A Shameful Consequence - By Carol Marinelli Page 0,18

certainly did not need Stavros’s prompting.

‘How are you?’ His voice was low and soft and the concern in it almost made her break down.

‘Trying to choose …’ And though her eyes wandered over the fruit, they were speaking not about fruit but in their own coded language.

‘Be careful.’ His hand was completely steady as he spooned some yoghurt into a bowl, but, as choices went, Connie made the wrong one, blueberries not the best fruit when one’s hand was shaking so.

‘Look, Constantine, if you need anything …’

‘It’s Connie,’ she muttered, because it was who she was, a girl from a village, the golden child of a family that had made good. And if she did what her heart told her to, then she would surely destroy them.

‘Not to me,’ Nico said, and then he placed the business card on the bench. When he’d safely gone, she collected it, the weight of paper heavy in her hand, but her heart lighter for it. Just a small slip of card, but it was, Connie knew, her most valued possession.

‘Eat later.’ Stavros was beside her. ‘We need to socialise.’

She turned to her husband. ‘We need to talk.’ But he wasn’t about to listen to her, so she did as she was told, but only for now, and as she turned she saw the concierge approach Nico. She had to stand and make small talk, while out of the corner of her eye she was watching him, how effortlessly elegant he looked. The restaurant blazed with Lathira’s and Xanos’s Sunday and wedding best. It reeked of perfume and was filled with clean-shaven or well made-up faces, gold on fingers and necks and ears. And there Nico stood, unshaven, almost, her heart shivered, unkempt, for his shirt was a bit crumpled and his trousers were the same ones he’d had on the day before. But he stood out, not for that reason. He stood out for he commanded attention in a way that new clothes and heavy Greek gold never could.

She watched as he left, as all the good in her life walked out of the room without a backward glance, and, as she had yesterday, she wanted to run to him.

To run with him.

To be free.

CHAPTER FIVE

‘I’VE changed my mind.’

The concierge was excellent, Nico decided, because apart from the bulge of veins in his neck, Nico would not have known the inconvenience he was causing. ‘I would like to stay for another night here in Xanos. For now, I would like a driver to be arranged, one who can take me around the island. I do not know for how long.’

It was no trouble, the concierge assured him, no trouble at all.

‘And …’ He turned and gave an unusual request, one he would not have given had he stopped to think about it. ‘My room is not to be disturbed.’

‘I will have the maids just deliver fresh towels and make up the bed.’

‘It is to be left,’ Nico said, and for the second time in a lifetime, he almost blushed.

And Nico tried not to notice a middle-aged couple being shepherded, protesting, out of a vehicle, their luggage unloaded. In just a few moments the concierge led him out to his driver, who was a local. His name was George, he informed Nico as he climbed in.

‘Anything you want to know, just ask.’ George turned and looked over his shoulder as the car slid off. ‘Have I driven you before?’

‘I’ve never been to Xanos,’ Nico said. ‘Perhaps in Lathira, or on the mainland.’

‘I’ve never been off the island.’ George shrugged. ‘You look familiar. Are you sure …?’

‘You’re mistaken,’ Nico said, because he did not like small talk, or pointless chatter, but ‘familiar’ was a word that would repeat in his soul throughout the day. George took him down streets and through the town, along the curved mountains, to viewpoints that looked out to the ocean, and Nico felt something he hadn’t even known was missing. He felt peace in the midst of confusion, a peace he had never known.

‘I want to see the south.’

That caused a flurry of grumbles from George. ‘It’s all changed now,’ he moaned. ‘You have to pay to go there. There’s only one road and there’s a toll—there’s even a watchman. They say it’s to keep the press away, but it’s as much to keep us locals out. He might not let us through …’

‘He’ll let me,’ Nico said, because it was never otherwise, and sure enough, as the tollman peered