DEMELZA looked down over the stone wall bordering the terrace to find out what all the commotion was about. In the courtyard of the apartment below her she could see two small boys chasing each other round and round, laughing and calling to each other in Greek. Their skin was bronzed by the sun, one of them darker than the other. The lighter-skinned boy glanced up at her and she caught a glimpse of strong white teeth in a happy little face.
She felt a sudden pang of sadness. The boy looked about six years old, the same age as her own son would have been. Tears pricked behind her eyes, threatening to run down her cheeks. Well-meaning friends had told her that time would heal but the years had gone by and she was still hurting inside. She took a deep breath, brushed the moistness from her eyes and smiled down at the little boy.
He paused for a moment, looking up at her, before his playmate gave him a playful push and they continued their game. As she watched them she tried to imagine what it must be like to be so happy and carefree that you had to let off steam like that. They were both wearing the uniform of the nearby school, but from the rumpled state of their shirts it was obvious they’d had a hectic day.
The church clock above her on the hillside chimed six. The sun was dipping low in the sky behind her. It was still early in May but the afternoon had been very hot and she was looking forward to the comparative cool of the evening. Looking down at the two delightful little boys, she began to wonder who they belonged to.
They probably lived in the apartment below hers, but when she’d arrived from the airport this afternoon the place had seemed deserted. The door to the enclosed courtyard was now wide open, she noticed, and she distinctly remembered that she’d closed it. She’d felt suddenly nervous to be moving into this large old Greek villa, knowing no one, hundreds of miles from familiar territory.
There was the sound of footsteps on the old cobble-stones outside the courtyard and a small, plump woman burst in, wiping her hands on her apron and beginning a tirade in Greek, directed towards the boys. It was obvious to Demelza that these two happy lads weren’t supposed to be there. The woman was pointing towards the open gateway at the same moment as a tall man appeared.
He was carrying a black leather bag, which he put down on the flagstoned floor as he began to talk rapidly in Greek to the woman. She smiled, seemingly reassured as she dropped her agitated hands to her side. The boy who’d smiled up at Demelza ran with a whoop of joy towards the man and began chattering excitedly, his little arms fixed, limpet-like, around the man’s waist. The woman put out her hand towards the other boy and led him away.
As the sturdy iron door of the courtyard clanged to behind the woman and her child, the tall man stopped speaking in Greek.
‘Ianni, how many times have I told you that you mustn’t play here without telling Katerina where you are?’
Demelza was amazed by his flawless English. His suntanned olive skin, the handsome, rugged Mediterranean features, proclaimed him to be Greek, but his English accent was perfect. He was carrying the jacket of his grey suit over his arm, his open-necked white shirt almost as crumpled as the boy’s. He looked tired, one hand now running through dark, tousled hair as he straightened up from speaking to the boy.
The little boy had assumed a contrite expression as he gazed up at the tall man. ‘I’m sorry, Dad. Lefteris and I didn’t mean to come in, but we were playing in the street outside his house and we just sort of found ourselves at this end. I only wanted to see if you were home.’
Perfect English again. Demelza was beginning to wonder who this bilingual father and son were as, for the first time since he’d arrived, the man looked up and noticed her. The sun, dipping down behind the hills, was in his eyes and he screwed up his eyes.
‘Hello, you must be the new sister at the resort clinic. They told me you were coming today. I’m Nick Capodistrias.’
She remembered his name from the instructions the travel consortium who employed her had supplied. So this was Nicholas Capodistrias, the doctor she was to contact if there was something she couldn’t handle in her new position.
She leaned further over the wall of her large flag-stoned terrace. ‘I’m Demelza Tregarron. It’s a relief to find we’re going to be neighbours. I’ll know where to get in touch with you if—’
She broke off, feeling that she was assuming an awful lot. Maybe Dr Capodistrias would think it an imposition if she asked for too much help, especially in his off-duty time. She’d been told he worked at the local hospital and he looked as if he’d welcome a bit of peace and quiet.
