As Greek as It Gets: A fun, feel-good romantic comedy Read online

  ‘Hello, again. Have you had a good evening?’ He’s wearing jeans and a white T-shirt that shows off his muscular, tanned arms. He offers me a seat beside him and I walk through to the bar and sit down.

  ‘Hi. Sorry, I didn’t recognise you for a minute.’

  ‘Maybe without the cap.’ He runs his fingers through his black, slightly curly hair that almost reaches his neck.

  ‘Probably. And, yes, thanks, I had a lovely evening. I sang on the karaoke in a bar,’ I say with pride, hardly able to believe it myself.

  Vangelis’s looking nonplussed, so I rattle on.

  ‘Which I realise doesn’t sound like something huge, but believe me it was for me. I hate being in the spotlight. I actually can’t believe I did it! Or how much I enjoyed it!’ I smile when I think of the expression on my friends’ faces as I made my way up onto the stage.

  ‘Then in that case I will say “Congratulations”. You conquered your fear.’ He gives me a sexy smile, which I am sure works on most of the women he meets. ‘Would you like a drink to celebrate?’ He stands up and seems taller to me than he did earlier. Or maybe I wasn’t paying much attention.

  ‘I think maybe I’ve had enough. A cappuccino might be nice though.’

  Vangelis goes to the bar and returns with the coffee and a Greek coffee for himself. He asks if I like the hotel and I’m surprised when he tells me it was built by his grandfather.

  ‘My brother, Santos, and my sister run the place now. My father took over the hotel after my grandfather passed but he too died five years ago. My mother has her own career, so it was offered to the next generation to carry on the running of the hotel.’

  He takes a sip of his coffee and I’m struck by how relaxed he seems. Maybe that’s what happens when you live on Crete.

  ‘It’s beautiful. Everything here is.’ I glance around the bar that is furnished with wooden tables and white walls covered in mirrors and pieces of art. ‘Your grandfather must have worked so hard to create such a lovely place.’

  ‘My brother and I helped with the refurbishment last year. It seems that many guests, although they love Greece, don’t like their accommodation too… I can’t think of the word.’ He frowns in thought for a second or two. ‘Oh, yes, rustic! Guests like their home comforts.’

  ‘It’s a changing world, I suppose. Do you work here too?’

  ‘No, I prefer the outdoor life, which is why I started the jeep tours. I tried working in the hotel for a while, and I do love talking to guests and learning their stories, but I felt restless, always yearning to be outdoors. I think I drove my brother and sister crazy.’ He smiles a broad smile and I find myself looking at his full mouth. ‘Have you been to Greece before?’

  I tell him how Molly found the special deal online, and that I actually got engaged last time I came to Crete with Max.

  ‘Congratulations! This Max sounds like a clever person. No woman should ever say no to a proposal on this island.’ There is something slightly wistful in his voice now, which I wonder about for a second.

  We chat for a while longer and Vangelis tells me he is staying at the hotel overnight. He says he has an apartment in Heraklion, but often stays over when he has had a long day on the jeep tours and doesn’t feel like driving home.

  I feel completely at ease as I sit chatting to him. He tells me all about the island and its history and I, in turn, talk about my art and my life in the north of England. It’s clear from his conversation how much he loves the place where he lives, and how sure he is of his life here. I feel a pang of jealousy, wishing I was as secure and contented with my life back home.

  As we finish our coffees, Vangelis hesitates before he asks me a question. ‘Do not think this inappropriate, but my hotel room has a huge balcony with the best sea view in the hotel. Would you like to come and have a Metaxa brandy as a nightcap? The view at night will not disappoint you.’

  The question surprises me. I’ve just told Vangelis all about Max and that I am here on my hen party, and here he is inviting me to his room for a drink. Yet I feel strangely safe and comfortable here with him, because he’s so easy to talk to, and to my surprise I find myself accepting. Besides, the hotel is a family affair, so he’s hardly likely to try anything inappropriate.

