The Holiday (13 page)

The waiter returned with their drinks. After they had been handed round, Theo raised his ouzo and ice to his lips and glanced across the table to where Izzy was talking to Max. He knew from the many affairs he’d had, that she really wasn’t his type. She was too quiet, too serious, too unsure of herself. Too sexually unaware. And yet ... and yet there was something about her, something that intrigued him. But what was it? He looked at her hard, studying her face for the answer. It was a face, he decided, that would stay young for many years; a face that would probably grow more beautiful as she aged, and aged gracefully. But there was more to it than that. There was something irresistibly cautious in her expression and he sensed that she was a long way from trusting him. Or trusting any man, for that matter. Was that the attraction, then? Was it, he wondered, with disturbing cynicism, that he saw her as the archetypal vulnerable young girl who needed her broken heart mending? Was it just the machismo challenge?

Aware that a worrying amount of introspection was creeping into his thoughts, he tossed back the remains of his ouzo and turned to Laura on his right to lighten his mood.

‘So, Laura,’ he said in a low voice, ‘what did you think of my little display? Was it just as you would have wanted?’

‘Are you referring to the diving lessons? Or what went on afterwards?’ Her tone was playful.

‘I think you know very well what I am referring to.’

‘You played your part beautifully. But, a word of warning, you’re not to hurt her. You go only as far as she’s prepared to go.’

‘Of course. I remember the promise I made this morning, no hearts to be broken. Mine included.’

‘What’s that about a broken heart?’ asked Max, his conversation with Izzy having come to an end.

Theo was saved from lying by the sound of a commotion coming from the jetty nearest to the taverna. They all strained to see what was going on. Somebody, an English woman, was shouting, her furious words skimming across the water faster and more threatening than any tidal wave. ‘You stupid,
stupid
man! Gawd help us, couldn’t you see us coming?’

Theo smiled. It was Mark’s friend, Dolly-Babe.

One of the waiters went to investigate and, no doubt, to ingratiate himself with a potential customer. Anywhere else in the world the woman would have been shooed away as an undesirable punter, but here in Greece business was business.

‘What a hoot of a woman,’ said Laura, ‘and just look what she’s wearing. That dress must have been sprayed on.’

She looked much the same as when Theo had met her at the airport and he watched her struggle to climb out of the boat, her legs pinned together at the knees by the impossible tightness of her dress. The young waiter extended his hand and she took it without a word of thanks. Her husband — baggy shorts, florid shirt, white socks, shoes and peaked cap — was left to manage as best he could. Eventually they approached the taverna and the waiter, spying a free table, guided them towards it.

‘Oh, no, that won’t do at all,’ Dolly-Babe said. ‘I need to be in the shade. The sun does terrible things to your skin. How about that one over there?’ She pointed to a table a few yards away from where Theo and his friends were sitting and which was in full shade. ‘Lovely,’ she said, settling herself into the chair. ‘A creme-de-menthe for me — and, Bob, what’ll you have?’

‘A large beer.’

The waiter looked apologetic. He was very young, and Theo guessed that his English probably wasn’t up to full speed yet. ‘Sorry, no creme-de-menthe,’ he said.

‘What? No creme-de-menthe?’

‘You like ouzo? Ouzo very good.’

Dolly-Babe looked positively scandalised, as if she had just been offered a glass of meths. ‘No, I don’t like ouzo.’

‘Retsína?’

She added another expression of disgust to her face. ‘Gin. I’ll have a gin and tonic, but go easy on the ice. Got that? Oh, and make it a double. A generous double.’ She used her hands to indicate that it was a large glass she wanted.

The waiter nodded obligingly, as though he was too stupid to notice her patronising manner, but Theo knew that, despite the young man’s faultless courtesy, he would be sorely tempted to spit in her drink before he served it to her.

She took out a lipstick and a small mirror from her handbag and touched up her makeup. She was just messing with her hair when she raised her eyes and caught sight of Theo. She stopped what she was doing. ‘Bob!’ she hissed across the table.
‘Bob!
Look! Isn’t that the driver, you know, the driver of that man who sat next to me on the plane? No, there, behind you. I know they all look the same, but I’m sure I’m right. Coo-ee!’ A flutter of red nails waved in Theo’s direction.

