My Big Fat Christmas Wedding (3 page)

Niko sat more upright.

‘We could put up a tent and decorate the inside with fake snow and logs. Cosmo could dress up as St Nicholas and hand out presents to children.’

Niko chuckled. ‘Perfect. He is great with little ones who go to his bicycle shop with flat tyres.’

‘Demetrios could take a cut of the profit if he provided cheap pottery items to put into the gift bags.’ As ideas spilled out of my mouth, Niko’s smile became lopsided.

‘It’s great, my inventive Pippa. A unique twist on the usual Christmas market, no? But whether it is enough to make a difference…’ He stared out to sea. ‘I no recognise my country any more. Yes, the sea swells. The sun shines. But people’s hearts no longer sing. Their eyes dull.’

I tried to imagine this country’s turmoil happening back in England, and my chest squeezed.

‘Why don’t we hold a meeting in the taverna tomorrow evening and see what the villagers think?’ I said gently.

He turned and stared deep into my eyes for a moment. ‘You right. And we need to work out the number of stalls, where to pitch them, how to cost products, promote our local theme, what to do if it rains…’

I hugged him. It was great to brainstorm a project, just like I used to, on a daily basis, back in London. Don’t get me wrong, I loved running the teashop and expanding the business, but my mathematical mind kind of flexed occasionally, as if asking for more challenging equations to solve. Whereas my ex, Henrik, and I would talk late into the night about stockmarket price fluctuations and sell-offs, Niko was often too tired for much chat after a day out at sea, although…my stomach fluttered…he often found renewed energy once we slipped between the sheets, his kisses as light as snowflakes falling on every centimetre of my—

‘We must circulate flyers to attract the tourists in Kos Town,’ I suggested. Best to keep some memories about Niko to myself!

‘Flyers? Strange word, dear Pippa,’ said a deep voice. Georgios’ bald head appeared from the distance. With his generous eyebrows and moustache he took on an almost werewolf appearance in the dim light. He yawned and tightened his scarf – hand-knitted by Grandma of course. Ooh, she could knit a range of winter wear for the market and… I took a deep breath. Okay. With only three weeks to go, my plans had to stay realistic.

‘Papa? Everything okay?’ said Niko and brushed sand off the back of his trousers.

Georgios pulled down his woollen hat. ‘Very. Your mother so happy that the Marine Museum building work is finally showing real signs of progressing, with the foundations finished today. Now she in one of her ouzo moods.’

We laughed. Sophia didn’t drink much and it only took a couple of those liquorice drinks to bring out her creative side – in other words some sharp dance moves.

‘I’ve come to call you in,’ he said and rubbed his hands together. ‘It is unusually cold this evening, no?’

‘We are in our twenties – not twelve!’ Playfully Niko lifted his arms into the air. ‘You don’t need to fetch us home.’

Despite the chilly air, warmth surged through my limbs as the men clapped each other’s shoulders. Family values meant everything in this village and made up for the lack of fashion stores, cinemas and gyms and…okay. I admit it – after four months now on the island, just sometimes I missed my old life. In the summer, Taxos hadn’t seemed so utterly different to busy London, due to chatting villagers out in the sun, along with the soundtrack of mopeds, braying donkeys and cicadas, plus shop owners and fishermen shouting to one another. But in the quiet winter, and despite the more dynamic atmosphere of nearby Kos Town, my thoughts occasionally focused on what I’d left behind. A sigh escaped my lips – like the eclectic London architecture, the adrenaline-fuelled pace of city life, with its tube trains, black taxis and red buses. I also missed spontaneous spending, Niko was loath to accept help from my savings. I’d longed to travel just to Athens last month, for a famous harvest festival, but could tell Niko was worried about the expense with Christmas and our wedding looming. He knew better than to try to tell me what to do – and vice versa. I’d still bought that new winter jacket last month and he’d ignored me last week when I said the sea was too rough for him to go out. Yet lately I’d sensed an undercurrent of…of something deeper dividing us.

I inhaled. Honestly, talk about wedding nerves. Everything would be fine! I linked arms with both men and we trudged across the sand. An owl hooted. Mmm. Nothing beat the smell of those briny waves, laced with wood smoke lingering from the barbecue. How could I be so silly, to miss the musty smell of the underground and exhaust-fume fragranced London pavements?

