The Silver Stain (36 page)

The front door opened as far as the chain allowed.

‘Hey, Alex,’ said the Fat Man in a stage whisper. ‘Let me in.’

Mavros closed the bedroom door on the sleeping Niki and took off the chain.

‘What the hell is that?’ he demanded, staring at the huge package his friend was carrying.

‘Double-layer
galaktoboureko
,’ Yiorgos replied. ‘I found a recipe of the old woman’s. Don’t know if I’ve cracked it, though.’

In the kitchen, they carefully removed the paper covering.

‘Christ and the Holy Mother,’ Mavros said, ‘one bite of that will bring instant death.’

‘Right,’ the Fat Man said, laying out two plates. ‘We’d better make a suicide pact.’

‘What?’ Niki said from the door, rubbing her eyes and peering at the great mound of custard-filled filo pastry. ‘Count me in.’

They ate, drank chilled water and moved on to Yiorgos’s superlative coffee. Mavros watched the pair of them, surprised that no sparks had started to fly.

Then the Fat Man went too far. ‘So, Alex, that Cara Parks? Is she really as well endowed as she looks on the screen?’

There was a brief pause and then Niki launched into a loud anti-male tirade.

Mavros laughed and left them to it. On the balcony, he looked southwards towards the light-blue Aegean, wishing for a few moments that he was back on Crete. Then he came to his senses and re-entered the domestic combat zone.

AFTERWORD

F
urther background to this novel, in particular regarding the Battle of Crete, can be found on my website,
www.paul-johnston.co.uk
. All the characters are composites, enhanced by my novelist’s imagination, and are not based on individual participants in the fighting.

Some readers might wonder why I have changed the names of certain crucial wartime locations. The simple answer is that it felt right to do so. The sufferings of those involved, especially the Cretans, deserve the utmost respect and sympathy, and I did not want to use actual places of sacrifice in a work of fiction. However, as I describe the horror of the events in detail, it might appear that I am both in possession of my
galaktoboureko
and consuming it. Readers can make their own judgements. As for the drug-producing village of Kornaria, there is a real equivalent but I pusillanimously changed the name to avoid – I hope – a vendetta.

Crete, the Great Island, is a complex and fascinating place. There are plenty of good books for visitors. I particularly recommend the
Rough
and the
Blue Guides
for general information. Christopher Somerville’s
The Golden Step
,
Across Crete: Part One
(compiled by Johan de Bakker), and
The Poetics of Manhood
by Michael Herzfeld provide illuminating details.

Many thanks to Crème de la Crime and Kate Lyall Grant for enabling me to exhume Mavros. And, as ever, I raise a large glass of vintage wine to my agent Broo Doherty of Wade and Doherty, whose critique of this book’s first draft was astute.