Breakfast Under a Cornish Sun (28 page)

My chest glowed as I thought back to many summers spent in Taxos, a little fishing village on the northern coast of the Greek island, Kos. Having been sent to
boarding school from the age of seven, it was the only time I saw my jet-setting parents consecutively, for every day of a whole month. ‘What are you thinking about?' asked Henrik, as I felt a dreamy look come over my face.

‘Taxos. Georgios and Sophia.' Mum and Dad's good friends who used to be like a second set of parents to me.

‘Ah, yes. Pleasant people.'

‘You got on well with them in January, didn't you?'

Henrik shrugged. ‘I guess. Not that I could spent much time at their taverna. Jeez, dead as the tourist market in the Ukraine, that restaurant was,' he said. ‘If the people of Taxos have poor summer takings, it must be a real struggle to make ends meet during the low season.'

Urgh, that was a harsh comparison, but remember what I said about the Dutch speaking their mind? A trait that could be highly uncomfortable or rather refreshing … In fact, it was one thing I'd always found attractive about him—his total transparency.

‘Although Georgios did take me to the wetlands, to watch wading flamingos … Never far from his binoculars, is he?'

I grinned. ‘Sounds like some things haven't changed. Dad used to tease him about looking for dollybirds.' I don't think we ever did explain that joke.

‘You might get a shock when you see Taxos again.' Henrik shook his head. ‘The recession has taken its toll.'

That's what worried me. I bit my lip. Six months ago he'd gone over as a favour to Mum and Dad when they received word that their villa had flooded. Henrik had a business meeting on the Greek mainland anyway, and said his employer—ThinkBig Development—could pay for the detour. He was always flying off to meet foreign builders or architects, since ThinkBig had branched out into Europe.

‘I never asked—did you at least try Georgios' homemade retsina?' I gave a grin.

‘Yep—didn't think you'd want the details as I was as ill as a dog the next day.' He pulled a face. ‘Have you ever stuck your head down a Greek toilet? I can confirm that the flushing system copes with vomit as poorly as it does loo paper.'

I giggled. Yet I'd always envied everything about my Kos friends' simple lives: rearing their own meat, growing vegetables and fermenting their own wine.

‘How long is it exactly since you've been there?' asked Henrik and stretched back against the sofa, hands behind his head.

I thought for a moment. ‘Wow. Nine years—the last time, I was fourteen and had just chosen my GCSE options. Then life got busy with exams, sixth form, university, getting a new job, renting this gorgeous flat with you …' My chest tightened as I recalled comments Henrik had made about empty Taxos properties and rundown businesses … of Georgios and Sophia's home needing a
good lick of paint … although I cheered up as an image of their cheeky son Nikolaos—Niko—popped into my mind.

‘It'll be a change for you, to be on a beach during your days off, instead of on the piste, during one of our usual ski breaks.'

I nodded. Even our holidays were busy these days, navigating snowy slopes or trekking up challenging mountains. Relaxing images floated into my mind of the many summers Niko and I had spent together, climbing olive trees, chasing goats or diving for pretty shells. The clear waters and marine life inspired a love of tropical fish, and ever since my thirteenth birthday I'd owned the biggest heated tank I could afford. My current one was home to three angelfish, two mini shark fish and some colourful snails. I sighed, almost smelling the briny air of Taxos beach.

‘On my last visit, Niko would have been fourteen like me and was sponge-diving and fishing with his Uncle Christos and helping out in the taverna … What's he doing now?'

Henrik shrugged. ‘Much the same, from what I could tell.'

No surprise there. Niko never had aspirations to leave home and travel the world. Even as a young boy, he'd say ‘Like fertile soil, Taxos will provide everything I need for a lifetime of happiness.'

I kind of admired the confidence he had in his little hometown. And despite me studying and ultimately heading for university, we'd still had lots in common,
that last summer: a love of nature and food, plus the ability to tease each other mercilessly. Niko would call pink-hating teenage me Tomboy and, me being the tallest, I named him Shorty. We used to spend hours watching turtles and both joined the World Wide Fund for Nature.

‘It was good of Mum and Dad to invite me on their annual visit this August,' I said and loosened my ponytail. And for three consecutive weeks! I'd never left my desk for that long, but since my chat with Greta, since my feelings for Henrik had shifted, I needed a good amount of time away from the daily grind, to think about our relationship. Fortunately, work had insisted it wasn't a problem, even though I'd just moved departments, due to all the unpaid overtime I'd happily put in over the last two years. ‘I've always loved Taxos for being so untouched by the glitzy eighteen-to-thirty crowd. You experience a real slice of authentic Greek life.'

