Page 90 of Hot Greek Summer

She looked at one of her sons for approval, and he nodded to let her know that she’d said the word correctly.

It was one tiny word, but said with such practice and faltering generosity that both Frankie and Winnie were moved to hug her, thanking her in both English and terrible Greek.

They wanted to ask her why, and how, but they knew that there was little point because she wouldn’t understand the question and they wouldn’t understand the answer. For now, it was enough to know that they weren’t going to have to face the rest of the islanders and declare the gin distillery bankrupt of stock. Hero and her sons took their leave with deep bows, leaving Frankie and Winnie sitting on the bench staring at their unexpected gin windfall.

‘Well, at least we know she isn’t a raging alcoholic,’ Winnie said.

Frankie nodded. ‘I wonder why she was paid with gin if she didn’t drink it?’

It was a question that had to hang in the ether, because outside on the road someone pulled a truck up to the back gate and then leant on the horn to get their attention.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

‘Angelo?’ Winnie squinted at the driver of the red flatbed truck. It was definitely Angelo. The sharp business shirt and tie confirmed it, even though he was driving a pickup that would be more suited to overalls.

Frankie joined her on the footpath. ‘Oh,’ she said, folding her arms. ‘It’s you.’

It wasn’t Frankie at her most polite, but then he’d kind of earned her coolness.

He looked beyond them, craning his neck into the garden. Winnie didn’t need to ask him who he was looking for.

‘She isn’t here.’

His shoulders slumped. ‘When will she be back? I’ll wait.’

‘You’ll wait a long time, then,’ Frankie said. ‘She’s gone back to England.’ She didn’t addbecause of you, but it was clear from her voice that she thought it.

‘No,’ he said, urgent and hollow. ‘When? I need to see her.’

Winnie looked at her watch. ‘Her flight leaves in two hours.’

Hope flared in his dark eyes. ‘She hasn’t yet flown?’ He looked away, clearly thinking.

‘Look, Angelo,’ Frankie sighed. ‘Don’t even think about stopping her. You’re one of the main reasons she’s left.’

‘But I have something for her.’

‘So mail it.’

He shook his head, frustrated. ‘It’s not that kind of something.’

Winnie took pity on him. ‘Then leave it here, she can have it the next time she visits.’

He rubbed a hand over his jaw, thoughtful, then dropped the van keys into Winnie’s hand. ‘OK. There you go.’ He waved at the truck. ‘I can’t stay.’ He looked at his expensive watch. ‘There’s somewhere I need to be.’

Throwing his suit jacket down in the dust, he rolled his shirt sleeves back then took off on foot, running full pelt down the road as if there was a hot poker up his ass.

Winnie and Frankie watched him for a moment, completely thrown by his crazy, out-of-character behaviour.

‘He wanted to give Stella a second-hand pickup truck?’ Winnie said, gazing at the keys in her palm.

Frankie walked around it, and then suddenly scrambled up on the bumper and stood gazing at the contents of the open-back truck.

‘Win, get up here,’ she gasped, tugging Winnie by the hand until she stood alongside her on the chrome.

They stood shoulder to shoulder and gazed in silent wonder at the haul of at least ten verdant, glossy green arbutus bushes with fat, creamy blooms, all tied up in yellow-ribboned terracotta pots.

‘Frank?’

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