank down on the nearest chair. Typical, she thought bitterly, that her aunt should see the situation in terms of personal disgrace rather than the danger to Millie and the potential ruin of her future.
She said, ‘Who is the man? Do Daisy and Fiona know?’
‘It seems he’s the barman at the Hotel Olympia where they were staying. His name is Kostas.’ Aunt Nora pronounced the name with acute distaste then held out a piece of paper that had been crumpled in her hand. ‘She left this note.’ She shuddered. ‘Mrs Raymond could hardly look me in the eye. I blame her entirely for allowing this trip in the first place and then badgering me to let Amelia be part of it.
‘But that, of course, won’t stop her telling the entire town what’s happened. She’s probably already started.’
Selena read the note frowningly. Millie said simply that she was not coming back to England because she loved Kostas and was staying with him.
So, not much room for negotiation there, she thought.
‘As you can see, there’s no time to lose.’ Aunt Nora was regaining some of her old briskness. ‘So, you go there, you find her and you bring her back. That’s all there is to be said.’
She added decisively, ‘I will not have my plans for the future of the school wrecked by some childish infatuation. Men like this barman should be locked up.’
Selena tried to reason with her, pointing out that Millie was not a child and it might be better to let her realise her mistake and return of her own accord.
And how, she asked, would her aunt manage without her, only to discover that Aunt Nora had already booked a live-in carer.
‘Terribly expensive,’ she’d said sourly. ‘I hope Amelia realises the inconvenience she’s causing.’
But nothing Selena said made the slightest difference, which was why, only two days later she found herself on board the ferry from Mykonos with the harbour at Rhymnos already in sight.
She was in no mood to appreciate the attractive scene it presented, with its tangle of caiques and motor cruisers, and beyond them the row of tavernas and shops fronting the waterside.
And above them, on the hillside and not nearly as impressive as its name, picked out in large blue letters on the white walls, stood the Hotel Olympia.
Enemy in sight, thought Selena grimly as she picked up the big canvas satchel that served as her luggage and slung it over her shoulder.
As she came ashore she was assailed by a chorus of whistles and other bids to attract her attention by the young men mending fishing nets or waiting on tables at the tavernas.
No wonder Millie, released from the kind of purdah existing at Meade House Cottage, had been such easy game for an unscrupulous local, she thought.
Daisy and Fiona, with obvious reluctance, had volunteered a few details—his full name, Kostas Papoulis, young, good-looking, full of himself, and—with a shrug—sexy.
Besides, Daisy had added with faint malice, she hadn’t thought that he was that interested in Millie. Just—playing around.
Selena wanted to slap her. Hard.
On the other hand, if this had also occurred to Millie by now, it might make her own task much easier.
The short walk up to the hotel was blisteringly hot, and she began to think longingly of iced water.
From the road, a path led up through borders bright with flowers to a terrace running the length of the frontage, and a pair of glass doors.
The foyer was light and airy, with a marble floor and a polished reception desk, currently unattended.
But Selena headed straight for the door labelled ‘Bar’, immediately opposite, and, drawing a deep breath, she walked in.
Once again, it seemed entirely deserted. Where was everyone? she wondered, as she looked about her. It was as if the entire establishment had been abducted by aliens.
Which the aliens could have done with her good wishes, she thought, just as long as they hadn’t taken Millie.
But as she hesitated, she heard above the hiss and bubble of the coffee machine on the end of the counter, an unmistakable chink of bottles coming from behind a curtained doorway at the rear of the bar itself.
She walked to the counter, sliding her bag from her shoulder to the floor, and coughed loudly. When there was no immediate response, she followed it up with an imperative, ‘Hello.’
The curtain was swept back, and a man appeared, clipboard in hand, his frowning gaze scanning her impatiently.
Selena found she was staring back, hoping she didn’t look as shocked as she felt because he bore little resemblance to the arrogant young stud described by Daisy, or any of the grinning lads she’d encountered at the harbour.
For one thing he was clearly older, probably in his late twenties, tall, swarthy, and in need of both a haircut and a shave, with a lean muscular body clad in jeans and a faded red polo shirt that emphasised the easy strength of his chest and shoulders.
Not conventionally handsome, she thought, aware her throat had suddenly tightened, his dark eyes brilliant, the nose and chin strongly marked, the mouth cool and sculpted with a firmness that suggested he was very much in charge of himself and his surroundings. Someone with—presence. And more.
She thought, Oh, God, Millie, you stupid, stupid girl. He’s miles out of your league. What have you done?
He broke the silence, his voice deep and resonant as he addressed her in what was apparently German.
