My Big Fat Christmas Wedding (16 page)

My throat constricted. I’d been waiting for this moment and still didn’t know what to say.

‘We argued – about money – again. Then before we knew it…’ I shrugged. ‘Things got out of hand.’

‘Niko hasn’t said much.’ Strands of greying hair hung down from her bun. The dark shadows circling her eyes looked deeper than ever.

‘We’ll make up,’ I said and forced my voice to sound bright. ‘In fact, on the flight over, I came up with a plan to sort out our problems. I can’t wait to tell Niko.’ My eyes returned to his face – the lush eyelashes; the small scar just above his mouth that I longed to kiss.

‘Pippitsa – you look shattered after your flight and then this. Why not go back to the taverna and catch up on some sleep?’

I shook my head. Sophia looked at me intently. ‘I’m sorry, no easy way to say this, but I’m not sure that Niko wants you here when he wakes.’

I raised my eyebrows, throat now dry. ‘It was just another of our arguments,’ I repeated. ‘He knows that.’

Her eyes glistened. ‘Niko so angry, Pippa, when he got home. I know him and what his silence means.’ She sighed. ‘And you’re going to be ill too, if you don’t take a break. At least walk outside. Get fresh air.’ She pulled a face. ‘Bring back three proper coffees. Perhaps we’ll drink them with some of Pandora’s cake.’

I paused and then lifted Niko’s hand to my mouth. Breathing in his musky scent, I pressed my lips against his skin. I would leave, but only because Sophia looked worn out and could no doubt do with a quality shot of caffeine. The nurses did their best but had no extra time to look after relatives. I walked around the bed and gave Sophia a hug. Georgios woke up and I kissed his cheek.

Then I left, giving a small smile to the man at the next bed. His partner had a deep scratch across her forehead. I couldn’t tell which Middle Eastern country they came from exactly. The man stood up and jerked his head towards Niko.

‘That man saved my friend,’ he said. ‘I hope he okay.’

His bedridden partner reached up and mumbled something I couldn’t understand. He nodded, picked up her handbag from the small table next to the bed and passed it over. She retrieved something silver from her wallet. He placed it into my palm. I gazed at the small charm, in the shape of a hand with a blue evil eye in the middle. Gently, the man wrapped my fingers around it.

‘Back in Syria this is a symbol of good luck,’ he said. ‘We wish you to have it. This amulet will ward off bad things. Your husband will get better.’

‘Thank you so much,’ I said, not wanting to explain that Niko and I weren’t actually married. Because we would be. In five days. Niko and I just needed an honest chat. ‘You are very kind.’

I wished Sophie had been right – that the fresh December air would revitalise me – but I returned to the hospital with not only three strong coffees, but a heavy heart. As Niko’s mother, she knew him inside and out. If Sophia thought he wouldn’t want me there on waking then…as I headed back to the ward, my chest hurt. Thoughts returned that sent icy shivers up my spine. What if I never got the chance to tell him, once more, how much I loved him; how the trip to London had given me the perspective I’d needed to realise that loyal, selfless, sexy-as-hell Niko was the most special man on the planet?

Trying to control the welling sob in my throat, the amulet firmly pushed down into my trouser pocket, I hurried down the long corridor leading to his ward. Balancing the coffee tray in one hand, I pushed open swing doors with the other. My stomach lurched. A doctor in a white coat stood by his bedside. Almost dropping my coffee carrier, I strode over. Sophia was crying. I gulped down big breaths, so as not to show my panic. I had to be strong for Niko’s parents.

‘Is everything okay?’ I mumbled, tearing up despite my best efforts. Georgios took the drinks and placed them on his seat. I stared at Niko. He stared back. Thank God his eyes were open.

Sophia sniffed. ‘Yes, I cry with happiness, Pippitsa. My son is back with us. The doctors listen to his heart – everything okay.’

‘The X-rays are fine,’ said Georgios in a gruff voice and slipped an arm around my shoulder. ‘They don’t think the bump on his head is significant. Probably he can come home tomorrow.’

‘That’s the best Christmas present ever,’ I mumbled and mouthed “
Efharisto
” to the doctor, as she filled in a chart and left. The rock-hard sensation in my stomach turned to mush.

I looked at Niko again, but he didn’t smile. In fact…oh no. He turned away.

‘Just give him a bit of time,’ whispered Sophia and returned to her son’s side. I picked up my coffee and sat in Georgios’ seat, as he sat in mine. The three of them spoke in Greek. Sophia and Georgios laughed. Niko must have made a joke. That was good. An hour or so later, the Syrian husband stood up, holding a packet of cigarettes. No doubt he was going outside. I retrieved the lucky charm from my pocket and went over. I kissed it before stretching out my hand, to give it back.

