My Big Fat Christmas Wedding (21 page)

‘Tell us about the wedding dress,’ she said.

‘It’s a secret, I’m afraid – but Pandora made it.’

Cleo’s eyes turned dreamy. ‘I’ve already spotted mine, for husband Number Two – whoever he might be.’

I stared at her hard. Had she already aimed her affections at my fiancé?

‘It’s a low-cut fishtail dress with a sequinned bodice and crystals sewn onto the veil,’ she continued.

‘I loved the Duchess of Cambridge’s,’ said Sophia. ‘Those laced arms were so pretty.’

‘My aunt got married in the Eighties and had a Bo-Beep style one.’ I smiled. ‘You could have fitted half the congregation under its billowing skirts.’

As if on cue, a classic Bee Gees song from that decade came on. Everyone else discoed onto the dance floor. I ate another calamari ring and then stood up to join in.

‘Hey, Pippa.’ Romeo appeared. ‘Sit with me. Let me treat you to another drink.’

‘Oh, um…’

Pandora winked at me from across the dance floor and I mock-glared at her.

‘Only if you tell me your real name,’ I said.

He raised one eyebrow.

‘Oh come on. Romeo? You’re from Manchester, not Milan.’

He dazzled me with those white teeth. ‘Fair cop. My mate, Cleo, was right – you don’t suffer fools.’

‘Well, it’s hardly rocket science. As for Cleo, what else has she said?’

‘That you opened a teashop in Taxos.’ He guffawed.

‘What’s wrong with that?’ Heat flushed into my cheeks. ‘My scones are very popular.’

His laugh increased in pitch and eventually I giggled.

‘Okay, agreed, a teashop in Greece sounds rather random, but it caught the tail-end of the last tourist season and proved to be popular. But don’t change the subject – your name?’

‘As long as you don’t tell anyone else, I’ll tell you.’ He pulled a face. ‘Kevin. Hardly the charismatic name of a nightclub owner, is it?’

I drank some water. ‘It’s not that bad – I’m thinking Kevin Costner, Kevin Spacey, Kevin Kline…’

‘It’s still a naff name,’ he said. ‘Take it from me – I’ve been teased about it all my life. And most women coming here are tourists – they want two weeks of fantasy and the exotic away from the humdrum, not Kevin from
Coronation Street
. But then I can tell you aren’t most women. Although I’d appreciate it if you’d still call me Romeo.’ He grinned and indicated to a barman, who brought over a bottle of champagne. Despite my protestations,
Romeo
poured us each a glass.

‘Here’s to your future,’ he said and relaxed back into the sofa. ‘So, tell me about this Niko. From what Cleo says, he seems like a sound bloke.’

‘He’s a fisherman. We knew each other as children. We’re getting married on Friday.’ We are. Nothing will stop it, I told myself, and sipped the champagne.

He stared at me. ‘I’ve had a lot of hen parties in here. If you don’t mind me saying, you’re the least excited fiancée I’ve ever met. No silly outfits or drinking games. Why so low-key? Pre-wedding nerves?’

‘No!’ I put down my glass and it almost fell over.

‘Ah ignore me, Pippa, shouldn’t be mithering you. None of my business.’

‘Talking of business…’ I said, glad to change the subject, ‘how do you fill a place like this, in the winter, midweek, in this era of austerity?’

Romeo undid his shirt’s top button. ‘We don’t open every day and cocktails are half-price tonight. I do promotions. Get in top DJs. Mingle with the guests to make them feel special. It’s quality not quantity. I don’t open Sunday, Monday or Tuesday between November and March.’

‘So, are you just mingling to keep me happy?’ I said and grinned.

‘Nah. You’re one interesting lady. Not many bank executives would give it all up for the quiet life.’

‘Cleo really has given you the low-down.’

He chuckled. ‘If you weren’t engaged, I’d be sure she was trying to set us up, as you seem the perfect partner for me. She knows my taste. You run your own business – I like feisty, successful women – and I’m mad for redheads. My fave movie as a kid was
The Little Mermaid
and when I got older, my affections switched to Nicole Kidman.’

‘A man with good taste,’ I said and bowed my head. ‘Although Cleo is horrified by my freckles.’

‘Jealous, I’d say. Who wants to be like the rest of the crowd? You’re a stunner, with those long pins and that hair.’ He looked sheepish. ‘Okay, and I’m aware that as an intelligent human being, you don’t appreciate being rated just for your looks. So, er, I also think you must be one right clever, special person to have helped Taxos avoid total economic ruin.’

