Read Those Summer Nights (Corfu, Greek Island Romance) for Free Online

of a metal trolley in his hurry. Unlike Harry she was in no rush. In fact she needed every second to work out how this was all going to go down when they got to Acharavi. What sort of a town name was that anyway? It sounded like a hot curry.
    As she hauled her case from the carousel she noticed Harry had found the elderly couple from the bus again. He was animated, his hands in the air. Imogen let out a breath. She could imagine every word he was saying. This restaurant, in his eyes, was only a few days away from being awarded its first Michelin star. Setting her luggage down, she pulled it along the floor to join him.
    ‘…we’re going to be doing traditional Greek food with a British twist. So if you like fish and chips, you’re going to love fish and chips with taramasalata ,’ Harry stated.
    ‘Ooo,’ the woman said. ‘Is that the pink stuff made of fish eggs?’
    ‘I think so,’ Harry said. ‘My sister’s the food buff.’
    Imogen smiled. ‘I’ve tried to tell my brother that traditional Greek is the way to go. I’m sure, coming here for so many years, you have your favourite dishes.’
    ‘Well,’ Betty began. ‘I am partial to chicken souvlaki . And I like to have a good squeeze of lemon all over it.’
    Imogen could almost smell the meat, herbs and citrus. ‘Have you tried squeezing a lime over it?’ she suggested.
    ‘Ooo, no dear, I haven’t.’
    ‘Can you cook that?’ Harry asked, looking at Imogen, eyes hopeful.
    ‘Even you could cook that, Harry,’ she answered.
    ‘Lea Bridge Road, London, 1976. That’s where I had my best chicken souvlaki ,’ Bill told them.
    ‘See, Harry,’ Imogen said, nudging his arm. ‘Greek food, not English.’ She smiled at the couple.
    ‘We ought to go. We need to pick up the hire car. It was nice to meet you both.’
    ‘Yes, it was very nice to meet you, Betty and Bill, and if you’re in the Acharavi area do drop into “TO”,’ Harry said.
    ‘Two?’ Betty looked puzzled. ‘There are two restaurants?’
    ‘Maybe I should have said “toe”.’ Harry shook his head.
    ‘Toe? As in… part of your foot?’
    ‘Have a lovely, lovely holiday,’ Imogen said, tightening her grip on Harry’s arm and tugging him towards the sliding doors out of the airport.
    ‘Maybe the name needs a rethink,’ Harry mused. ‘It was supposed to be ‘T’ for Tristan and ‘O’ for Olivia but I didn’t realise it would be so hard to say… or translate.’
    ‘To be honest I think the name of the restaurant is the least of our worries.’ She scrutinised the signs for the hire car companies. ‘Now, please, just tell me you didn’t book a Cinquecento.’

8
Ioannis Kapodistrias Airport, Corfu, Greece
    I t had only been a short hop in his private plane across other Greek islands, but Panos was tired. He hadn’t slept properly since his phone call with his grandmother. And then there had been the Rhea situation.
    As he exited the airport, manoeuvring his black case on four wheels, he remembered Rhea’s face when he said he was leaving and their relationship was over. She’d brought her hand to her perfectly styled hair, bracelets jangling, her plump lips downturned and thrown down the magazine she was reading. Then she’d prowled like a cat on heat around the villa in one of her barely-there sarongs over a tiny bikini, following him as he packed, crying, begging, as if he owed her further explanation. He felt he didn’t. She knew the score. Despite letting her have free rein at the villa for the two months he’d spent in Crete, she wasn’t his girlfriend, would never be. She was a friend of a friend, the ideal companion for the type of businessman he was. Two months was the longest he had stayed somewhere in the past five years and Rhea’s reaction to his leaving only made ending the liaison easier. She had got too clingy, expecting things he wasn’t able to give. He’d left her packing the items she’d gradually moved in when she thought he wasn’t