‘Good gracious,’ said Max, who also had been watching what was going on, ‘she’s waving at you, Theo. Do you know her? Someone from your past?’

Theo waved back politely, and out of the corner of his mouth, said, ‘Max, please, do I look the type to have a past that would include her? Ah, she’s coming over. I will explain later, but for now, will you do me the kindness of following my lead?’

‘Hello there. What a coincidence meeting you here.’

Theo got to his feet. He bowed and held out his hand. ‘All goes well with you on your holiday?’

She laughed loudly. ‘Well, it was until some fool Italian geezer drove into our boat. Still, no real damage done. But take it from me, if there had been there’d be hell to pay for.’ She raised her sunglasses and cast a curious eye over Theo’s companions. ‘More people you work for?’ she asked.

‘Yes. Today Theo Vlamakis
ees
captain of their ship. I bring them here for lunch.’

A stifled snigger from Laura went unnoticed by Dolly-Babe.

‘Perhaps I introduce everyone to you? Yes?
Thees ees Meester
Sinclair and
hees
wife, and
thees ees Mees Issy
Jordan.’

‘Hi,’ she said to everyone. ‘I’m Liberty-Raquel Fitzgerald, and over there is my Bob. Where are you all staying?’

‘Áyios Nikólaos,’ said Max, ‘and you?’

‘Snap. We’re there too. Arrived yesterday. In fact, we were on the same plane that Mr Vlama-vlam-whatsisname here was meeting.’

‘Whereabouts in Áyios Nikólaos are you staying?’ asked Laura. She seemed to have got the sniggering under control now and sounded all politeness.

‘Villa Mimosa. Apparently it’s very near Mr St James’s place.’ She turned back to Theo. ‘Mr St James not with you today?’

Theo made another self-deprecating little bow. ‘Sadly, no.

She looked disappointed.

‘You have me pass on a message, maybe?’

She hesitated, and Theo could see that she was debating with herself whether or not a foreigner could really be trusted. ‘No, that’s all right,’ she said at length. ‘I’ll call on him in person. That’s probably the best thing to do. But perhaps you could help me. Exactly which villa is it he’s staying in? Is it that big posh one right on the end?’

There seemed no point in lying to her, she would find out easily enough anyway, so Theo reluctantly told her that it was indeed the big posh house that Mr St James was staying in.

‘I thought it might be,’ she said. ‘Well, then, I’d best be getting back to my Bob or he’ll think I’ve abandoned him.’ She suddenly looked at Izzy. ‘You want to be careful sitting in the sun like that, you’ll end up with wrinkles. See this complexion,’ she used a red nail as a pointer, ‘as good as the day I was born with it. And how have I kept it that way? Sunscreen and lots of shade. That’s how. Oh, it looks like Sunny-Jim Spiros has pulled his finger out and found us some drinks at last. See you.’

As soon as she was out of earshot, everyone fell on Theo for an explanation.

‘Who on earth is she? And why does she think you work for your friend Mark?’ asked Laura.

Theo explained about Mark being trapped on the plane with her and her husband and the nicknames he had given them, and his own response at the airport. ‘It was a joke on my part. She gave me such a look I could not help myself.’

‘What kind of look?’ asked Izzy.

‘Like this.’ He ran his eye over her body, leaving nobody in any doubt what he meant. It was a look that could have peeled a banana. Izzy blushed and lowered her eyes.

‘That’s a bit rich coming from you, Theo,’ said Max. ‘Isn’t that what you do to every pretty girl who passes your way?’

‘But that is different. Greek men are expected to behave like that. Besides, it is second nature to us.’

‘Is it, indeed?’

‘Ah, but, Laura, it was also her manner. She made the assumption that so many of you Brits make, that because I was Greek I was good for little more than driving a taxi. Believe me, there is nothing that annoys a Greek more than to have his country rubbished, or his humble and generous nature mistaken for stupidity.’

‘And you think that’s what she was doing?’

‘Yes,’ said Theo fiercely. ‘I was Zorba the Greek to her. A rustic peasant. A parody to be laughed at.’

‘But Zorba was a noble and wise man,’ Izzy said softly, ‘a little excessive, maybe, but not a bad stereotype.’