I giggled again – something I hadn’t done much of, lately. ‘Ten out of ten for PC-ness. And, um, thanks for the compliments.’

‘No probs. To be honest, your reputation preceded you anyway. Word gets around and I’d heard of Pippa Pattinson weeks ago. Stavros often comes in here on a Thursday night – you know him, right?’

I nodded. ‘Yes. I’ve just run a new project by him, in fact.’

Romeo leant forward. ‘New project? How about I introduce you to the Kos business community? We have fortnightly meetings. Everyone is dead supportive.’

‘Oh. Yes.’ I smiled. ‘Thanks. Sounds great.’

Romeo reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a card. ‘Here’s my phone number and email address. Just contact me, when you are ready. Now this new project…?’

Over another refreshing glass of water, I found myself rambling uncontrollably about my loggerhead turtle charity.

‘Whoa! Catch your breath for a minute,’ said Romeo eventually and held up his hand.

I grinned.

‘You’re looking for another trustee?’

‘Yes. Hopefully Stavros’ brother Orion, who owns Creami-Kos, will come on board.’

Romeo thought for a moment and then looked up and waved to the group of businessmen who’d just come in. ‘Right, well, let me mull it over, Pippa, but would you consider me?’ He knocked back his drink. ‘I’m thirty next year…’ He gave a wry smile. ‘…and have been thinking for a while, it’s about time I got involved with something that didn’t involve booze or twerking. This might be just the challenge I need.’

He leant over and kissed me on both cheeks, before I could think straight. Obviously, I’d have to check out Romeo’s credentials as I’d only just met the man, but it would be great to get another business-savvy person on board. Great, my plan really was coming together now. I clasped my hands together. ‘Thanks,
Kevin
,’ I whispered in his ear and we both laughed, just as Cleo returned and sat in his place.

‘Ooh, no feel so good,’ she said, slurring her words a little. ‘Those Pina Coladas… I don’t think coconut cream agrees with me.’ She patted my arm. ‘Hope tonight has made you feel better about your break-up with dear Niko.’

I squirmed in my seat. ‘He told you?’

‘Of course. That’s why I planned tonight – reckoned you could do with cheering up. I mean, he’s quite a catch…would be such a shame to lose him.’

My eyes narrowed.

‘Niko…’ She sighed. ‘…he’s such a good man. In fact, he and me share a lovely little secret.’ She giggled. ‘Ha! Better not say any more, just in case he changes his mind about it.’

‘Secret?’ My brow furrowed.

She nodded and seconds later grimaced. ‘Ooh. I feel a little ill. Must not say any more – the alcohol might make me reveal something I shouldn’t.’

I blinked rapidly. What could she mean? I leant forward, about to ask her several questions, when her hand flew up to her mouth.

‘Ooh, something bad going to happen…’ With that she promptly reached for the ice bucket, yanked out the champagne bottle and vomited into its empty space.

Chapter Seventeen

‘Darling! Why the panda eyes? Working too hard? Have you run out of concealer? They had a fab-u-lous beauty product sale on in Selfridges last week, including electronics such as mini straighteners. And you should have seen the Christmas decorations in Harrods. Plus you’ll never guess who I bumped into when—’

Meet Mum.

Dad gave me a wry smile. ‘Pippa. You look beautiful. Happy Christmas, love.’

I stood against the wall to let them into the villa and glanced at myself in the hallway mirror. To be fair to Mum, my appearance was a far cry from London executive Pippa. Yet over the last few months I’d got used to my new reflection, all freckles and waves. It had been like reacquainting myself with an old friend. Although circles did underline my eyes – no surprise, considering I spent the night figuring out if the idea of Niko and me one day having kids and then grandchildren, was nothing but a foolish fantasy; that he’d never have kids with red-tinted hair – they’d be Greek through and through due to his glamorous wife, Cleo.

I shook myself. Talk about ridiculous. Niko was not so fickle. But then what was the secret Cleo had talked about?

‘Just too many Pina Coladas last night,’ I said, knowing Mum’s reaction would turn from disapproval to delight. I couldn’t voice the truth – that tonight I’d be confronting Niko for a final answer – did he really want to call the wedding off?

Vomited. Passed out. Taken home by Romeo. That had summed up the rest of Cleo’s evening. And mine? Drank copious amounts of water. Stuffed in more comforting calamari. Danced with the girls. Pretended everything was fine. It was two o’clock before I’d stumbled inside the villa.

‘Goodnight, my little peach,’ Grandma had called, voice wobbling a little. In the back of the car she’d squeezed my hand, eyes all shiny. Words weren’t necessary to express how much we hoped Niko would change his mind.

