Free Those Summer Nights (Corfu, Greek Island Romance) by Mandy Baggot

ago.
    Now he was looking at the drinks menu but not really seeing anything. His brain was churning up the conversation with the English couple who had bought the restaurant, his restaurant. Who did they think they were? Taking his inheritance from under his nose, conning his grandmother into parting with it. He’d wanted to say something right there and then, get mad, tell them they were out of line, but something had told him to wait.
    ‘Pano, your cousin is here!’
    Elpida’s voice sliced through his thoughts and he looked up to see his cousin, Risto, next to him.
    There was the boy he had spent the whole of his childhood with. He was sure it had been less than a year since they had seen each other but Risto looked different somehow. His dark curly head of hair was just the same but he was thinner, his skin wan. Finally he slid the wood and rattan chair backwards and got to his feet.
    ‘Risto,’ he said, embracing him, both hands slapping his back.
    ‘Pano.’
    Panos held his cousin away and regarded him again. Risto would always be the boy who had swung on the olive tree next to him. Then it struck him. Risto was wearing trousers and a smart white shirt not dissimilar to his, although obviously a poorer quality of cloth. Panos couldn’t remember Risto ever wearing anything but jeans or shorts unless there was a wedding.
    ‘You are going somewhere?’ Panos asked, pulling at the sleeve of his cousin’s shirt.
    Risto shifted away, looking a little embarrassed. He shook his head. ‘No.’
    ‘Pfft!’ Elpida said. ‘Why does there have to be a reason for Risto to wear something smart?’
    ‘Because before he was always covered in mud from working the fields,’ Panos remarked.
    The faces around him sobered instantaneously. Panos’ eyes went from Risto to Elpida and back again before he eventually sank to his seat and reached for the jug of water on the table, pouring himself a glass. ‘What’s going on?’ he asked.
    Risto moved to a chair next to Elpida and, as he sat down, Panos saw the woman pat her younger grandson’s hand.
    ‘Is anyone going to tell me?’ Panos asked impatiently.
    ‘We will order some strong drinks before we start talking,’ Elpida said, removing her packet of cigarettes from her handbag.
    ‘It wasn’t my fault, Pano,’ Risto began, his eyes dropping to the tablecloth.
    ‘Risto, wait,’ Elpida insisted. She put a cigarette into her mouth and lit it up, inhaling hard.
    Panos shook his head. ‘What is this, yiayia ? Some other shock to drop on me, like the restaurant you sold to an English couple?’
    ‘Aren’t they lovely?’ Elpida answered, blowing a cloud of smoke up into the air. ‘Very pretty girl, wasn’t she?’
    Panos shook his head and wet his lips. The woman’s beauty hadn’t been lost on him but neither had her sharp reply to his offer of help. And she had his restaurant. She and her husband were going to develop it right in front of his eyes.
    He cleared his throat and put a hand in the air, beckoning a waiter. ‘Spiros, some retsina here please?’
----
    T hirty minutes or so later the retsina had coated his throat with its sap-like qualities and he was ready to about turn and head back to the airport. This was not what he had come for. He had come to get back the restaurant and make plans to purchase every other eatery along the sand he could get his hands on.
    ‘Say something, Panos, please,’ Risto begged.
    He toyed with his glass, running his finger around the rim, eyes fixed on the honey-coloured liquid inside. He didn’t know what to say. He thought the Greek crisis was something that had only really affected the mainland, Athens. To think that it was touching this island – his own family – that Risto hadn’t worked for almost a year. He could feel two sets of eyes burning holes into the top of his head. Why had Elpida not given him a head’s up about this on the phone?
    ‘The boy needs our help.’
    ‘Well, yiayia, the first question I have