My Greek Island Summer Read online

  Also by mandy baggot

  One Last Greek Summer

  One Christmas Star

  One Night on Ice

  One Summer in Nashville

  Coming soon

  A Perfect Paris Christmas

  MY GREEK ISLAND SUMMER

  Mandy Baggot

  AN IMPRINT OF HEAD OF ZEUS

  www.ariafiction.com

  First published in the United Kingdom in 2020 by Aria, an imprint of Head of Zeus Ltd

  Copyright © Mandy Baggot, 2020

  The moral right of Mandy Baggot to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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

  ISBN 9781838933425

  Cover design: Cherie Chapman

  Aria

  c/o Head of Zeus

  First Floor East

  5–8 Hardwick Street

  London EC1R 4RG

  www.ariafiction.com

  Contents

  Welcome Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One: It’s A Wrap, Amesbury, Wiltshire, UK

  Chapter Two: Wetherspoons, Amesbury, Wiltshire, UK

  Chapter Three: It’s A Wrap, Amesbury, Wiltshire, UK

  Chapter Four: London, UK

  Chapter Five: It’s A Wrap, Amesbury, Wiltshire, UK

  Chapter Six: Heathrow Airport, London

  Chapter Seven: Flight to Athens, Greece

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten: Athens International Airport, Athens, Greece

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve: Sofitel Athens Airport, Athens

  Chapter Thirteen: Mesoghaia Restaurant, Sofitel Hotel, Athens

  Chapter Fourteen: Plaka District, Athens

  Chapter Fifteen: Anafiotika, Athens

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen: Athens International Airport, Athens

  Chapter Eighteen: On board the flight from Athens to Corfu

  Chapter Nineteen: Argostoli, Kefalonia, Greece

  Chapter Twenty: Karavomilos, Kefalonia, Greece

  Chapter Twenty-One: Melissani Cave, Kefalonia

  Chapter Twenty-Two: Karavomilos Taverna, Karavomilos

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five: On board the flight from Kefalonia to Corfu

  Chapter Twenty-Six: Ioannis Kapodistrias Airport, Corfu

  Chapter Twenty-Seven: Kerasia

  Chapter Twenty-Eight: Liakada Village

  Chapter Twenty-Nine: Villa Selino, Kerasia

  Chapter Thirty: Liakada Village

  Chapter Thirty-One: Taverna Kerasia, Kerasia Beach

  Chapter Thirty-Two: Villa Selino, Kerasia

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four: Imerolia Fish Taverna, Imerolia

  Chapter Thirty-Five: Liakada Village

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight: Villa Selino, Kerasia

  Chapter Thirty-Nine: Avlaki Beach

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two: Villa Selino, Kerasia

  Chapter Forty-Three: Panos’s Taverna, Liakada

  Chapter Forty-Four: Liakada Village

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six: Tavernaki Taverna, Kassiopi

  Chapter Forty-Seven: Kassiopi Castle

  Chapter Forty-Eight: Kerasia Beach

  Chapter Forty-Nine: Villa Selino

  Chapter Fifty: Liakada Village

  Chapter Fifty-One: Villa Selino

  Chapter Fifty-Two: Kouloura

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Chapter Fifty-Four: Villa Selino

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Chapter Fifty-Six: Liakada

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Chapter Fifty-Eight: Villa Selino

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Chapter Sixty: Panos’s Taverna, Liakada Village

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Epilogue: Liakada Village

  Acknowledgements

  Letter from Mandy

  About Mandy Baggot

  Become an Aria Addict

  This, my 20th book, is for YOU! To all my readers out there who have supported my books either from the very beginning or have joined in along the way and are playing catch up!

  THANK YOU all so much from the bottom of my heart for allowing me to do this writing business as a full-time job so I can keep sharing my stories with you! Here’s to the next 20 books!

  One

  It’s A Wrap, Amesbury, Wiltshire, UK

  ‘Soldiers!’