‘I’ve been asked to look after you until you find your feet,’ he said, his voice steady, giving nothing away as to how he felt about the arrangement. ‘Why don’t you come down and have a drink with us? We can’t talk like this with you up there and the sun in my eyes.’
Young Ianni was jumping up and down excitedly now. ‘Dad, can I have some lemonade?’
‘Sure!’ Dr Capodistrias turned to look up at Demelza. ‘Are you coming?’
She was intensely aware that she hadn’t finished unpacking and her belongings were strewn everywhere in her apartment, but she also knew that the sooner she began learning the ropes the easier life would become. And there was something intensely intriguing about this father and son. Was the little boy’s mother inside, preparing supper and pouring drinks? If she was, why hadn’t she come out to greet her husband?
There was so much to find out besides the useful information she needed to run the clinic. For the first time in six years she felt a spark of enthusiasm running through her. Taking the plunge and leaving the old life behind had been a good idea. At the ripe old age of thirty-two, she’d been in danger of stagnating.
‘I’ll be down in five minutes,’ Demelza called, as she dashed inside her apartment to find something suitable to wear.
She couldn’t go down in the skimpy shorts and sleeveless top she’d thrown on after her shower. First impressions were important and she didn’t want Dr Capodistrias to think she wasn’t suitable to take charge of the new clinic at the beach resort. She mustn’t look as if she was just another tourist out for a free holiday funded by a bit of work thrown in on the side.
She surveyed the chaos. The new white cotton trousers would go with her old tried-and-tested lime-green T-shirt. She wanted to look neat, informal, like an off-duty professional. A professional again! It had been a long time since she’d been in paid work and she wanted to give it her best shot.
Fully dressed, she glanced at herself in the long mirror as she ran a brush through her long auburn hair. She usually wore it coiled up on top of her head during the day, but in the evenings it felt so relaxing to have it tumbling casually over her shoulders.
She nudged herself along. Come on, girl, it’s only a drink you’re going for! As Demelza hurried down the outside stone staircase that led from her apartment to the courtyard, she noticed that whoever had converted this rather grand old villa into two apartments had done a good job. They’d kept the ancient ambience of the place whilst putting in all the mod cons that made life comfortable.
The plumbing left something to be desired but she’d been warned this wasn’t a strong point in the Greek islands! But at least the shower had worked, even if she’d had to hold the shower head with one hand while she’d soaped herself with the other. Maybe she could persuade someone to attach it to the wall? Or perhaps she could do it herself. She’d been pretty nifty at DIY when she’d been running the domestic side of the farm.
She crossed the flagstoned courtyard and waited in front of the open door through which she’d seen the doctor and his son go into their apartment.
‘Come through!’ she heard Dr Capodistrias call from somewhere beyond the open door. ‘We’re out at the back.’
The interior of the apartment seemed dim after the bright sunlight. Demelza stepped straight into a large, rather grand living room, furnished with antique chairs, a table and a glass-fronted cupboard displaying delicate porcelain cups and saucers, antique silver ornaments and a large amount of cut glassware. Numerous portraits of family figures and groups adorned the walls.
She smiled as she noticed a bunch of spring flowers in pride of place in the middle of the table. It had been stuffed untidily inside a jam jar, obviously by Ianni’s small hands, and it seemed charmingly incongruous with the rest of the decor.
She looked around her at the deserted room. There was no sign of his mother.
Nicholas Capodistrias suddenly appeared in the doorway that led to the outside terrace and extended his hand.
‘Welcome!’ he said impassively, as he shook her hand.
Demelza felt a strong hand enclosing her own and didn’t pull away. It was good to have some physical contact with a fellow human being. She was startled by the warm feeling it gave her as she stood looking up into his dark brown eyes.
‘Come and sit down.’
Young Ianni was already sitting at a small, rough-hewn wooden table, happily ploughing his way through a dish of crisps. He looked up at Demelza and tried to smile, but it was obviously difficult with his mouth full and the little boy gave an involuntary splutter of acknowledgement instead.