Hearing Izzy’s gentle words and the contrast they made with his own, Theo suddenly realised how petulant he sounded. He raised his hands, his palms facing his friends.
‘Lipáme
,
’
he apologised, with a light laugh, ‘please forgive me. In my desire to defend my nation I got a little carried away. I was, as you say, very much on my low horse.’

Nobody was brave enough to correct his English, and the conversation moved on to what they were going to eat. Having already made her choice, Izzy peered discreetly at Theo over the top of her menu. What a surprising man he is, she thought, and not just because he dishes out kisses so freely. Beneath all that light-hearted flirty banter, there was quite a different person. There was a man with strong views, who was quite prepared to reveal foolish ignorance and prejudice in others.

He might not like to believe it, she reflected, disappearing again behind her menu, but he wasn’t so dissimilar from the fictional character of Alexis Zorba. Neither man was afraid to confront his desires, and to do so quite openly. Especially their love of women.

She suspected that there was a lot more to Theo Vlamakis than at first met the eye.

By the time they had finished their lunch and paid their bill it was late afternoon. It was still very hot with a perfectly clear sky, but the wind had risen, and the sea was much rougher than when they had set off.

‘I hope you’re a good sailor,’ Max said to Izzy, as they left behind them the calm water of the picturesque harbour and embraced the first of the choppy waves. The boat reared up out of the water then dropped with a suddenness that jolted Izzy almost out of her seat. She placed her hands firmly either side of her and gripped the bench. It was just as well she did: the next wave was bigger than the first and made even Laura give a scream of alarm.

‘You’d better hold on tight,’ Max shouted over his shoulder, his words only just audible as the wind gusted and whipped them out of his mouth. Spray was coming into the boat, and stung as it struck Izzy’s cheek. It was like
The Cruel Sea
but without the duffel coats and cocoa! She wondered if there were any life-jackets on board. She wasn’t a bad swimmer and thought she could probably make it to the shore, but what if ... what if the boat capsized and they were all stuck under it? Or supposing she banged her head and knocked herself unconscious? What then? She gripped the bench harder still, willing her panicky thoughts away.

‘There’s no need to worry,’ said Theo, sitting once again at her side, ‘Max knows what he is doing. It is only dangerous if one tries to go too fast.’ Then, with a wink, he said, ‘His boat may be smaller than mine, but his engine is powerful enough to get us home safely.’ He put a protective arm round her shoulders and invited her to lean into him. It was not an invitation she had any intention of turning down. Right then she would have happily accepted reassurance from a peckish Hannibal Lecter.

They weren’t the only ones struggling against the elements. In front of them was a boat Izzy recognised, whose departure from the waterfront at Ayios Stéfanos they had watched with amusement. Its departing grace had matched that of its earlier arrival. But this had been after its occupants had joined them for a post-lunch coffee and glass of Metaxá and they had been treated to a brief run-down on the lives of Bob and Dolly-Babe Fitzgerald. Dolly-Babe had done most of the talking but occasionally her husband squeezed a word in. He was here on business, doing a recce of several new resorts that were being built in the south of the island. ‘No good looking round here,’ he had said. ‘Too expensive. Though if I could get a foot in the door, I wouldn’t say no. Strikes me this place is in dire need of a massive overhaul.’

‘I think you will find
thees
area
ees
protected from any further development,’ Theo had said, still maintaining the charade of ignorant taxi-driver and piling on the exaggerated accent.

‘What? You mean there’s a restriction on any new building work? You sure about that?’

Izzy had wondered how Theo would react to having his word doubted. But with perfect composure, he said, ‘It ees an area of
houtstanding
beauty. The government
weeshes
it to remain so.’

After this Bob went back to being Silent Bob and Dolly-Babe took up the conversation, telling them how she had met Bob — her diamond in the rough, as she called him. She had been a croupier on a cruise ship and it had been love at first sight with this self-made man who had cracked his first million at the age of twenty-eight from owning a caravan park. Nothing to do with money, then? Izzy had wanted to ask. ‘He was my destiny,’ Dolly-Babe had said, giving Bob a dig in the ribs with one of her sharp little elbows, ‘it was in the cards. And I don’t mean the Black Jack cards!’ Her raucous laughter had had heads turning their way.