Page 44 of Hot Greek Summer

‘Ah, I remember when it changed to Ajax,’ he said. ‘It’s true then, the story about the villa and the gin being entwined?’

‘So the story goes.’ Winnie wasn’t sure how much the islanders were allowed to know about their beloved tipple. ‘Would you like a beer while you work? The sign is still propped where you left it against the wall outside.’

‘Is that your subtle-as-a-brick way of telling me to shut up and get on with the job?’

She held her hands up and smiled. ‘You caught me.’

Jesse tugged his forelock. ‘I’ll get on then.’

‘Help yourself to a beer from the fridge under the bar outside,’ she said, staying firmly in her spot rather than following him out. Her eyes followed him anyway though, taking in the generous width of his shoulders beneath his T-shirt and the deeply bronzed colour of his shins below his shorts. He looked as if he belonged here, and it was clear from the warm way the locals spoke of him that he was accepted as one of them.

She wouldn’t have had him down as a whistler. She listened to him as he unpacked his tools, whistling almost tunefully.

‘Same place as the old sign?’ he called, sticking his head around the door frame.

Winnie nodded, leaving him to it. She couldn’t see him, but she could hear him whistling and the sound of his hammer banging, and found herself with a choice of going outside or reaching for her sketchbook again. The sketchbook turned out to be the least nerve-inducing of the two, which said much about her feelings towards Jesse.

She flipped her book open to the first clean page, picked up her pencil and touched it against the paper.

‘All done,’ said Jesse as he wandered back into reception a little later. ‘Looks pretty good. Want to come and see?’

Winnie nodded, following him outside to stand back and take a look.

‘I love it,’ she said, genuinely thrilled. Jesse’s sign was in perfect keeping with the place; slightly unconventional and unique. He’d picked out the letters in white against the mellow wood, simple and effective in the sunlight.

‘Good. I reckon I’ve earned that beer now then,’ he said, snagging one from the fridge. ‘You gonna join me, or keep on avoiding me? Because that’s gonna be pretty tough to keep up on an island like this one.’

He was right, of course, and Winnie was about to answer him when her mobile buzzed loudly on the reception desk and saved her the trouble.

‘I should get that,’ she said, practically running back inside.

Jesse ambled in a minute or two later as she hung up on Stella.

‘Saved by the bell?’ he said, handing her a beer.

‘Not exactly,’ she said. ‘It was Stella to say they’ve just bought a car.’

‘Something to drink to then,’ he said, touching his bottle neck against hers before taking a long slug.

Winnie hadn’t thought to close her sketchbook, and his eyes fell on the label sketches she’d made while he hung the sign. She’d had a strong idea of what might work and tried out several variations on the bad fairy theme, looking for a vintage parchment feel, something tongue in cheek and distinctly English.

‘Wow,’ he said, twisting his head to look. ‘I love this one.’ He touched the one that Winnie preferred. ‘That’s one sexy fairy.’ He reached for her pencil. ‘Except … may I?’

It was only pencil. She could always put it back again. ‘Sure.’

Jesse paused, studying her drawing before changing it subtly with a few deft strokes of the pencil. There was no denying it; it was better. The fairy had a little more of a glint in her eye, her hip a touch more curved, her brow raised as if she knew something no one else did.

‘You can always change it back,’ he said casually, laying the pencil down.

‘Hey, you’re the artist,’ she said. ‘I like her better.’

‘Don’t do that,’ he said softly. ‘You’re an artist in your own right, Winnie. It was a couple of tweaks, that’s all.’

‘I’m not mad at you,’ she said, putting her bottle down.

He ran his hand through his hair, agitated. ‘I shouldn’t have touched it. It was perfect as it was.’

‘Jesse, I’m not mad,’ she said again, more insistent.

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