‘Thank you so much,’ I said. ‘Niko will be fine and should come home tomorrow.’

The couple spoke rapidly to each other in their mother tongue and then shook their heads. ‘You keep it,’ said the man. ‘We have all the luck we need. Difficult times still face us, but nothing as difficult as we have already experienced.’

With a smile, I shook their hands and returned to my seat. However, Sophia stood up and indicated for me to take hers. She caught Georgios’ eye.

‘Um, we could do with some fresh air too,’ she said.

Georgios duly stood up. ‘Of course we could, my little meatball.’ He winked at me. ‘We leave you two youngsters to chat.’

‘I don’t want to tire him,’ I mumbled, suddenly afraid of what Niko might say.

‘It is okay,’ said Sophia. ‘As long as he keeps drinking. Just call the nurses immediately, if he complains of a headache or feels sick.’

I stood up, stomach feeling hard again. When I sat down on Niko’s left and took his hand, he didn’t squeeze it back.

‘Niko.’ My voice broke. ‘I’m so glad you’re okay. These last hours have been the worst of my life. If anything had happened to you…’ My voice cracked.

‘Why are you here, Pippa?’ he said, staring at the ceiling.

‘Because Taxos is my home.’

His head moved and he gazed straight at me. ‘But there are no black cabs or fancy parties here,’ he said, in a measured voice. ‘Go get some sleep, Pippa. You look tired. Then fly back to London – to Henrik. We both know you don’t belong here.’

‘Don’t talk like this. We’ve just had a silly argument,’ I said, rambling a little. ‘Look, I’m sorry, about London and for moaning about money, but I’ve worked it out – why I’ve been feeling dissatisfied, and it’s nothing to do with you or Henrik or the Greek economy.’

Eyes showing not the smallest flicker of interest, he merely raised one eyebrow.

‘The teashop – supplying scones to Creami-Kos, it was challenging at first but has quickly become routine. You’ve got to understand, Niko – I’ve spent my whole life, from high school through to university, and then in my job, solving mathematical equations…solving problems on an intellectual level. To be happy, I could be living on a celestial cloud or in a dustbin – it doesn’t matter, as long as my brain is flexing. And when running the teashop felt too easy, I mistook that dissatisfaction for unhappiness with the austere way of Kos life.’ I sighed. ‘Oh Niko, I missed Taxos – the mountains, the fresh air and salty breeze. Yes, I’ll always love London, but live there? Without you, fresh olives and ouzo?’ I attempted a smile. ‘Never.’

‘But I am no intellectual, Pippa. I am a down-to-earth man. My talents are of a more practical nature. Will I…will the Taxos life ever be enough for you?’

I stood up to pace around the bed. ‘Intellectual was a bad choice of word. I’m just talking about…about the things, on a professional level, that excite my mind.’

Niko shrugged. ‘You are lucky to have had that stimulation, all these years, and to have chosen a career that will give it to you. Most people just take any job they can get, to pay the bills.’

My cheeks burned. ‘I know. But I can’t change who I am – or the advantages I’ve enjoyed.’ I sighed and tried again. ‘It’s like…even if you’d gone to university, I reckon you’d still be wired to be fascinated by the practical stuff, like your fishing. Take me – I love baking scones and yes, the afternoon teashop was a dream. But I’ve realised that dreams are fiction and in reality, I need something more – another project that exploits my financial skills. That’s what I’m wired to and it’s not better or worse than you, it’s just different.’ I stopped pacing and sat down again. ‘I’ve come up with a plan that is going to be good for me
and
the community.’

‘Olivia’s far too good for Henrik,’ muttered Niko, as if he hadn’t heard a word.

‘They’ve broken up,’ I said quietly. ‘She realised he didn’t love her – not in the way he should. She realised the two of them had no future together – not one that would work.’

‘And that’s how
I
feel, Pippa. Will you ever truly satisfy that intellectual restlessness here? Perhaps it would be best for both of us – long-term – to…’ His voice went rusty. ‘…to call off the wedding.’

I gasped.

‘Go back to your London life. Perhaps it is not too late for you and Henrik.’

‘Henrik?’ My eyes widened and vigorously I shook my head. ‘Niko – you are the first and the last man to ever truly own my heart. Anyway, Henrik is moving – to Dubai,’ I said, as if that made any difference.

‘Perhaps that would suit you better. The fancy beaches…designer lifestyle…the professional opportunities.’

My eyes pricked. Niko must have been in shock. Last night he’d almost lost his life and now his thoughts weren’t rational.

‘We can’t call the wedding off, anyway,’ I said, forcing a cheery voice. ‘Imagine the uproar in the village? All the work that’s gone into giving us a special day?’