‘We love you, Pippa.’ Sophia in the biggest ouzo mood ever – apart from a poignant moment in the club when she’d suddenly hugged me and said I’d always be like a daughter to her, whatever happened.

‘Must do this again!’ Pandora had danced to every song.

‘La, la, laaaa!’ called Postie’s wife, still singing the Macarena.

‘Mind you, the fair has also been terribly busy,’ I said and followed my parents into the lounge. ‘More visitors than ever came today. Word seems to have spread. And a new friend of mine, Maria, dropped off these pastries. I might start selling them in the shop.’

They sat down on the sofa and I approached them with a plate of herby lamb and beef snacks and two napkins. ‘I’m going to start making Cornish pasties and hopefully supply Creami-Kos with them. I must also tell you about a new charity fundraising project I’m starting. You see—’

Mum stood up. Took the plate and napkins from me and then pushed me gently down to the sofa. The three of us sat, side by side.

‘Out with it,’ said Dad and took off his mac. Mum passed him her navy blazer, revealing a shoulder-padded cerise jumper. He folded the coats and placed them on an armchair opposite, then sat back down in it. He and Mum exchanged looks. ‘Verbal diarrhoea from you means only one thing, young lady…’ Dad raised one of his bushy eyebrows. ‘You’re hiding something.’

‘Thanks very much!’ I said, feeling like a teenager. I folded my arms. ‘Honestly. It’s nothing. I’m just pleased to see you.’

‘Where’s the man of the moment?’ asked Dad, as if reading my mind.

‘Is everything on target for tomorrow?’ said Mum. ‘Sorry we couldn’t get here earlier, but our new client doesn’t close for business between Christmas and New Year.’ She took a napkin and handed it to Dad, before helping them both to the food.

‘Well…seeing as you ask.’ Deep breath. I could do this. Only a coward would leave breaking the news that Niko and I were having real problems, until the very last minute. ‘I’m not happy…’ Nausea backed up my throat. ‘I still haven’t decided how to do my hair.’

My parents rolled their eyes.

‘Pippa! It’s not like you to sweat over the small stuff!’ Mum smiled. ‘Don’t you worry, darling, I’ll come up with some ideas.’

‘As long as they don’t incorporate big Eighties styles from
Dallas
or
Dynasty
,’ I muttered.

‘It will be your wedding day! No room for subtlety there!’

Dad winked at me. ‘Apart from that, are you sure everything is in hand?’

Meekly, I nodded.

‘And how was Henrik, last weekend?’ said Dad. ‘Wasn’t London hit by a lot of snow?’

I stared at the mosaic rug by my feet. ‘Yes, it was. And Henrik’s good. Olivia was very nice.’ In fact I’d sent her a tentative email before going out last night. I felt a phone call might be too much, after everything that had happened. Yet she’d emailed back straight away with some really good advice for my charity work.

‘When is their Big Day?’ said Mum and wiped her mouth. ‘Mmm, that filo pastry is to die for.’

‘Their wedding – it’s off.’ That was easier than telling them mine might be too. ‘Long story. Henrik is moving to Dubai.’

Mum tutted. ‘No surprise. I told your dad Henrik’s engagement was too quick and she must have been the Rebound Girl.’

‘His words exactly,’ I mumbled and fiddled with my watch. ‘You don’t think that…’ My voice stuttered. ‘…that me and Niko got engaged too quickly, as well?’

‘Good lord, no. You’ve known each other for years.’ said Dad and got up. He went over to the central heating thermostat and turned the temperature up. He sat back down again. ‘You know your mother, Pippa – she doesn’t hold back on her opinions.’ He smiled. ‘She’d have said something by now.’

I glanced at them both. ‘Yes. Of course. Just wedding nerves! And I haven’t even made you a coffee!’ I jumped up to put the kettle on.

‘Funnily enough the engagement didn’t bother me, darling,’ said Mum. ‘In fact, knowing Niko, I could only feel pleased. What unsettled me more was you giving up your banking career to open a teashop, after all that hard study. But your father and I have discussed it and…’

He shrugged. ‘We’re proud of you, love. Not many people have the courage to follow their dreams. You know, I wanted to be a vet, but plumped for a job I thought would be more financially secure.’

‘My dream was to be a make-up assistant to the stars,’ said Mum.

The three of us looked at each other and chuckled.

‘You would have been a disaster,’ I said and spooned coffee into three mugs. ‘You need to massage celebrity egos for that job, whereas you would have just told them straight if they were looking rough. But a vet…’ I gazed at Dad. ‘How come we’ve never owned any pets?’