Page 30 of Hot Greek Summer

Winnie didn’t doubt it; any brother of Corinna’s was sure to be a force of nature.

‘I think we can squeeze him in,’ Frankie said, looking at Stella and Winnie for confirmation as she spoke.

They both nodded; much as they were enjoying having the place to themselves, they couldn’t call themselves a B&B if they didn’t take in guests.

Relieved, Corinna banged her hand down flat on the reception desk and laughed. ‘Ladies, you’re marvels. He’s going to love staying with you all, I know it. He’ll be here on the morning ferry tomorrow.’

‘Oh!’ Winnie said. ‘So soon.’

‘Is that OK? I expect I could manage him for a couple of nights if you need me to?’ Corinna looked as if she’d rather put Darth Vader up than her own brother.

‘No, no need,’ Stella said. ‘We’re as ready as we need to be, aren’t we, ladies?’

Ajax had left them a couple of reservations in the book, the first of which wasn’t until the end of the following week. They’d been busy preparing for them, but in truth the place was ready. There was still lots of internal cosmetic work they wanted to do, but the B&B needed to thrive and grow in order to build an improvement nest egg. Besides, Villa Valentina’s shabby grandeur was kind of part of its appeal. Their job was to maintain it with a subtle hand, and to wow their guests with great service, island gin and a warm welcome. A six-week booking was just what they needed. Frankie opened the reservations ledger and clicked her pen.

‘So, what’s your brother’s name, Corinna? I think we should put him in the Captain’s Suite.’

‘Angelo.’

Winnie nodded. ‘Captain Angelo it is then. Looks we’ve got ourselves our first guest, ladies.’

‘What time does the boat arrive?’

Winnie straightened the reservations book and laid the pen on top, and then changed her mind and laid it alongside it.

‘Eleven. Will you stop fiddling? You’re making me nervous,’ Stella said, putting the pen back where it had been in the first place.

Frankie came through with a big ceramic painted bowl full of fresh fruit from the garden and set it on the low table in the seating area.

‘If he eats all of that, I’m not going to be the one who cleans his loo,’ Stella said.

Frankie frowned. ‘Too much?’

‘Unless he brings everyone else off the boat with him too and they haven’t eaten for a week, yes,’ Winnie said. ‘It looks welcoming though, so leave it for now.’

‘It makes us look as if we’re expecting hordes of guests, I thought,’ Frankie said, studying the bowl to see if it was in the centre of the table, and moving it an inch to the left.

Winnie glanced up at the clock, thinking that the boat should dock in about an hour, so allowing for Corinna collecting her brother and getting him to the villa, that gave them about ninety minutes with the place to themselves before they were officially open for business.

‘I’m nervous,’ she said, moving the pen to one side of the ledger again. ‘Are you?’

‘Well, I’m definitely nervous about the food side of things,’ Frankie said. Officially they only offered breakfast, but Frankie had put together an interesting choice of homemade dishes and also planned to offer different cakes and pastries in the afternoons. If nothing else, Corinna’s brother would breakfast like a king in the mornings.

‘Nope. Not nervous,’ Stella said. ‘It’s exciting. This is what we came for.’

Winnie swallowed. Stella was right, of course; without guests they’d be packing their bags and going home to England. The thought had her reaching for the pen again until Stella smacked her fingers away.

‘Go and have a gin or something, will you? You’re making me twitchy.’

‘Kalimera?’

They looked up as a woman walked in and gazed at them enquiringly.

‘Kalimera,’ Frankie tried, and the woman let forth a long string of Greek that none of them had a prayer of understanding. Winnie watched her, trying to guess what she might be saying from her body language. She was in her late fifties or sixties at a guess, and dressed in a black dress with a kitchen apron around her waist. Her greying hair was fastened at her nape, and her lined face was free of makeup. She gestured around at the villa as she spoke, and then stared at them as if they ought to know exactly what she meant.

When they stared back, mystified, she huffed with frustration, fell to her knees and made motions as if she was scrubbing the floor.

‘Does she think our floor is dirty?’ Frankie asked, affronted after scrubbing it herself the previous day. After a few seconds of charades she got off her knees and crossed behind the reception desk and started to rummage in the cupboard behind there.

---