Henrik's jaw tightened and he fiddled with his designer watch. ‘I'd say it was short-sighted of any Greek village to hark back to the old days, in these economically challenged times. Taxos didn't look to me as if it was doing well on feelings of nostalgia and the earnings from selling fish and olives.'

My head told me he was right, but just the thought of puking, drunken tourists invading that community made
me
feel like throwing up. I shook myself. ‘Anyway, it's a shame you've got that big contract to
work on and can't go.' I cleared my throat. Truth was, I felt as relieved as an ice cream finding shade that I only had seven days to go until I left. With that marriage proposal on the horizon, I needed to come to a decision about him, without the distraction of his seductive slate eyes. They only reminded me of how I'd felt about him when we'd first started dating.

My own eyes misted up as I thought of struggling Taxos with its turquoise waters and shortbread sand—of my imaginary teashop where I'd do the school run, dance in the dark and wake with the birds. Oh, the hours Niko and I had spent thinking up ridiculous names for it: Scones Sweet Scones; Teacakes Ahoy; She Shells Cake; Shiver Me Sandwiches. In the end, I'd plumped for Pippa's Pantry. ‘Boring!' Niko had declared—cue a generous handful of hot sand down his back.

I leant up against Henrik, wondering if I would miss him whilst out in Greece. He wanted kids, but not until our thirties and, like my parents, thought boarding school fitted the executive life best. A bustling family home like Georgios and Sophia's wouldn't suit him one jot.

‘Funny you should talk of Taxos … you see my surprise …' Henrik sat upright and turned to face me.

Eek! Greta's words rung in my ears. Was her son about to propose and take me to Greece on honeymoon? Because his surprise certainly wouldn't be chocolates or extravagant bouquets. Henrik wasn't the chivalrous, romantic type, and would
consider such gifts a waste of money. Which was good, right? I was a successful, independent woman, not a Disney princess—although if I was, it would have to be Snow White, with her love of birds and forest life. Not that I've, um, thought that through at all … *clears throat*. Knights—or princes—in shining armour, I knew, belonged in fiction books, and Henrik always respected my modern outlook. He rarely gave out flowery compliments either—said I was far too intelligent to be patronised by such ‘tosh'. Neither of us could understand why I loved reading anything with a romantic theme.

‘Oh, goodness, is that the time …' I rambled, desperate for a speedy exit. I moved forwards, to the edge of the sofa. ‘Sorry, I've got to go out right now, forgot I have Zumba and—'

‘Whoa! Slow down, Pippa! Surely an exercise class can wait two minutes?'

Aarggh! There was no way out of this. As if already feeling apprehensive about an engagement ring, my left hand curled into a fist.

‘Guess what? Thanks to your parents and my boss, you're in for a great holiday abroad.'

Like the detergent-blue Greek tide coming in, a growing sense of uneasiness washed over me.

‘As a thank-you for me heading over to sort out the flooding mess, your mum and dad insist we have the villa to ourselves this summer. They will visit your
aunt in Canada instead. My boss said he can just about afford to let me go for three weeks, as long as …' Henrik fiddled with his watch again, ‘… I find a few days to head off to Kos Town to tie up some business at our new offices there.'

‘Since when did ThinkBig have offices on Kos island?' I said, for a minute forgetting my total relief at him not having proposed.

‘Ignore all that for a minute … Didn't you hear? I'm coming with you, Pips! It'll be just us, cocktails and waves … and who knows what could happen.'

Voice husky now, Henrik took my hand and—uh oh—ran his thumb over my ring finger.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

First and foremost, thanks to my perceptive, patient and talented editor Victoria Oundjian. You have the sharpest eye for identifying a story's weaknesses and strengths—and the most tactful way of conveying this information to the author! I am also grateful to the whole Carina UK team for helping to make this book the very best it can be.

Thanks to Clare Wallace, my lovely supportive agent. Also, a big shout-out to fellow Carina authors who are always there to offer virtual cake and guidance during the wobbly moments. I am also hugely grateful to all my friends in the literary community—fellow writers and generous bloggers—who make my job so enjoyable.

Martin, Immy and Jay—as always you are the THE BEST. I love you dearly.

Thanks to Franky for the inspiring wind spinner.

Finally huge thanks to you, the readers. You are my motivation and inspiration when writer's block strikes or the real world tries to tempt me away from my desk. I love hearing from you and a review is always enormously appreciated. You can contact me via:

http://samanthatonge.co.uk/

https://twitter.com/SamTongeWriter

https://www.facebook.com/SamanthaTongeAuthor/

Copyright

Carina UK

An imprint of HarperCollins Publishers

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.carinauk.com

First published in Great Britain by Carina UK in 2016

Copyright © Samantha Tonge 2016

Samantha Tonge asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Ebook Edition © July 2016 ISBN: 978-0-00-818484-1