‘Hey, save some for us!’ his father said good-naturedly, moving the dish towards the centre of the table. ‘What can I get you to drink?’
‘Whatever you’re having, Dr Capodistrias,’ she replied politely.
‘Call me Nick. And may I call you by your fascinating name? I’ve never met anyone called Demelza before.’
‘It’s Cornish. I was born in Cornwall and I was called after my grandmother.’
He was studying her with his expressive eyes. ‘It’s a lovely name. Now, you’ve asked for the same drink as me. I’m drinking ouzo, Demelza. Have you ever had any?’
She shook her head. ‘I’d like to try some.’
He smiled, and she noticed how much younger and more approachable he looked with a smile on his face. He couldn’t be older than his late thirties but the care-worn expression he’d carried on his face when he’d first arrived home had given her the impression of an older man.
She noticed that the trousers of his grey suit had been replaced by a pair of old, worn jeans which outlined the strong muscles in his thighs. There was no doubt that he was a strikingly handsome man. A man who could speak fluent English and Greek, working out here on a sun-kissed island, in charge of a small, bewitching little son who’d already stolen her heart. The situation was intriguing her. She knew very little so far about him, but she found herself avid to find out more.
He was still smiling, but now with a hint of mischief. ‘I feel I ought to warn you, ouzo’s an acquired taste and it’s very strong. I’ll give you a small one and mix it with water.’
She watched as the clear liquid turned cloudy with the addition of the water. Raising the glass to her lips, she took a tentative sip. The liquid hit the back of her throat and made her gasp.
Father and son burst out laughing at her reaction.
‘I did warn you!’ Nick said.
Ianni had jumped to his feet and come round to her chair, patting her gently on the back with a small, soothing hand.
‘Would you like some of my lemonade, Demella?’
She smiled at Ianni’s mispronunciation of her name. What a perfectly charming boy! Demelza swallowed hard as she turned to look at the concerned little face so close to her own, peering over her shoulder.
‘Lemonade would be lovely, Ianni. Thank you very much.’
The boy hurried away into the house to return with a large bottle. Solemnly he unscrewed the cap and was about to pour it into her ouzo glass.
Nick reached for a fresh glass and carefully supervised the pouring of the lemonade.
‘See if you like it, Demella,’ Ianni said anxiously.
She took a sip and gave it her serious consideration. ‘It’s excellent.’
Ianni smiled happily and settled back in his chair.
‘Try Demelza’s name again, Ianni,’ Nick said. ‘It starts off with Demel.’
‘Demel…’ Ianni said, carefully.
‘Then finishes with za.’
‘Za. Demelza, Demelza,’ the little boy sang. ‘Show me how to write it. I’ll get my copy book.’
‘Talking of which, did you do your homework at Katerina’s?’ Nick asked.
Ianni grinned. ‘Most of it. I’ve only got to copy out some letters and then it’s finished. Look, Demelza!’
She was amazed by the neatness of the little boy’s exercise book and also by the fact that he was doing homework at such a tender age.
‘Ianni is learning to read and write Greek and English at the same time, but he doesn’t seem to have a problem with the work,’ his father explained. ‘Do you want to go and finish your homework inside the house so we don’t disturb you with our chatter, Ianni?’
Ianni smiled. ‘OK! I won’t be long. And then can we go to Giorgio’s for supper?’
‘Didn’t you have supper at Katerina’s?’
Ianni pulled a face. ‘I didn’t eat much because I like having supper with you, Dad.’ He glanced at Demelza. ‘Why don’t you come with us, Demelza? You’d like Giorgio’s. Do you like dancing?’
Nick put a hand gently on his son’s shoulder. ‘Finish your homework and we’ll see,’ he said quickly.
As the little boy disappeared inside, Demelza turned to Nick. ‘I really ought to get myself sorted out this evening.’
It was the talk of dancing that had alarmed her. She wasn’t ready yet to throw herself into the social scene. One step at a time. She’d got herself out here and she didn’t want to rush into things. Besides, she was sure that Nick wouldn’t want an extra person intruding on his family supper. Especially someone who’d been dumped on him as an extra responsibility.