Niko’s eyelids drooped. ‘I’m tired. No ceremony, Pippa – we cancel the church. And I can’t face talking about this when I come out tomorrow. Move out to your parents’ villa.’

‘But they’re arriving on Thursday for the wedding. What will I tell them? And the drains are not working properly, plus I need to bake scones and that will be much easier using the taverna’s professional equipment. But most importantly, Niko…you and me…we can’t be apart at this most special time of year.’

‘It’s not a long walk from the taverna,’ he said quietly, eyes closing. ‘You can visit if you need to borrow the shower. And the villa’s kitchen is adequate.’

‘Niko! Stop being like this! Enough of the practicalities! Talk to me. I love you. Please. Don’t call the wedding off! When I thought you’d be drowned…’ I had to stop talking to prevent dissolving into a fit of sobs.

‘Yes, and when I thought I’d drowned it made me realise marriage, it is the key to my future – the biggest decision I will ever make. It needs to be right.’ He sighed. ‘Pippa. Move out. Please. It is for the best.’

My chest constricted so tightly I almost couldn’t breathe. ‘Okay. If that’s what you want – I won’t be there when you get home. But nothing’s going to stop me marrying you, Niko Sotiropoulos. That bump on your head – it’s skewed your sense of reason. I won’t be telling anyone about your decision….you…you’ll feel differently tomorrow.’

‘Perhaps the bump knocked sense into me,’ he murmured.

No, said a forlorn voice in my head. I love you and your quirky smile and your ever enticing, dancing eyes. I love Grandma’s feisty stares and Georgio’s bushy eyebrows. Plus how would I survive without Pandora’s luscious baklava and Cosmo’s harmonica tunes? Nor could I leave behind chocolate box sunsets and the comforting song of the cicadas. ‘Oh, Niko…’ Damn that Greek pride.

With a deep breath I stood up and somehow made my way out of the ward, along the corridor and outside. Darkness approached and buildings opposite were lit up with Christmas fairy lights. A group of children hurried past, led by a woman wearing a red woolly hat. With twinkling eyes, they sang carols, plus banged triangles and drums. Each child also carried a gold-painted model boat, filled with coins and nuts given by people they’d sung to. They stopped near me and started a new song. My bottom lip quivered and the woman in the red hat shushed the children and moved them on.

I slumped onto a bench and held my head in my hands, forcing my palms against my eyes in a vain attempt to stem a stream of tears. Smells of baking lamb from nearby houses wafted my way. The door to a taverna opposite must have suddenly opened as a burst of laughter and string music shot into the air. An image of the smiling Syrian couple came into my mind and I took the charm out of my trouser pocket.

How far it had travelled, across war zones on land and a perilous ocean, yet all that while its owners had never lost faith in this amulet. Perhaps it really would bring luck to me.

I was still staring at it half an hour later, shivering due to the Christmas Eve air. Night had fallen and from a distance, fireworks shot into the ebony sky. I put the charm back in my pocket. Come on, Pippa Pattinson. You are not a woman to give up. I wiped my eyes, straightened and took some deep breaths.

Even if not yet in name, I felt part of the Sotiropoulos family. That meant doing my best in a bad situation and fighting until the end. If they could rail against economic hardship and Grandma’s cancer earlier this year, then I could face and deal with this romantic hiccough.

Graphs, pie charts and equations flickered across my mind as I thought over the plan I’d come up with, whilst flying back to the Aegean. The plan that would prove to Niko that I belonged here in Taxos – with him. I reached into my handbag and took out a business card. The name at the top read “Olivia O’Connor”. Dare I phone her up?

Chapter Thirteen

Oh my word. What a culinary feast. We’re talking goose stuffed with lamb, celery pork, cheese pastries and stuffed cabbage – followed by walnut and almond cookies, macaroons and ginger and fig baklava. I didn’t yearn for a single slice of turkey or mouthful of mince pie. Christmas lunch at the taverna left my taste buds reeling and me feeling as bloated as a puffer fish.

Georgios and Sophia were picking up Niko from the hospital that afternoon. I’d made my excuses to move out to my parents’ villa, saying I had tens of scones to bake for the fair – plus how it would be more traditional for me not to live in the same house as the groom, in the run-up to the wedding… Okay. Both ridiculous reasons on Christmas Day, but no one objected. In fact, at my announcement silence reigned. No one even mentioned the drains. My stomach twisted. Perhaps Niko had said something on the phone this morning, when they rang to wish him Happy Christmas. I left his parents washing up, Sophia in one of her ouzo moods and Georgios’ hips swivelling to catchy string music. All good – except their eyes looked a little too twinkly and no one had dared mention the wedding.