  Vangelis opens the door to his room on the second floor and I follow him inside. When he switches on the lights, I gasp. His ‘room’ is more of a suite really, with a separate lounge and kitchen area. He crosses the lounge and slides open the glass door to a huge balcony. Once outside, I can see that it really does have a breathtaking view. The sea is inky black, illuminated by the twinkling lights of the hotels, bars and restaurants that curve around the bay. The view from our rooms is pretty enough, but it’s only a side view of the sea and nothing compared to this.

  Vangelis goes back inside and pours two glasses of brandy into chunky glasses, before returning to the balcony and handing one to me.

  ‘You weren’t kidding about this view. It’s absolutely sensational. I guess one of the perks of being family is that you get the best room, hey?’ I say, smiling at Vangelis.

  ‘It’s not quite the best room.’ He winks at me. ‘Are you hungry? I ate a little early this evening. I could order some room service.’

  I realise that I am quite hungry, too, so I nod. ‘Thanks, that would be nice.’

  A short while later, a mixed meze and flatbreads are delivered to the room. Vangelis puts the plates onto a low table in the lounge and we sit down to eat. We chat easily as we tuck into the delicious food, which includes creamy dips, sundried tomatoes and olives, and Vangelis asks me about my wedding plans. I find myself telling him all about Molly’s planning and Max and his spendthrift ways, and how the wedding arrangements are beginning to feel like a runaway train. It feels easier, somehow, to say this out loud to a stranger than to any of the girls.

  Vangelis spears an olive with a cocktail stick, while frowning slightly at me. ‘Your future husband has money. He wants to spend it on a special day for you. Why do you not approve?’ He has a delicious Greek accent although his English is very good.

  ‘It’s not that I mind spending money, I just don’t like wasting it. You never know when it might be taken away and you’ll be left with nothing. Plus, as I said, I’m not very good at being in the spotlight. I can be a bit shy if I’m the centre of attention.’ I sigh. ‘I guess it just isn’t turning into the wedding I first envisaged.’

  ‘Is this the same woman who has just been singing on a karaoke in a room full of strangers?’ He raises an eyebrow, cocking his mouth in that sexy smile again.

  ‘I know what you mean, but they were exactly that. Strangers. I will probably never see the people I meet on holiday ever again.’

  ‘Some people come into your life and you hope they will stay forever. But life is full of disappointment.’

  Vangelis has a faraway look as he speaks and I wonder what he is thinking. Then he smiles and focuses his soft brown eyes on me. They’re the kind of eyes you could fall right into. I give myself a mental shake. That is, if you weren’t about to marry the love of your life.

  ‘So why are you so worried about being without money? It sounds as though your fiancé is developing a very successful business.’

  I’ve told Vangelis about Max’s ambitious nature and how he quickly built his new business and employed people.

  ‘I don’t see the need to be excessive for just one day, that’s all. One day. I suppose I’ve always been a little cautious around money.’

  ‘Well, they do say opposites attract.’

  ‘We’re definitely opposites. Maybe looking after my money stems from things I experienced in my childhood.’

  ‘Most things do.’ He swirls the drink around in his chunky glass before fixing his eyes on me again. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’

  ‘About the wedding or my childhood?’

  ‘Both, if you like.’

  I’m wondering why on earth I’m speaking about these things to a virtual stran
ger and question whether Vangelis is secretly a therapist. He seems to have this uncanny ability to look into your eyes and have you baring your soul in no time at all.

  ‘I suppose I just remember one particular Christmas when I was a child and everything changed forever. I’ve never really enjoyed Christmas since. I was eight years old, sitting at home eating chocolates and watching Home Alone for the umpteenth time, when Mum got in, loaded down with shopping. To this day I can’t watch the scene in the movie where one of the characters lets out a scream when a spider lands on him. It’s freeze-framed in my mind, because it’s the moment all the drama happened.’

  I catch my breath for a minute and take a sip of my drink as the memory of that evening comes flooding back. The brandy has an almost immediate warming, relaxing effect.

