My Big Fat Christmas Wedding (9 page)

However, my mind filled with imaginary pictures, not real ones of parked planes and baggage carts. Images, that is, of Henrik – and Olivia. They would meet us in a few minutes. He’d insisted on driving us to our budget hotel that was only a short way from the fancy party venue. I’d wanted to stay at Hamilton Lodge, where the event was to take place, but Niko had already searched online for the cheapest hotel he could find.

And he was right. Spending money unnecessarily was senseless – even if this was likely to be my last trip out of Taxos for a while. My mind drifted back to Henrik and the spa weekends we used to enjoy. Despite his Dutch money-pinching ways, he knew the importance of an occasional splurge. I recalled his last text. What could be the important thing he wanted to talk to me about? My mind had imagined all sorts over the last couple of weeks. I’d hinted that I missed the executive life – perhaps ThinkBig was going to offer me a job in their Kos office.

Not that I’d accept – my heart really was in baking scones. I just needed an extra challenge to undertake alongside the teashop. Still…my stomach fluttered slightly by the time we disembarked and collected our luggage. As we strode through Departures, pulling our bags on wheels, I gave Niko a smile. Amongst the array of European travellers, disembarked from other aeroplanes, his exotic looks stood out.

Impatiently, I scoured the crowd of people waiting to greet loved ones travelling from abroad. Of course Henrik was easy to pick out with his height and looking great in beige chinos and a brown suede coat and…a petite, manicured hand in his. It belonged to…goodness. The most doll-like woman you could think up. She can’t have been much more than five foot two, with a slim build stylishly dressed in grey jeans and a cream leather jacket. With porcelain-white skin and long raven hair, I could see why Henrik had fallen for her charms. All at once I felt frumpish in my trouser suit and lambswool coat. What had I been thinking? My outfit shouted stuffy boardroom, not fun break.

‘Pippa! Niko!’ Henrik stepped forward and kissed me on the cheek. He and Niko shook hands. Like pools of the prettiest seaweed, Olivia had such green eyes. I tried to read them – was she genuinely pleased to see me or on guard?

She stood coyly by his side and I couldn’t help imagining them, well, you know. She was such a stereotypically feminine-looking creature, unlike five foot ten, gawky flame-haired me.

I cleared my throat. Honestly. Where had all these insecurities sprung from? They’d not even existed at school, where I’d out-glare anyone who called me Carrot Top and loved being tall enough to get away with eating more sweets than my shorter girlfriends.

‘You must be Olivia,’ I said, before Henrik had a chance to introduce us. ‘It’s an absolute pleasure to meet you. Congratulations on your engagement. Thanks so much for inviting us to the party.’

For a split second she looked at me and then her mouth twitched. It upturned. Her whole face brightened with the warmest smile and, ignoring my outstretched hand, she darted forward to reach up for a hug.

‘Olivia O’Connor.’ She bowed her head slightly. ‘How lovely to meet you too! I’ve heard so much about how you’ve helped Taxos. And Niko…’ Cue another big hug, this time for my fiancé. Then she stood back and beamed at us both. ‘I want to hear all about how the village is doing now. Ah, the Greek islands are so romantic, like in one of my favourite films,
Shirley Valentine
.’

Niko and I smiled at each other. Private joke. I once compared him to Costas, that movie’s flirtatious Greek waiter.

Playfully she punched Henrik’s arm. ‘I’m so glad Pippa managed to thwart your beloved ThinkBig’s plans to transform such a quaint-sounding location.’

‘Gah, my mum loves those cheesy old films,’ I said and pulled a face. Cue blushes. ‘I mean…’

Talk about an infectious laugh. ‘Don’t worry – my musical and film favourites are firmly stuck in the Eighties,’ said Olivia. ‘I’m used to insults – my middle-aged tastes drive Henrik mad.’

‘I was brought up on
Flashdance
and
Footloose
,’ I said.

Henrik groaned. ‘Ladies, enough with the nostalgia. Let’s go and get a twenty-first century coffee before we hit the road – hopefully in a cafeteria with a modern soundtrack.’

Olivia linked arms with me, as Henrik and Niko strode ahead, discussing the weather. ‘So how do you find it? Running a teashop instead of a team of bankers?’ she asked. ‘And by the way, I love that trouser suit. You must tell me where you got it from.’