  Twenty-five-year-old Becky Rose raised her head from bread and watched her sister Megan burst through the door of sandwich-making enterprise, It’s A Wrap, looking less than her usually super-composed self. Megan’s channelling-Amanda-Holden red trouser suit was crinkled like she’d been contorted into a magician’s suitcase and locked in there for hours and her usually perfect sleek bob of blonde hair was now more comedian Milton Jones than it was Irina Shayk. Megan was also sweating, Becky noticed. Megan didn’t ever sweat. She barely even glowed getting changed in the heady close-to-rainforest humidity of the leisure centre. Becky, on the other hand – shorter, not blonde, never really feeling confident in body-sculpting all-in-ones – always made a puddle on the floor big enough to give home to a couple of ducks…

  Becky stopped spreading the multi-grain loaf and opened her mouth to answer her sister. Her colleague, sixty-three-year-old Hazel, beat her to it.

  ‘Megan, dear, I know it’s your business and I’m just staff, but we did decide at the crisis meeting last September that it wasn’t economically viable, nor risk-assessment friendly, to start branching out into the breakfast arena.’

  ‘What?’ Megan asked, looking confused. She blew out a breath, moving through their lunch-making industrial kitchen, to the door of her office. She dumped files she was holding onto her desk before coming back in and facing her employees. ‘I never called it a crisis meeting.’

  She had called it a crisis meeting, Becky remembered. Another sandwich-making business had started up just a couple of miles away in Durrington and Megan had been insistent that all their customers were going to leave for the lure of new and exciting… and apparently a company with a budget that allowed them to advertise on local radio. Of course, bankruptcy hadn’t happened, and Becky knew that was because It’s A Wrap offered things their customers couldn’t get anywhere else. The kind of personalised that took time, effort and a little bit of magic. And that was solely down to her.

  ‘Boiled eggs and soldiers,’ Hazel remarked, mixing up a bowl of their legendary cheese and spring onion filling. The cheese was sourced locally – from cows who all had names which apparently made them exceedingly happy and therefore the producers of award-winning flavoursome cheddar – and the spring onions were grown in the small garden at the back of their premises. ‘I know we really, really considered breakfast baps, but we agreed no one likes a cold sausage and—’

  ‘Who said anything about boiled eggs?’ Megan asked. ‘God, this radio is far too loud again. I’ve told you
before, if it’s up past five on the volume button the yoga people next door come round and complain.’ Gone were the days when Becky and Megan used to make their parents mad with music cranked up to eleven and all the best Girls Aloud moves vibrating the floorboards. Becky couldn’t actually remember the last time they had been to the leisure centre together either…

  As soon as Jess Glynne was turned lower, mum-of-triplets, thirty-something Shelley looked up from her tortilla-rolling like she hadn’t spiritually been in the room before, but had now had a deep, seismic awakening. ‘Alright, Megan? How did the meeting go?’

  ‘Finally!’ Megan exclaimed, arms flailing out. ‘At least one of you listened to me properly before I left.’

  ‘I was listening to you,’ Hazel said, frowning as she forked the mixture. ‘You said you had to pick up something of Dean’s from the dry cleaner.’

  Becky grimaced a little. Dean always needed something dry cleaned. He was the messiest eater she had ever encountered. He could make a mess out of swallowing air. ‘And you just said something about soldiers.’

  ‘Yes!’ Megan said, pressing buttons on the coffee machine and slipping a tiny espresso cup underneath the spout. ‘But the ones dressed in khaki camouflage. Not the ones made out of toast.’

  ‘Oh,’ Hazel said like she had suddenly had her eyes opened to online shopping. ‘Well, now I’m confused. Is Dean joining the army? I thought he was quite settled with the conservatory-building people.’

  ‘The contract!’ Becky exclaimed, suddenly. ‘You got the contract!’ She immediately realised what her sister meant. ‘You got the contract at the army camp!’