‘The market sounds like a good idea,’ said Georgios. ‘Perhaps everything look up a little, now. Word is, ThinkBig Development pushes for the Marine Museum project to be finished as quickly as possible.’ He turned to me. ‘In fact, tonight Stavros said he’d just received a text message from your old friend Henrik.’

For some reason my pulse rate increased.

‘Henrik flies over tomorrow, to make a report for ThinkBig on the next stage of development. He and Stavros will meet for lunch, to catch up.’

‘Great,’ I said, voice shrill at this unexpected mention of my ex.

The six-foot-four height, oat-coloured hair, those crinkly slate eyes – at one time all those things would have put a silly grin on my face.

Georgios turned up his collar with his free hand. ‘He is only here for two days, so I doubt we will see him.’ He chuckled. ‘And I was looking forward to getting him happy, happy on retsina again.’

My Greek family-to-be amazed me – how little propensity they had to hold a grudge. After all, only a few months ago, Henrik had arrived here all set on turning Taxos into some character-less, concrete holiday location. At least he’d finally seen the sense to back down – and accept me and Niko as a couple.

Gosh. Henrik here? I’d only seen him once since our break-up. I pulled Niko closer, as if to protect myself from any…any inappropriate feelings that might still linger. Goodness knows why, I mean honestly… I had no particular desire to see my ex again. None whatsoever.

However as Georgios and Niko laughed amiably about Sophia again, why did I suddenly experience a fizzing sensation in my chest? More likely it was because my brain twitched and a zillion questions jumped into my head that I would ask him about mutual friends, plus our favourite city spots at Christmas, his job, the latest stockmarket figures…everything that, back in London, used to turn me on.

Chapter Two

The palm of my hand ran over the smooth surface, fingers trailing across tasty contours. Was there anything more sensuous than firm, creamy scone dough, rolled out, its bumps of coloured ingredients promising bursts of different flavours?

Okay – Niko’s chest might come a close second, taut from hauling fishing boats onto the beach. My mind filled, for a moment, with an image of the way his mouth would quirk up on one side, as if daring me to kiss the corner, although, truth be told, my knees became more wobbly at the sound of his crazily caring, Greekish tones – especially when he teased me if my baklava came out of the oven drier than a beached bunch of seaweed. There were several local dishes that still got the better of me.

Humming, I picked up the circular scone cutter. In a couple of hours the taverna would buzz with villagers, here to discuss my Christmas market idea. We’d set a meeting for late afternoon, after Saturday trade had finished. I’d already made cranberry and white chocolate scones to test out. This batch boasted festive sage and onion, plus a handful of chopped walnuts (my secret ingredient for a great British stuffing recipe).

Mmm. What a taste-bud seducing smell. Cue happy memories from Christmases past, even though Mum and Dad were never far from their smartphones and we usually ate out in a swanky restaurant. More than once I’d wished to spend the day at home, the three of us basting the turkey. I’d never seen the Queen’s speech, nor eagerly searched for chocolates on a Christmas tree. My busy parents would simply pull a ready-decorated pop-up one out of the loft.

My lips upturned. That’s why this Christmas was going to be really special. Just like the one from my childhood when we visited Taxos. Georgios and Sophia had insisted that we join their family celebrations. What fun, with everyone mucking in with cooking and washing up, before playing cards. Georgios even got Dad dancing, after they’d shared a carafe of red wine. We’d enjoyed board games whilst snacking on pomegranates and nuts. Mandarins and fairy lights added sparkle and colour to every room. Late evening, Niko and I had snuck off to the beach with torches and hidden in a boat to scoff a secret midnight feast.

‘Those Christmas cookies were yummy,’ I said, still reminiscing, a few hours later, as villagers arrived.

Niko chuckled. ‘I could hardly see what I was eating as we pulled the tarpaulin over us to keep warm.

‘I pushed it off quick enough when that slimy frog jumped into my lap.’

Harmonica in one hand, Cosmo strode in. He embraced us before sniffing loudly.

‘
Ya sou
, talented Pippa. What scone recipe do you please us with today?’

‘Guess,’ I said, as potter Demetrios came over, shook Niko’s hand and kissed me on both cheeks. The two men breathed in deeply.

‘Tea?’ said Cosmo, brow furrowed.

I shook my head. ‘Not a bad attempt, though.’ Sage was an ingredient of a favourite hot Greek beverage.

‘Asapargus and walnut?’ said Demetrios, who had taken off his scarf to reveal one of his signature brightly coloured cravats – today’s was lagoon-blue.