I strained to hear a sarcastic tone or to spot a hint of insincerity in that face, but her smile came from the heart. And as time drinking two lattes in the airport coffee shop passed, I liked Olivia even more. She wanted to hear all about the wedding and filled me in on all the latest news in Britain. I found myself telling her about how I was still adapting to village life – how sometimes I longed to browse around an English bookshop or buy food from M&S.

‘So which charity do you work for?’ I said as she finally let me ask about her. Olivia cut the second chocolate cupcake in half that we’d decided to share.

‘Games mean Gains,’ she said and bit into the crumbly sponge. ‘It’s a kids’ charity I set up – helping children from deprived areas improve their lives through sport.’

‘Sounds very worthwhile,’ said Niko, seeming to take advantage of a lull in his conversation with Henrik. I’d caught snippets of my ex rambling on about mortgage rates. ‘My cousin and uncle run a football team for children back in Taxos,’ he continued. ‘The last few years we’ve not had much money to spend on leisure facilities, so we do what we can to keep youngsters out of trouble.’

‘Like Demetrios’ free pottery lessons for local children during the holidays,’ I said and grinned.

Niko chuckled. ‘Yes, our friend learnt an important lesson – never trust teenager boys with clay. They will produce, um…’

‘Let’s just say some X-rated work,’ I mumbled and everyone laughed.

‘Games means Gains is a cause very close to Olivia’s heart,’ said Henrik. ‘And she’s a fearsome fundraiser – don’t be fooled by her appearance. Behind that kitten face is a tigress’ heart!’

My
heart squeezed just a tiny bit as his chest puffed out with pride. Henrik used to look like that when he spoke about my career. Whereas with Niko the word career wasn’t talked about; the teashop was a job with day to day targets, not long-term goals, just like his fishing.

Olivia smiled. ‘Yes, when it comes to my job, I take no prisoners. I grew up on an impoverished estate and know the effect too much free time has on teenagers. Drugs and cider were king where I lived, instead of outdoor parks or youth clubs. That’s why I was determined to do something about it.’

Niko’s brow furrowed. ‘Prisoners? You work with young criminals?’

‘No, mate.’ Henrik clapped him on the back. ‘It’s just an expression – means that she’ll do anything to achieve her goals.’

Olivia beamed at Niko. ‘You speak wonderful English. I am utterly talentless in the language department.’

Could Olivia be any more perfect, now putting Niko at ease after his misunderstanding? Wasn’t that just the worst thing in the world – actually liking the person your ex next goes out with next? Because it makes you question everything about yourself. Was I kind enough? Funny? Intellectually stimulating? Right down to the very pathetic, did my skin glow like hers? Is my bottom bigger?

She and I chatted further about her fundraising work. How she’d originally got sponsors on board. How the organisation grew to the point where she could employ help, then eventually merit a loan to build brand new premises and a coach to take local children to sports events.

‘Here,’ she said and delved into her handbag. ‘Take my card. If you ever need any of my expertise, I’ve worked my way up from the ground level. And how about a Pippa’s Pantry card for me – who knows, one day I might visit Taxos.’

My cheeks tinged pink. ‘I haven’t had stationery made up, but thanks for the idea. I’ll at least need flyers made up, to hand around, before next year’s hoped-for influx of tourists.’

‘Adorable, isn’t she?’ said Henrik, as we left the airport and walked ahead of our partners, to the car park. A whoosh of cold ran down my back. Apparently a sprinkling of snow had been forecast. I stopped for a second and slipped on my gloves. Even though the car park wasn’t in the open air, the English winter chill was certainly making itself felt, through its unheated walls.

‘Utterly,’ I replied and glanced up at him. Henrik sounded as if he were talking about a pet dog. ‘She has this knack of making you tell her things you normally wouldn’t tell acquaintances.’

He nodded. ‘Olivia is a confidante to many people. She rallies around friends and causes. Plus speaks how she feels and tackles problems head-on.’

‘How did you two meet?’ I gave a wry smile. ‘I’m assuming not at some charity event.’

‘No. Believe it or not, through Mother.’

My face glazed over. Bravo moi for not pulling a face. Greta was an…interesting woman. Very possessive of her son and a naturist to boot. Nothing wrong with the latter, of course – unless you invite your son’s girlfriend around for drinks and open the door wearing nothing but an apron before daring to turn around.

I studied his face, glad he found someone he wanted to spend his life with. It had been hard in the summer, seeing his disappointment and hurt when I’d rejected his proposal.

‘They get on, then?’ I said.