  ‘Anyway, I noticed a light dusting of snow on Mum’s red coat and I remember racing to the window in excitement, to see thick snowflakes falling from a strange-looking orange sky. My younger sister, Lexie, was in the kitchen and almost fell flat on her face running through the hall when I called her to watch the snowflakes, which were getting bigger by the minute.

  ‘I loved that house.’ I pause as memories of a cosy winter tucked up in the warmth are mixed with bitter sadness. ‘It was the second house move we’d made in five years, but this place felt special somehow. I remember Mum saying how she was going to make it our forever home, but it turned out to be the house where the arguments started. Or at least the first time I have any memories of them.’

  I take another sip of the brandy, wondering what I’m doing raking up old memories from my past, yet I can’t seem to stop myself. It feels like unravelling a ball of string and not being quite certain of where or when it will stop.

  ‘Dad would tell Mum she needed to “stop spending money like it was going out of fashion”. Mum, in turn, would tell him “not to be so tight-fisted” and “didn’t he want to make Christmas memories for his children?” He accused her of spending most of the money on clothes for herself, as she was always so beautifully turned out.’

  ‘Turned out?’

  ‘Dressed.’

  Vangelis nods, his dark eyes staring at me intently. All this time he is listening to me without interrupting and I feel as if I’m talking to someone I have known all my life. It’s strangely comforting to be sitting here with this man who is almost a complete stranger.

  ‘Mum claimed a lot of her clothes were from charity shops and second-hand sales although, looking back, perhaps Dad would have known that Mum would never be one to accept someone else’s cast-offs. And I remember there was always an elaborate display of fresh flowers on a table in the hall near the front door. She would purchase them from the local florist, so they wouldn’t have come cheap.’

  ‘So, what happened on the day with the snow?’ he asks, pulling me back to the story.

  ‘The debt collectors suddenly arrived. I’ll never forget that snowy afternoon in December when they loaded all our belongings into a van, including the TV, which moments before I’d been watching. Mum was hysterical, screaming at the two men to have a heart as it was only a week before Christmas, but they shook their heads and went about their business. Lexie and I stood in the kitchen, hugging each other and sobbing, and not really knowing what on earth was going on.’

  Vangelis says something softly in Greek. ‘That must have been so hard.’

  ‘Dad walked through the door to find the house stripped bare and asked my mother what on God’s earth had she done. They rowed and then he told us both to fetch our coats and any toys, which thankfully the debt collectors weren’t interested in. They’d taken our brand-new music system though, and most of Mum’s jewellery. It seems she’d racked up thousands of pounds’ worth of debt over the years, which Dad knew nothing about. I think I probably blanked that Christmas out of my mind as I grew older. We went to stay at my grandmother’s house with my father, who made our Christmas as special as he could, but our family was broken.’

  ‘What happened to your mother?’

  ‘She’d gone to stay with a friend and came to drop two presents off for Lexie and me on Christmas morning. Dad must have taken pity on her because he invited her to stay for lunch, although he could barely bring himself to look at her. He tried to make things as happy as possible for us, though, and we pulled crackers and told jokes as if it was a perfectly normal Christmas Day.

  ‘Dad and my grandmother did their best to be courteous to Mum, but I could sense their disgust over what she’d done. I suppose Lexie was too young to notice any sort of an atmosphere between the adults. Years later, I thought it was heartless that Dad hadn’t let us all stay in our own house that year, although there was hardly a stick of furniture in it so I suppose it would have been a pretty bleak Christmas. Plus, the betrayal was all a bit much for Dad. It turns out that Mum’s debt was huge as she’d been juggling credit cards each month until the payments had completely spiralled out of control.

  ‘Dad worked a seventy-hour week for months on end to pay off her debts, because he was too proud to file for bankruptcy, but their marriage didn’t survive. He told me years later that Mum had deceived him for so long that he couldn’t trust her any more. I think she broke his heart.’

  ‘Heartbreak is a terrible thing,’ Vangelis says quietly, nodding to me to continue.