She said, ‘I don’t understand,’ and saw his scrutiny sharpen and become more searching.
If you’re thinking I could be trouble, you’ve got it in one, she informed him silently.
His English was excellent, with only a faint trace of an accent. ‘I apologise for my mistake, thespinis. I was misled by your hair.’ His gaze rested on the gleaming pale blonde mass tumbling over her shoulders, and for a startling moment, it was as if he’d touched it. Run his fingers through the length of it.
‘But I was telling you that the bar is closed at this time of day, unless, of course, you wish for coffee.’
She lifted her chin. ‘No thank you. I’ve only come for my sister.’
‘Then I am afraid you must look elsewhere.’ He glanced pointedly past her at the unoccupied array of glass-topped tables and small easy chairs, set in comfortable groups. ‘Most of our guests are by the pool at the back of the hotel, or on the beach. Is she a resident?’
‘You tell me. After all you’re the only one likely to know her exact whereabouts.’ She glanced at her watch.
‘So shall we stop playing games? Just take me to her and she’ll be off your hands and on the way back to Mykonos and the airport on the next ferry.’
‘An excellent plan.’ His voice was crisper. ‘But there is a problem. I do not know either your sister’s identity or where she may be found. Except it is plainly not here.’
Selena gasped. ‘You mean she’s already left? She’s on her way home?’ She glared at him. ‘I suppose I should be grateful to you, but I’m finding it difficult.’
‘It is also unnecessary. I was not aware of her presence here, or her departure. I suggest you conduct your enquiries elsewhere,’ he added with cold finality and turned as if to go back to the store room.
‘And I suggest you answer my questions,’ she flung after him, aware that she was trembling inside, and not simply with temper at being so summarily dismissed. ‘Otherwise I shall go to the police and tell them you’ve taken advantage of a vulnerable seventeen-year-old. That you’ve kept her here to have sex with her, forcing her friends to return to the UK without her, and causing endless worry to her family.’
She added contemptuously, ‘I thought the Greeks were supposed to respect foreign travellers.’
‘We do,’ he said. ‘Although your female compatriots do not always make it easy.’ The contempt was echoed and the frown was back in force. ‘She was staying here, your sister and her friends? Their names?’
‘Raymond, Marsden and—and Blake.’ She heard her voice quiver slightly and snatched at her self-command.
‘Ah, yes.’ He nodded. ‘I remember some of the staff speaking of them.’ His tone suggested the comments were not to their credit.
Well, he was the last person with any right to pass judgement.
‘Whatever their opinions, nothing justifies your behaviour, Mr Papoulis.’ She was about to say ‘And I insist you bring Millie here immediately,’ when she was stopped in her tracks by the realisation that he’d started to laugh.
‘I’m glad you’re amused,’ she said scornfully. ‘However, the police may not share your sense of humour.’
‘They may,’ he said, still grinning. ‘When they hear I have been mistaken for my own barman. And they would undoubtedly tell you that, when you burst in, all guns blazing, thespinis, you should make sure they are aimed at the right target.’
He put down the clipboard and held out his hand. ‘Allow me to introduce myself. I am Alexis Constantinou and I own this hotel. Kostas is merely employed here, when he can take the trouble to work,’ he added sardonically. ‘But at least I know the reason for his absence this time, and that he cannot use the excuse that he is ill.’
Numb with embarrassment, and bitterly aware of the mockery in his dark eyes, Selena allowed her fingers to be gripped briefly in his.
‘So Kostas has sweet-talked your young sister into his bed,’ he went on musingly. ‘Strange. He usually confines his attentions to rather older women—the single, the divorced, so...’ He paused, his gaze once more drifting down her hair. ‘So—she must have made quite an impression.’
Her skin warming, she said tautly, ‘I don’t find that particularly reassuring.’
‘Nor would I,’ he said unexpectedly, ‘if she was my sister.’
He turned to the shelf of bottles behind him. ‘I think you need a drink, thespinis, and so do I.’ He poured something amber into two glasses and gave her one. ‘Five-star Metaxa,’ he said. ‘A universal remedy. Especially for shock.’
She said tautly, ‘You don’t seem particularly shocked over your employee’s behaviour.’
‘No,’ he agreed. ‘However, it is an irritation.’
He came round the bar and took the drinks to a table, motioning her to join him. She obeyed reluctantly, bringing her satchel with her.
Alexis Constantinou eyed it with faint amusement. ‘You travel light, Kyria Blake.’
‘It’s going to be a brief visit, Mr Constantinou. I intend to find my sister and persuade her to leave this—this cut-price Casanova she’s involved with and come home.’
