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

woman smiled. She was only five feet tall, still slim, but perhaps lacking the outward strength she’d always exhibited. Now it looked as though her formidable nature was the only thing keeping her standing. He adjusted quickly and opened his arms to her. ‘ Yiayia , you’re looking well.’
    She snorted and withdrew as quickly as she had met his embrace. ‘Pfft! You are not.’ She pointed a finger. ‘You are too thin.’
    ‘You have been saying this to me since I was five.’
    ‘And it is still true! Look at you!’
    Elpida had made it sound like he was on the verge of famine. There was still colour in her cheeks and those eyes that saw everything, externally and internally. He smiled.
    ‘How much do I have to eat before you’ll sell me the restaurant?’
    It was meant to be a joke. An ice breaker. But the way her dark eyes blackened and her lips formed a scowl he knew immediately he’d said the wrong thing.
    She pointed her finger again. ‘I tell you the restaurant is sold! Do you not believe me?’
    ‘Yes, but—’
    ‘But nothing. There is no conversation to be had about the restaurant anymore.’ She reached to the counter for a packet of cigarettes and held onto them like they were a comfort blanket. Her eyes dropped to the packet. ‘You wish for me not to smoke. Stop making me want to smoke.’ She threw the cigarettes down again.
    ‘I—’ Panos started.
    ‘You will eat kleftiko and then we are going out. We are meeting Risto.’ Elpida grabbed an oven glove and pulled open the cooker door, releasing the meaty aromas. ‘He has missed you.’
    He swallowed. He should have kept in better touch with his cousin. They had been brought up like brothers since Risto’s parents had both been killed in a car accident. He hadn’t spoken to him in so long.
    ‘Risto needs a little help.’
    ‘From me?’
    ‘Is there someone else in my kitchen?’ She waved a tea towel in the air. ‘Yes, you!’
    ‘Is he in some sort of trouble?’
    ‘We will discuss this with alcohol, but all in good time.’ She pulled a large casserole pot out of the oven. ‘Come and eat!’

11
The Restaurant, Acharavi Beachfront
    I mogen almost wanted to cry . The shambolic state of the outside of the property was nothing compared to the inside which looked like someone had driven a tank through it. Everything was either coated with dust or was broken – or both – and that was just the main room. The kitchen looked like it shouldn’t be entered without a hazmat suit. She’d held her nose before opening the fridge room and almost vomited when she found mouldy potatoes with roots a foot long protruding from one of the cupboards.
    The second floor was completely empty apart from carcasses of dead critters liberally spread across the tiles. There was a bathroom at one end, with a shower designed for people of Barbie and Ken proportions and a toilet with a basin resembling the bottom of a coffee cup. Now, with the dirty curtains parted, she stared out of the filthy glass window at the sea, hoping it would soothe her aching soul and provide some much needed inspiration. Or provoke a siren song to a TV home make-over team. Outside, on the beach, her legs stretched out on a lounger – that’s where she wanted to be. Eyes closed, drifting into a half-sleep, a half-litre of something alcoholic on a table next to her, listening to the lull of the sea…
    ‘It’s brilliant, isn’t it?’
    Imogen drew in a breath. Unless Harry had found a lifetime’s supply of Cillit Bang in a cupboard there was nothing to be happy about. She let go of the curtain and tried to ignore the shower of dust that caught the ray of sunlight flooding through the glass.
    ‘I know it’s only one big room and the bathroom up here, but that’s alright, isn’t it? I mean we can manage until we can get some partitioning put in. And Olivia and Tristan will love it. They’ll think it’s like camping out.’ He paused. ‘And then, when things are going well