The next morning, I’m up bright and early, refreshed after a long sleep. I go to the main villa and call out for Gran, but there’s no sign of her or Konstantine. Last night we didn’t have the intended big chat because I fell asleep and she must’ve left me to it, having pulled the blanket up to my chin and switched the light off.
Gran’s abode is cool and immaculately decorated in maximalist style. Just like her, it’s colourful and homely, with all sorts of weird and wacky items on display. She’s not here so I head back outside to find the bookshop. Perhaps she’s getting a head start on the workday? I hope there’s coffee at hand. I’d could murder a cup and breakfast wouldn’t go astray either.
The door to the bookshop is unlocked and creaks a welcome as I push it open. Inside is deliciously cool as I step on blue mosaic tiles. The walls are a bumblebee yellow and contrast nicely against the white stone archways that separate each room. Fuchsia pink bougainvillea creeps through open windows, as if trying to escape the heat outside.
The showstopper is the books themselves. Gran has them arranged in colour blocks, like a rainbow from red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo to violet. The bold, bright visual is complemented by the view of the never-ending sea outside. Cane peacock-style chairs with textured throw rugs are dotted around the space, just waiting for a reader to visit. There’s a spearmint green and white striped hammock swaying the breeze by a window, whispering my name.
A step down leads to a beautiful, faded teal door with an intricate wrought-iron gate that is so delicate it almost looks like lace. I try to open it, but it’s locked.
‘Darling! I’ve found you at last,’ Gran says, making me jump in fright.
‘You scared the bejesus out of me.’ I turn to find her dolled up in a shimmery white dress that sparkles in the sunlight. She’s wearing pair of cat-eye-shaped sunglasses and a wide-brimmed hat.
‘Sorry, darling. I’m just back from my morning walk to Caldera beach.’ She pulls off her hat. ‘I’ve got to see a man about a dog so you’re going to have to run the bookshop today. The code for the till is 1111. The fridge in my place is fully stocked so help yourself. Have fun, darling, and we’ll catch up for sunset cocktails this evening, OK? You’re a gem.’
The stop-out goes to leave, but I grab her elbow before she can escape. ‘Wait, wait, wait. You have to see a man about a dog? Where’s Konstantine? Can’t he run this place?’
Panic mode is activated.
‘No, he’s away at the moment. I have a lot on my plate right now, and there’s some finessing that needs to be done. Mind the fort. I’ll be back in a jiffy.’
My anxiety ratches up a notch – peopling is one thing, peopling in a foreign language is quite another. ‘Gran, wait! I don’t speak a word of Greek.’
‘Use a translate app.’ She rolls her eyes. ‘Really, Evie, don’t be such a pill. I’ve got a lot to do, and I’m counting on you to help me out. I promise I’ll tell you everything later.’ When she lays the guilt trip on thick, I know it’s a con.
‘Tell me now.’ I fold my arms and give her the mother of all stare-downs.
Gran checks her watch and sighs. ‘Fine. But you’re not to tell your mother about any of this. Deal?’
‘As long as it’s not illegal.’
I’m met with silence.
‘Gran?’
‘Of course not!’
Hmm. Doesn’t ring true but I let it go. How much trouble could an eighty-three-year-old get up to anyway?
‘I’m having a few issues is all, but nothing I need help with. And I don’t want the entireprecinctof the Fun Police arriving to escort me back to safer shores, so you have to keep everything on the quiet.’
‘If Mom finds out—’ and she’s better at investigation than the FBI so there’s every chance she will ‘—then I’ll have some explaining to do about why I covered for you. You know she’s sent me here for intel.’
‘Darling, you have to learn how to manage your mother better. It’s your only real downfall.’
‘True. It’s the way she patiently probes into every little detail and does all those long pauses that a person rushes to fill … it’s intimidating.’
‘A carefully crafted skill she’s honed over the years. So, the quick version is: my landlord Yannis has rented the property, including the bookshop and a bar, to my husband Konstantine for years. The seedy drinks area drew a few locals who’d guzzle cheap beer and gamble over card games. The bookshop never did well because Konstantine had given up on it. When we got married, I decided I’d revamp it.’
Gran and her pet projects. They have led to many escapades around the world and always reinvigorate her. ‘Go on,’ I say as she plonks herself on a stool.
‘After the renovations, we reopened the bookshop, having stocked it with new books, in English and Greek, but it was still quiet. The unsightly bar fizzled out and the poker players moved on. That area also needed a facelift, a new direction. A unique idea that would draw people here.’
‘Makes sense.’
‘This village is a little off the beaten track, which is a crying shame because the view is incomparable. And then it struck me like a bolt of lightning!’ She covers her mouth at her gaff. ‘Oh, dear. God rest his soul. Ludwig was …’ Her words peter off as she grapples with her memories.
Gran’s sixth husband Ludwig left this mortal coil after being struck by lightning. The man was so incinerated they couldn’t even use his teeth to positively identify the body. Investigators closed the case, deeming it a tragic case of wrong place, wrong time.