‘Very much so. Olivia had moved in next door to her.’ He ran a hand through his styled hair. ‘They both love gin and gardening, plus romcom movies. Olivia spotted Mother struggling with some pruning one day, and offered to help. Then Mother helped Olivia decorate her new house.’

Well, that was the cherry on the cake, in terms of his fiancée’s perfection. ‘Where do her family live?’ I asked as we walked around a blue car.

‘Her parents, North London way – her sister Lisette, not far from us.’ He shook his head. ‘You’ll meet them tonight. Lisette is quite a character. A pensions advisor during the day but boy, does she know how to let her hair down.’

‘Is she married?’

Henrik snorted. ‘Nope. And I can’t see her settling for a while.’

‘What do Olivia’s parents think of this engagement?’

‘They’re happy. Her dad’s a decent sort. We’ve been out a few times for a pint and darts.’

My mouth twitched. Henrik? Beer and darts?

‘What?’ he said, as I spied his shiny white Range Rover.

‘It’s just…you’re more of a gin and golf guy, aren’t you?’

Henrik’s face flushed. ‘Being with Olivia has done me good – made me realise I was a little…uptight before. I don’t iron my socks and underwear any more.’

I gasped. ‘Well, she’s achieved more than I ever could. Your fiancée really must be the ideal partner.’ We reached his car and both of us turned around. It looked like Olivia and Niko were helping a woman. ‘Hmm, that lady looks lost, and who could blame her?’ I said. ‘I don’t know how anyone finds their vehicle easily in an airport car park.’

‘She isn’t,’ muttered Henrik and gently lifted my chin so that our eyes met.

‘What? That woman isn’t lost? I think she is – I can hear her thanking them.’

Henrik opened his mouth and then shut it again, as Olivia and Niko finally headed our way. Henrik bit his lip, took out his keys.

Chapter Seven

‘Are you serious? In this dress?’ I gazed at Niko.

He shrugged and loosened his starched white collar. ‘But why would you waste your hard-saved money on a taxi, Pippa? I thought the whole point of booking a hotel fairly near was so that we could just take the underground train.’

‘It won’t cost that much and this silk could be ruined on public transport…’ I cast an eye down the sapphire material, cinched in at the waist, flowing down to my ankles. It was sleeveless with a V-neck. ‘And I’ll be freezing. Have you seen the snow out there?’

The “smattering” Henrik forecast had morphed into a substantial flurry.

‘But it’s the quick hour. Roads will be full of cars.’

‘Rush hour,’ I corrected, under my breath.

‘Plus in this weather, with slippery roads, a taxi takes even longer, no?’ Niko glanced at his watch. ‘Quarter past six. We have to be there at seven. We are only two train stops away.’

‘I may as well have worn jeans,’ I muttered and picked up my faux fur shrug from the double bed. The simple room boasted the basics, such as a TV and ensuite bathroom. But there was no mini bar. Nor room service. Part of me longed for one night of luxury. Inside me stirred the niggles from previous weeks about us watching every single penny – or rather, euro.

I sighed and slipped on the shrug. “Evening Wear” the invitation had said. Not “Grubby Commuter Gear”. I know. It sounded like I was having a diva moment, but I just couldn’t help myself.

‘Getting a taxi is no big thing here,’ I said. ‘Henrik and I used to book them all the time on nights out, especially if the weather was inclement. Many Londoners never drive, so it’s just an alternative form of everyday transport. It’s probably seen less as a treat than in—’

Niko raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. He picked up his wallet from a chest of teak drawers. ‘Okay, I’ll go ahead and book a taxi at reception – if that’s the only way we can get you and your dress to the party in one piece.’

His dark eyes sparked a tiny bit. Oh dear, had I offended him? God, he looked hot in that tux. The pristine white shirt made his tanned skin look more exotic than ever. And the cut neatly showed off his fisherman’s strong torso and firm waist. I recalled our first kiss last summer – the magical fairy dust that filled my mind when our mouths met; how this very morning, in bed, my fingers had run over the muscled contours of his smooth back; how he’d held my face with his hand and passionately kissed me as if it was the last time our naked limbs would ever intertwine.

Voilá. Just like that, the memory melted my heart like ice cream in the sun.

‘At least give us one of those salty seafarer kisses before you go,’ I said softly, feeling my brow relax.

‘Allow me to be a little moody, now and then,’ he replied, eyes twinkling.