Page 40 of Not My Greek Wedding

She picks up her glass and clinks it against mine. ‘Here’s to the future,’ she says.

Heading home tired out after our day shopping, we are approaching a roundabout, when a car with the roof down cuts into our lane and our taxi driver beeps his horn and shouts something in Greek as the car disappears in a cloud of dust.

Although I can’t be certain, I thought the driver of the car was Christos. There was a woman sitting beside him, a headscarf tied around her head and wearing sunglasses, and looking very chic. I tell myself I must be mistaken. There are many men who drivesports cars and I never actually got close enough to see the driver properly.

Surely it could not have been Christos, I tell myself, the incident clearly playing on my mind, as we pull up into our village and pay the taxi driver. It was barely an hour since he asked me out on a date. Surely he would not have the cheek to do such a thing while out with another woman. Would he?

Arriving back in Perissa, we meet Irene and Patsy sipping tea at the Sea Breeze and they call us over.

‘I hope you had a good day shopping,’ says Irene. ‘And you will never guess where we have been today,’ she says excitedly.

‘Ooh do tell,’ I say, plonking down on a seat next to her, my mind still distracted by the bloke I thought was Christos.

‘Well, I found the owner of the necklace,’ she tells me.

‘It was me actually, but never mind,’ Patsy corrects her.

‘Whatever. We found the owner,’ Irene corrects herself.

‘Oh, that is wonderful news. I bet they were thrilled.’

‘You can say that again,’ Irene continues. ‘The necklace belonged to a lady whose husband had bought it for their wedding anniversary.’

‘Yes, and he was so grateful, he invited us to their home for lunch in the afternoon, although it was more like a palace really, wasn’t it?’ Patsy turns to Irene. ‘It had this huge marble balcony, overlooking a swimming pool.’

‘Oh, it was not far from here actually,’ Irene says, pointing along the road. ‘Uphill slightly and directly overlooking the beach. Lunch was like a feast, served by their own staff, can you imagine? We had champagne too.’ She smiles. ‘We had to go for a little siesta afterwards, didn’t we, Patsy?’ She giggles.

‘We did. They offered a reward too,’ Patsy says, picking up the story. ‘But Irene wouldn’t hear of it.’

‘Are you saying you would have taken it?’ asks Irene in surprise.

‘I might have,’ says Patsy, fishing her vape from her bag and taking a puff. ‘They weren’t exactly short of money, and that necklace was worth a bob or two,’ she muses.

‘You never encouraged me to take it,’ Irene replies with a frown. ‘But perhaps I should have.’ She ponders this for a moment before deciding that lunch was more than enough, and that it wouldn’t have felt right accepting a reward for doing a good deed.

Later that evening, Lulu and I have some snacks on the balcony, before watching a subtitled romcom in the apartment bedroom. Lulu snoozes gently in the bed nearby before the ending of the film, and having decided to relax and put the incident at the roundabout out of my mind once and for all, I switch off my bedside light and drift off too.

EIGHTEEN

I am awake early the following morning buzzing with excitement, wondering what Christos has in mind for our day out.

After showering, I change and take Lulu’s advice as I don a bright-green cotton dress and my white sparkly trainers.

‘Oh my gosh, it seems we are going swimming,’ I tell Lulu, who is sipping coffee outside on the balcony.

‘Really? Are you going to the beach then? Or maybe a private club with a pool?’ she suggests.

‘I’m not sure but he has told me to bring a swimsuit,’ I tell her as put a bikini on under my dress and stuff a towel into a beach bag. I’m feeling a bit rushed as he also said that he will meet me downstairs in five minutes.

‘Sounds like it might be fun.’ She grins. ‘But only do what you are comfortable with.’

‘I will,’ I tell her, suddenly feeling a bit nervous. What does he have planned? I wonder. Maybe it is a private beach club? Or perhaps we are going to his house? I imagine that would have a swimming pool.

I don’t have long to wait for the answer as downstairs, after Christos has greeted me with a kiss on the cheek, I am being whisked along the seafront in his Porsche.

‘Are we heading back to Fira?’ I ask as we pass the familiar landscape.

‘Yes, to the harbour.’ He turns to me and grins. ‘We are going to take my boat out.’

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