As if reading her thoughts, he leaned across the table towards her. ‘If it’s the dancing you’re afraid of, don’t worry—nobody has to join in unless they want to and it’s only at the weekends that I let Ianni stay up for it. Tonight being Monday, I’ll have him whisked away and in bed early enough to get a good night’s sleep before school. So, if you’d like to taste the local cuisine, you’d be most welcome to join us. I don’t expect you’ve got any food in the apartment.’
His voice was polite. She knew he was being the dutiful professional but she was loath to leave this warm family atmosphere to return to her lonely apartment.
‘It’s a very tempting idea,’ she said carefully. ‘And I do have a lot of questions to ask you about the clinic.’
‘I’ll fill you in and then you can ask me about anything you don’t understand. When you start work in the morning you’ll soon get the hang of the place. Basically…’
She listened attentively while Nick explained that she would be expected to do a morning surgery at the clinic on five days each week at the beach resort half a mile away. If there was anything she couldn’t handle, she was to contact him at the hospital in the town. In between surgeries and at weekends, if there were any emergencies, the staff at the resort reception would contact her on her mobile and Demelza would decide if it was a case she could handle or if a visit to the hospital was required.
‘You’re not going to be rushed off your feet, Demelza. This is a new venture, which was deemed necessary because of the expanding number of tourists. Basically, you’re the intermediary between the resort and the hospital.’
He paused. ‘One thing puzzles me. Having read your qualifications and the fact that you were Sister of a busy surgical ward in London for a couple of years, I was wondering why you’d want to take such a relatively undemanding job?’
She raised her eyes to his but his enigmatic expression gave nothing away. ‘My post in London was nearly seven years ago. I left it when I got married. Since then I’ve been running the domestic side of my husband’s family farm.’
His dark eyes searched her face enquiringly. ‘I didn’t know that you’d had such a long gap in your career, but I’m sure the interview panel in London was satisfied with your curriculum vitae otherwise you wouldn’t have been appointed.’
Demelza bristled at the cool tone of his voice. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be well able to cope with this job. My nursing training, my years as a staff nurse and my two years as a sister have equipped me to cope with any medical emergency. And my contract is only for six months, so if at the end of that time it isn’t renewed then—’
‘We’ll see how things work out, Demelza,’ he intervened. ‘I wasn’t questioning your ability to do the job. You may decide you want to take up a more demanding post in the UK, in which case you wouldn’t want to renew your contract.’
He was staring intently at her as he cleared his throat. ‘What does your husband think of all this?’
She felt the familiar churning of emotions whenever anyone referred to Simon. ‘I’m a widow,’ she said quietly.
An expression of deep compassion crossed his face. ‘I’m sorry. Nobody told me. Yes, I can see why you might want to make a fresh start.’ He paused and his voice became gentler. ‘How long have you been widowed?’
‘Six years.’
Nick looked surprised. ‘And you haven’t thought of going back to work before now?’
‘It wasn’t as simple as that. I’ve often wanted to but it wasn’t possible.’
‘And now it is?’
‘Yes. You see, my husband’s brother has recently married a very capable girl and I felt she could safely take over my duties, so I seized my chance.’
It all sounded so easy when she put it like that, but she wasn’t going to fill him in on any of the details, not yet anyway. Not until she knew him better. First she’d lost her husband, then her son, followed by the long years when she’d often felt like a prisoner at the farm, having to cope with her own emotional suffering and that of Simon’s parents, who’d clung to her as if she were their real daughter.
Then she’d had to see if the new daughter-in-law had been willing to replace her and had the necessary skills to cope with what had become a very demanding job, both physically and emotionally. Only when she’d been absolutely sure that Jane could fill her shoes had she planned her escape.
She raised her eyes and saw that Nick was still watching her with a puzzled expression.
‘You look like a woman who’s suffered,’ he said quietly, his hand reaching across the table to cover her own.