  ‘I got the contract at the camp!’ Megan repeated, all high-pitched and excitable. She picked up the tiny cup and swigged the coffee back in one. ‘I pitched for my absolute life. I’m sure there was a brigadier in the room – well, he looked like he could be a brigadier if he wasn’t already – but they all seemed pretty unmoved at the beginning, even when I mentioned we grow our own vegetables and herbs…’

  Becky smiled at her sister’s excitement. It had been Becky’s idea to grow their own vegetables and herbs. Megan hadn’t been on board straightaway, as she was all about costs and bottom lines, until Becky convinced her that quality was more important these days. If customers had enough money to buy sandwiches instead of making them, they would certainly pay an extra few pence for something memorable. And that was where Becky excelled. She made her sandwiches memorable and kept the customers coming back. And it all went completely under Megan’s radar. But, Becky supposed, you couldn’t be all over everything when you were the boss. And Becky was, kind of – a lot – hiding it from her…

  ‘So, what did you do?’ Shelley asked, adjusting the hairnet they all had to wear over their heads because no one wanted a stray strand in their baguette…

  ‘I…’ Megan started, grinning from ear to ear.

  ‘You got your tits out! Didn’t you? You got your tits out!’ Shelley announced at the volume of the roar of an Isle of Man TT motorbike.

  ‘Shelley!’ Hazel admonished. ‘I thought we agreed on what was acceptable language in the workplace.’

  ‘Well,’ Shelley began, glove-covered hand pointing while holding a flapping-yet-to-be-filled tortilla. ‘You said the word “bitch” the other day and I didn’t say a thing about that. And you didn’t contribute to the swear box.’ She inhaled with authority. ‘That’s £1 you’ve cost the Women’s Refuge. I hope you can sleep at night… in your king-size… with more springs than… than… those onions.’ She pointed at the container Hazel was mixing up.

  Hazel shook her head and sighed. ‘I was talking about my neighbour’s dog’s puppies at the time.’

  ‘Puppies! Baps! She definitely got her tits out, whatever you want to call ’em!’

  Megan clapped her hands like she was a schoolteacher losing control of her children. ‘Ladies, I’m telling a story here.’

  ‘I want to hear, Megan,’ Becky told her sister. The army camp contract was a big deal. And if it was as large as she was thinking, it could mean employing a new staff member – maybe even two – or starting earlier in the morning… Actually, that last idea didn’t really appeal. Becky didn’t function well unless she had had time for two mugs of coffee and a blast of feel-good on Spotify.

  ‘I did their assault course,’ Megan announced, pride shining in her eyes, underneath coming-off mascara and wayward liner. It sounded like she really had been put through it. No wonder she was still perspiring.

  ‘What?’ Hazel exclaimed, putting down her spoon and paying Megan her full attention.

  ‘Fucking hell,’ Shelley stated before slapping her hand over her mouth. Then she seemed to realise that she’d sworn and now needed another set of gloves. She quickly mouthed a sorry.

  ‘I’m with Hazel here,’ Becky said. ‘What?’

  ‘Well,’ Megan began. ‘I could just tell that whatever I said it wouldn’t be enough. I knew we wouldn’t be the cheapest option. I’d pushed all the quality, organic, locally sourced angles and they looked more bored than I look when Dean turns on the snooker. So, I had to think on my feet.’

  ‘Don’t tell me you did it in those heels!’ Hazel said, eyes dropping to look at Megan’s favourite pair of killer stilettos she always wore to meetings. Black patent leather, luminous yellow sole. They practically spoke ‘this maker of bread-couture means business’.

  ‘I did,’ Megan squealed. ‘And I had a rather nasty coming-together with the cargo net but, I was doing it for It’s A Wrap. I was doing it for us, our roll-filling family.’