  ‘Anyway, we moved into a rented flat with my mother after they split and a year or so later Mum met a man called Rex and we all moved in with him. He’d never been married and I think it was quite an adjustment for him having children around, but things were actually okay. He’s a nice enough man and he had a beautiful home in a good area so we settled in quickly. We never went without anything, as far as I can remember. But as long as I live I will never forget that Christmas when everything was taken away from us. So I guess maybe that’s why I don’t like the idea of lavishing so much money on a wedding. Or on anything, for that matter. I’d rather save than spend. Things in life can change in an instant.’

  It feels so strange to have been thinking about that story, while sitting here with Vangelis and looking out at the sea. This warm night couldn’t be more different from the snowy December day I have been describing, but still, thinking about it gives me a chill.

  Vangelis sits back in his chair and regards me closely. ‘But it was a different situation with your mother. She spent money that she did not have, living a false life. Your fiancé is successful in his work. Is there anything wrong in enjoying the fruits of your labour?’

  ‘The voice of reason, and you’re right, of course. There’s nothing wrong with enjoying your hard-earned money, I just don’t see the need to be excessive.’

  Max has put in long hours and worked hard for his money, but the thought of any sort of over-indulgence still leaves me feeling guilty and a little frightened.

  ‘If it is something that you feel so strongly about you should really tell your fiancé how you feel.’

  ‘I have tried, but he is just so generous that I don’t want to be a right old misery guts. I’m sure we’ll figure it out in the end.’ Though right now, I don’t for the life of me know how.

  ‘I’m sure you will too. Although if you like the idea of a small wedding, maybe you should go and see my mother.’

  Vangelis stands up and walks out onto to the balcony.

  I follow him outside. ‘Your mother?’ I ask in surprise.

  ‘Yes. Her name is Selena. She is a wedding registrar, although in her village she is simply known as “the wedding lady”. She conducts wedding ceremonies from her garden in the hills. It’s a beautiful place. Come over here.’

  I walk over to where he is standing.

  Vangelis points into the distance. ‘Her house is over there.’ He smiles, pointing west across the mountains. As he stands close to me, wrapped in the quiet of the night, I can smell his expensive musky aftershave. ‘Most of the weddings are for couples who have escaped.’

  ‘Escaped?’

  ‘Sorry, I mean…’ H
e taps his forehead.

  ‘Oh, eloped?’

  ‘Yes! Runaway weddings. There are no guests, only the happy couple and the witnesses. Guests are not strictly forbidden, of course, but usually it is just the bride and groom. My mother’s garden has an amazing view of the sea. Better than this one.’

  A wedding garden. The idea of an intimate ceremony bathed in sunshine high in the hills of Crete sounds so romantic. It is exactly what I pictured when Max proposed in that secluded restaurant up in the hills.

  ‘Is it very far to your mother’s house?’

  ‘Not far at all. The bus outside the hotel goes almost directly there. It is on the edge of Koutouloufari village.’

  ‘Koutouloufari? Really? I got engaged in a restaurant up there. It’s such a pretty village.’

  The memory of that occasion pops back into my head once more. I can hardly believe there is a wedding venue in a garden just a stone’s throw away from the place where Max and I got engaged.

  ‘Well, you cannot miss the house. You turn right at the end of the main street and it’s a short walk from there. It is painted in a soft pink. Everyone knows the wedding house.’

  ‘That is exactly the kind of wedding I would dream of.’ I sigh. ‘Just Max and me. I’m not sure how that would go down with the rest of the family though. Or even with Max. Maybe everyone would think me a little selfish.’

  I can imagine my mother’s reaction if I told her that Max and I were eloping and nobody was invited to the wedding. She’d probably never speak to me again.

  ‘And is your wedding about you or about everyone else?’ Vangelis turns to face me.

  There’s that voice of reason again.

  ‘I know what you mean, but I just think so many people would be genuinely disappointed if they didn’t see us get married. Especially my close friends and family, although a family member eloped a few years ago and, as far as I know, nobody fell out with them.’