The touch of his fingers unnerved her. A woman could lose herself looking into this charismatic man’s eyes, those dark brown pools of compassion. He would be an excellent doctor. She wouldn’t mind being his patient if he put on that expression when he cared for her. It was a poignant moment for her. Another step towards joining the human race again.
Ianni came dashing outside, holding his copy book for Demelza to read. She looked at the beautifully formed characters, one page in Greek and one page in English.
‘It’s very good, Ianni.’
The little boy smiled. ‘So, are we all going to Giorgio’s, Dad?’
Nick looked at Demelza enquiringly.
She smiled. ‘I’d like that very much.’
Ianni put his small hand in hers and began to tug her away from the table. ‘Come on, then!’
Giorgio’s taverna exuded warmth and hospitality. Giorgio himself, a gnarled, weather-beaten character of indeterminate age, definitely on the wrong side of fifty but with the mischievous grin of a twenty-year-old, was playing an accordion and singing a lively song in Greek. His eyes lit up as they walked in and he nodded his head towards Nick before quickly finishing the song, putting down his accordion and hurrying over to greet the newcomers.
‘Nico!’ Giorgio greeted the younger man with an enthusiastic hug, before reaching down to hoist little Ianni onto his shoulder, chattering to the young boy in rapid Greek.
Ianni laughed at what was said to him and replied in a rapid torrent that had the taverna owner laughing along with him. Demelza felt sure that whatever was under discussion had something to do with her. She hung back, reluctant to break up the warm ambience of the group, but Giorgio, still with the boy on his shoulder, held out his hand and grasped hers.
‘Welcome,’ he said enthusiastically. ‘What will you have to drink? Any friend of Nico is already a friend of mine. Drinks on the house! Ouzo? Retsina…?’
‘Lemonade, please,’ Demelza said quickly, as they were shown to a table on a large, vine-covered terrace overlooking the bay.
Giorgio raised one dark, bushy eyebrow at her request. ‘Lemonade is for the children. I will bring you a bottle of beautiful wine. They make it across the water in Crete. You will like it, Demelza.’
‘And a bottle of water to go with it, please, Giorgio,’ Nick said quickly.
He was smiling contentedly as he settled himself against the back of his ancient iron seat, looking at Demelza across the table. Ianni had pulled his chair close to hers. Giorgio had already returned to his accordion and was singing again whilst a couple of charming young waiters were setting out wine, glasses and a basket of bread on the table.
She found herself relaxing as she hadn’t done for years. Looking out beyond the terrace, she saw the sun dipping down behind the mountains across the bay, casting variegated shadows over the water. The sun was a fiery red as it disappeared and the sky glowed with a diffusion of pinks and orange.
‘Come and choose what you would like to eat.’ Nick stood up and led Demelza over towards the interior of the taverna.
The kitchen was chaotic. A middle-aged woman—Giorgio’s wife, presumably—was standing beside a huge cooking range, stirring something in a large pan. She lifted one hand to wave across at Nick and Demelza before continuing her stirring, smiling at them as they surveyed the vast array of dishes set out for their inspection. Nick explained what each dish contained as he gave Demelza a guided tour of what was on offer.
Lamb stew, moussaka, various kinds of chicken, aubergine, beef stiffado, which was a kind of savoury casserole, fish, lobster, prawns…She found it difficult to decide. It had been a long day since she’d checked in at Gatwick Airport and all the new experiences were beginning to overwhelm her.
‘Would you like me to choose?’ Nick asked quietly.
She nodded gratefully. ‘Something small for me. Perhaps—’
‘I’ll get something we can share,’ he told her.
When the food arrived at the table, Demelza found she could pick and choose from the plates of mezze, different succulent Greek dishes set out in an appetising way. The small helpings of aubergine, stuffed vine leaves called dolmades, prawns, grilled fish and chicken stimulated her appetite and tasted delicious washed down with the Cretan wine.
‘I hadn’t realised I was so hungry,’ she said, as she put down her fork and leaned back against her chair.
