‘… a real numbskull.’
I gasp.
‘I know, I know. One shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but he dodged the Grim Reaper so many times, I wasn’t surprised when it finally found him. Ludwig had all manner of near misses, from that episode with the faulty brakes to the scuba-diving debacle. Don’t forget the close call with the helicopter rotor blades that took his ear clean off. I mean, the list goes on …’
‘None of that came up at the inquest.’
Her eyebrows pull together. ‘What inquest, darling?’ Gran waves away the reminiscences of husband number six. ‘Forget it, he’s in a better place.’
‘Yeah, I suppose so.’ Poor Gran couldn’t have predicted a lightning strike or she’d never have sent him into the forest to forage for mushrooms.
‘I’ve got this place all set up to be an exclusive club of sorts …’ She waggles a devious brow. ‘Patrons can pay for membership and can use the facilities and engage with other like-minded people. I’m waiting on some tradespeople to finish a few things and then we’re good to go and can have a launch party.’
Oh no, not this again! ‘Is this code for sex parties?’ I’m on high alert. It’s a sex den. A red room. A bondage boudoir. No wonder Gran doesn’t want Mom to find out – she’d be scandalised.I’mscandalised.
‘For goodness’ sake, Evie, it’s not a kink-fest or whatever risqué thing you’re conjuring in that head of yours. That wasonetime back in the Seventies. Two times, if I count that … oh never mind. You weren’t even born then so I don’t know why you’re still so shocked about it.’
I blush to the roots of my hair and wish I could teleport myself away. Gran shakes her head as if I’m a prude.
‘I’m more into monogamy – that’s all.’
‘Really. Evie, you’re so sensible at times, it kills me.’
‘Thanks?’ Honestly, she’s such a handful.
‘Behind these pretty doors, is a literary wonderland called Epeolatry, which means the worship of words. A night-time library, if you will, that will offer literary cocktails and smooth jazz and a veritable treasure trove of reading material from the classics to modern day. Let me show you.’
We go from the bright kaleidoscope of colour, to the drama of a dark academia aesthetic. The space resembles a Gothic library of yesteryear with its mahogany shelves, stacked with hardback books. There are dark leather sofas and emerald-green velvet armchairs with gold gilding.
Draped ruched curtains hide the sunlight, giving the room a moody, mysterious air. It’s decadent and luxe. Stone busts sit on plinths, and I bend to read the gold plaques, announcing the names of famous Greek authors. There are small nooks, that lead to hallways full of intrigue. Ornate chandeliers lend the room a warm, filmy illumination. The décor is stunning, as if every detail has been assiduously thought out. There’s a bar area, with plush stools lined up neatly in a row.
‘Gran, this is incredible. It’s like stepping back in time, visiting another era.’ The decadent jazz era of the roaring Twenties.
‘Isn’t it? I spent a bomb to achieve this vision and that’s why I need more time to prove its worth.’
‘Is this why Yannis wants to put the rent up?’ Is that even allowed?
She fiddles with her jangly earrings, a subtle tell she does when she’s gearing up to lie. How did I not pick up on this sooner? Blame the jet lag. The life lag that caught up with me on my arrival.
I wait her out, wondering which way she’ll go. Truth or bald-faced lie. ‘I presume so.’ She blushes and gives a loose shrug. ‘Yannis thinks I’m rolling in dough, but as you can imagine this level of intricacy does not come cheap. Andeverythingdoubles in price when you live on an island and need deliveries from the mainland.’
A sinking feeling hits. ‘Gran, did you invest your life savings in this place? Or did your husband fund it?’
She drops her gaze.Oh no. My mother is going to go nuclear if she hears about this. It’s Gran’s money though, so she has every right to spend it how she likes. Well, I suppose it’s technically the culmination of her bequeathments and life insurance policies from eight husbands, but that’s never come up in conversation, which is probably for the best. God rest their souls.
‘What’s really going on, Gran? Why are Yannis and his grandson Georgios breathing down your neck? Don’t give me that claptrap about increasing the rent. I don’t buy it.’
She drops the poor little old lady routine just like that. ‘OK, OK fine. I lied. The issue is I haven’texactlypaid the rent. There’s no money left. I’ve tried to explain to them that I need a few months to get back on my feet fiscally and I’ll pay them back with interest. But will they have it? No!’
I let out a long sigh. ‘This isn’t like you. How did you not budget correctly for renovations and your rent?’ Gran is as savvy as they come with her finances. This is a mistake she wouldn’t usually make.
Is Posy right and Gran is becoming more forgetful? My heart seizes at the thought.
Gran’s face falls. ‘I did budget, but things got out of hand and before I knew it, it was all gone.’
‘Where’s your husband in all of this?’ A terrible thought hits. ‘Is he dead?Already?’
She scoffs. ‘Why would he be dead, for crying out loud!’