  Becky felt immediately warm inside. She loved it when Megan was like this. It proved that there was a little part of her that was still a team player. It also showed that the business meant more to her than just turning a profit. Making money was obviously all-important, but Becky liked the notion that It’s A Wrap was also about serving the community. And their community was heavily sprinkled with members of the armed forces, which made this particular win all the more special. Maybe, to celebrate, she could suggest they book a court for a game of badminton together some time. Tara never seemed interested in getting together now she had moved in with Jonathan and Becky had been close recently to watching Dexter in its entirety for the second time… from the very beginning.

  ‘You’re not covered in mud though,’ Becky suddenly said. Her sister’s outfit might be crumpled like a discarded McDonald’s take-out bag, but it wasn’t spattered with the brown stuff assault courses were renowned for.

  ‘I put a coat on.’

  ‘Megan!’ Becky said, astounded. ‘It’s twenty-five degrees outside.’ No wonder her sister was sweltering.

  ‘I’m aware,’ Megan answered. ‘I’ve upped the air-con in here a tad.’ She sniffed. ‘The coat’s ruined. I don’t know how I’m going to explain that to Dean, but I’m sure it was one of his old ones… I think.’

  ‘Something else for the dry cleaning?’ Hazel suggested.

  ‘So, what obstacles did you do?’ Shelley wanted to know as she pulled on another set of gloves.

  ‘Well,’ Megan said, adopting an expression Becky only usually saw when her sister was perusing the cocktail menu at the local bar, The Bank. ‘First off was a balance beam.’

  ‘Oh, even in those shoes I bet you nailed that one,’ Becky said proudly. Her sister had always had excellent coordination. Megan had been the queen of gymnastics at school. Becky had been better at team games. Helping her class on the way to netballing victory in a cup game was a particular school career highlight. A lowlight had been losing ten-nil the only time Megan had come to watch.

  ‘I did,’ Megan agreed. ‘All the soldiers were shouting and making a fuss about my shoes and I just ignored them and thundered on.’

  ‘What was next?’ Hazel inquired, her job of combining cheese and onion momentarily forgotten about.

  ‘A trampette onto a low wall – the shoes weren’t ideal for that either, but I only made the minutest of tears in the fabric. Then
it was hopping quickly through two rows of tyres.’ Megan smiled. ‘That one was like trying to avoid too close a contact with the kitchen floor tiles in Dean’s parent’s house at Christmas.’

  ‘Are they that cold?’ Hazel asked.

  ‘No, they have a very ancient dog who sometimes… you know… can’t make it through the night.’

  Poor Nancy had to be twenty by now. Becky liked Nancy a lot more than she liked Dean’s mother.

  ‘I can’t believe the shoes survived,’ Becky said. It was impressive. Maybe she should invest in some killer heels. Except the ‘killer’ part on her feet would probably mean giving her murderous blisters. She was so much more a dressing for comfort kind of girl. Jeans and jumpers, not pencil-skirts and pashminas.

  ‘I can’t believe you did an assault course to get a sandwich-making contract,’ Hazel said. ‘Shouldn’t they be testing you on your knowledge of fillings, or your spreading skills?’

  ‘Oi oi!’ Shelley erupted like she was a lairy hen about to line up the tequila. ‘Deano will know all about her spreading skills.’

  Hazel shook her head and rolled her eyes. ‘Speaks the mother of triplets.’

  ‘Anyway,’ Megan said, waving her hands. ‘I didn’t do the clambering through the wet and frankly grimy-looking tunnel, or the bit where you have to get down and crawl under a net like someone out of Strike Back. But I did the cargo net, well, most of it. Until my shoe got stuck and I had to be rescued by Gunner Mitchison.’ Megan breathed deeply. ‘He was six foot three and almost as wide. You know, in a taut, muscular way.’

  ‘I still don’t know how the fate of their catering came down to you being able to bounce onto a wall and bunny-hop through some tyres,’ Hazel remarked.

  ‘Well,’ Megan said, ‘when I finished they all applauded and the man who might be a brigadier said he had never seen such effort put in to winning a bid before and he said, and I quote, “if your food is even half as tremendous as your determination, then my troops will be going into battle completely satisfied”.’