The sky was now dark, but lit up by a crescent moon. Behind the taverna, she could just make out the outline of the mysterious hills, waiting to be explored whenever she was able to find the time in her new life. She was sure she could detect the smell of the oregano which she’d noticed on the hillside above her apartment. It was an idyllic setting in which to live and work.
Ianni, pulling his chair even closer to hers, had laid his head on her lap and closed his eyes. Automatically, she reached for the small boy and pulled him onto her lap, where he fell into a deep sleep.
Demelza looked across the table at Nick who was watching her, a strange expression on his face.
‘Here, let me take him,’ he said quietly. ‘Ianni can become a bit of a weight when he’s dead to the world.’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t mind,’ she said softly.
That was an understatement if ever there was one! She was revelling in the feeling of this small, sleeping child on her lap.
The noise of plates clattering onto tables, people laughing and joking, Giorgio playing his accordion and singing loudly didn’t disturb young Ianni.
‘I’d better take Ianni to bed soon,’ Nick said. ‘I usually have him settled by now.’ He continued to watch her across the table. ‘You look as if you’re used to children.’
She realised that Nick was trying discreetly to find out if she had any of her own. Everyone always did. Sooner or later the dreaded question would surface and she would have to steel herself to make a reply.
‘I love children,’ she said slowly. ‘I was expecting a little boy, six years ago, but I miscarried when I was six months pregnant.’
She swallowed hard, breathing deeply as she’d learned to do—anything to prevent herself from crying. She should have got over it by now. Other people did but for some reason the dreams of what might have been wouldn’t go away. If Simon hadn’t died before she’d lost the baby they would have had another child and her miscarriage would be a distant memory.
‘I’m sorry. That must have been awful for you.’
Nick’s voice was sympathetic and sincere. She raised her eyes from the sleeping child and looked at him. She felt she could trust him.
‘Sometimes I feel as if I’ll never get over it.’
He reached across the table and took her hand in his. ‘You’ll never forget, but you will get over it in time. Grief doesn’t last for ever even though it seems as if it will.’
She bit her lip. Why was she confiding in this relative stranger? She’d said more to him than she’d admitted to anyone for a long time.
‘If you’d been able to have another child, that would have eased some of the grief in your heart,’ he said, his voice husky with emotion.
She gazed into the dark, expressive eyes. Here was a man who was used to counselling his patients in their unhappiness. He’d understood her feelings exactly. It was good to find someone she could really trust. For so long she’d kept her feelings bottled up, trying to appear strong and brave for the rest of Simon’s family.
‘I was surrounded by Simon’s family, but there were times when I felt I was totally alone in my grief,’ she said quietly. ‘I felt there was no one who understood what I was going through.’
Nick nodded his head sympathetically. ‘It’s a terrible thing to lose your partner in life.’
She swallowed hard. From his understanding tone, she began to wonder if Ianni’s mother was dead.
‘Are you…bringing up Ianni by yourself?’ Demelza asked carefully.
Nick’s eyes flickered but his expression didn’t change. ‘Ianni’s mother lives in England.’
‘Does Ianni spend time with her?’
‘Sometimes, but Lydia leads a very busy life and finds it difficult to fit Ianni into her complicated schedule. Actually, she’s coming out for a holiday some time this year.’
‘That will be nice.’
Nick raised an eyebrow. ‘Nice for Ianni, I hope. Lydia will be staying at the beach resort, of course. I couldn’t cope with having her at the apartment. We’re divorced.’
Demelza felt a sudden change taking place in her emotions. She had no designs on this charming, sympathetic doctor whatsoever—indeed, on any man who might cross her path—but the fact that he was relatively free made him certainly more interesting.
Nick stood up and came round to her chair, reaching down to take his sleeping son into his arms. She felt the brush of his strong hands against her as she released the small boy. It was a warm, comforting feeling, this contact with a compassionate man. He hadn’t told her to snap out of it, to pull herself together, to get on with her life. But for the first time in years that was exactly what she felt she should do.