‘Close,’ I said and took a plate from passing Sophia. I offered the men the sage and onion scones. ‘They are stuffing flavour,’ I announced.

‘Huh?’ they said, in unison.

‘What this stuffing?’ said Cosmo, tired eyes a-twinkle. ‘Stuffing is a material to fill cushions and soft toys, no? Whereas this has…mmm…real flavour.’

Someone tugged at my elbow and I looked down – it was Theo, the eldest son of the Dellis farmers. In one hand he clutched a Nintendo. Almost out of primary school, he spoke a few words of English.

‘White chocolate good, Pippa,’ he said, flecks of cranberry around his mouth.

I ruffled his wavy locks and bent down to explain, in my best Greek, that I’d put two aside in the kitchen for him and his little brother to take home. Puzzlement crossed his face, so Niko quickly translated. I might have been missing mathematical problems to solve, but linguistically I’d never felt more challenged.

From behind, a small hand fiddled with my hair.

‘Honey dumpling!’ I said (sounding like an old Greek mama for a moment) and spun around. Sure enough it was the toddler girl from a few doors down, in her mum’s arms.

‘Pip…Pip…’ the two-year-old managed and leant out to grab my cheek. I gave a wide grin. Ever since she’d first seen me, this little tot had been obsessed with my red hair and freckles.

Across the room, Niko welcomed villagers. My heart swelled as he shook hands and clapped shoulders. Sophia caught my eye and nodded. It was time to call everyone to attention. However, a grape-like smell distracted me – Grandma’s favourite perfume. She’d appeared at my right side, a floral scarf tying back her wispy grey hair.

‘I just hear the news, Pippa.’ She slipped an arm around my waist. ‘Your Henrik – back in Taxos.’

‘He’s not
my
Henrik any more.’

Crepey skin around Grandma’s cinnamon eyes crinkled. ‘The ladies of the village will be pleased that their
Gigantes
has returned.’ She gave one of her gap-toothed smiles.

With his Titan height, half-Dutch Henrik had made quite an impact this year. His easy charm, coupled with the suave clothes and Atlas shoulders, had only fuelled the local girls’ crushes.

Grandma stared at me. ‘Must be strange for you – seeing a friend from home after all this time.’

‘Not really,’ I said, my voice coming out in some sort of squeak. ‘He hasn’t texted to meet up. But then we haven’t spoken at all for the last few months.’

She studied my face. ‘Of course. Henrik is now part of your past.’

Did she really believe that? Over the years Grandma had been my greatest confidante in the summers, listening to my worries about school. She always knew when something was bothering me. Not that anything was today. Any sort of relationship between me and Henrik was well over. She squeezed me before pulling away her arm.

‘Have you been reading coffee sediment again, Grandma?’ I said and grinned. ‘Perhaps Henrik will marry one of his Greek fan-girls?’

‘Never joke about the coffee sediment,’ she said. ‘Didn’t it tell you last week that a new pair of shoes will bring you good luck?’ Grandma gazed down at my shiny ankle boots, picked up last weekend in Kos Town. ‘Today is the first time you wear them and I think your Christmas idea – it’s going to go down well.’

I kissed her forehead and glanced across the room at Sophia who nodded again. Loudly, I cleared my throat.

‘Thanks for coming, everyone, it’s appreciated.’

A few people still chatted. Grandma tutted and clapped her hands. Georgios stood ready at the back to translate for the villagers who couldn’t speak much English.

‘Right…so…I have a suggestion on how we can boost our income over the Christmas period.’

‘Go, Pippa!’ called Pandora and unbuttoned her stylish, red winter coat. ‘Your ideas are always the best.’

Murmurs of agreement echoed around the room and my ears burned.

‘Any plan would be most welcome,’ murmured Mrs Dellis. ‘Our pickle and cheese sales are down. Praise God that this time next year, visitors to the Maritime Museum will have big appetites for local wares.’

I smoothed down my apron, as Apollo the cat promptly sank onto one of my feet. ‘Okay…here goes – how about we hold a Christmas market with a difference? From the twenty-sixth of December to the lunchtime of the twenty-ninth – my and Niko’s wedding day. A market to offer tourists and islanders a different shopping experience to the annual one in Kos Town.’

Shoulders slumped and several heads lowered.

‘A market?’ said Cosmo, eventually, and ran his harmonica across his lips, without blowing. ‘How exactly would it stand out?’