Page 49 of Not My Greek Wedding

‘Are Bryn and Ash definitely joining us later?’ I ask as we walk.

‘Hopefully,’ says Irene with a slightly worried look. ‘Ash texted me earlier to tell me that Bryn had a run-in with a surfboard and whacked his head.’ She sighs. ‘He’s been checked over, but might have to take things easy for a bit,’ she explains.

‘Oh no, I’m sorry to hear that,’ I say with concern.

Bryn it seems has grown on me these past few days.

‘What happened to the quiz?’ asks Lulu.

‘He got the time wrong apparently. It would have been a damn sight safer though,’ Irene comments.

‘Well, I hope he turns up,’ says Lulu. ‘Or he won’t be able to be Kenny Rogers to your Dolly Parton on the karaoke.’

‘Can you imagine.’ I laugh. ‘All the same, I hope he’s okay.’

At the end of the road a bus appears, heading to the next village where the Oyster Bar is, so we decide to jump on rather than take a taxi. Thankfully there are some empty seats, as lots of people have just disembarked here in Perissa.

‘What are you going to sing?’ asks Lulu as the bus trundles along. Irene and Patsy are sitting behind, laughing at something together.

‘I’m not sure. I am torn between a lively crowd-pleaser, or perhaps a more soulful tune.’

‘I’d go for the lively crowd-pleaser,’ Lulu advises. ‘People like that kind of stuff on holiday, me included, if I’m honest. The moody soulful stuff, beautiful as it is, is best suited to a candlelit restaurant or a piano bar.’

‘You’re probably right.’

My voice is definitely more suited to easy listening type songs, and I also enjoy singing big ballads too but a lively tune is probably the best choice for this evening.

Alighting the bus, we make the short walk to the bar, which is filling up nicely but we manage to secure a table towards the back.

At the front, adjacent to the bar that has foliage hanging down from a shelf above, is a small stage. The dark wooden chairs and tables have vases at the centre containing a single pink flower.

With pink and yellow painted walls and reggae music playing in the background, the bar has an almost Caribbean feel. The whole place has a good vibe and I think the evening will be a lot of fun.

We take our seats, and a waiter wearing a suitably loud-patterned shirt appears and takes our drinks order. I glance around, but there is no sign of Ash or Bryn.

I’m sipping my drink and tapping my foot to an uplifting song that is being played, when I spot a familiar face amongst a small group of blokes. It’s Andreas from the gorgeous gift shop in Fira.

‘We meet again.’ He smiles at me when I walk past him a while later after returning from the ladies.

‘Oh, hi, how are you?’ I ask. He seems better looking than I remember. And taller.

‘I am good, and you?’

‘Yes, I’m great thanks. I wasn’t sure you would remember me, given the number of tourists that enter your shop,’ I say jokingly.

‘Ah, but not all of them needed my assistance with a photograph,’ he reminds me. ‘Or saving from losing their dignity.’

‘Ah the donkey droppings.’ I laugh and when he smiles in return, his dark-brown eyes crinkle at the corners. ‘I suppose I was lucky that you happened to be there.’

‘I believe everything happens for a reason.’

Andreas looks good, in a fitted black T-shirt that shows off a toned body, and a pair of smart stone-coloured shorts.

‘So, are you here for the karaoke?’ he asks as he places several bottles of beer onto a tray.

‘I am. I have just put my name down to sing,’ I inform him.

‘You have? Then I hope I am around long enough to hear you.’ He grins. ‘We are heading to another bar later. It is a friend’s birthday.’ He gestures to one of the small group of men who are chatting in a group a little further away.

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