Page 114 of Summer in Greece

By then, Inspector Glassman had me so firmly around the waist that my feet were off the floor. ‘Drop the paddle,’ he said sternly.

I did, but Boniface rushed towards me yelling about his elbow, one big hand open and going for my throat. I picked up both feet and pushed him away with all the force I had in my legs. He staggered back, unbalanced, and landed on the cobbles on his backside, banging his elbow again, and roaring with rage.

By this time, a crowd had gathered. They started to point and laugh, and no wonder. A ridiculous tableau we were, covered in white flour, bellowing, and screaming, and flailing our arms and legs. However, the crowd’s mockery further infuriated Boniface. ‘Clear off, you nosy parkers!’ he yelled, clumsily getting to his feet and rushing at them. His injured arm hung limply, while the other displayed a clenched fist that threatened to break any nose that came within striking distance.

Eventually, I found myself going to the police station to make a statement.

‘You know I’ll have to lock you up for your own safety, Miss Smith. The doctor in hospital . . . I could not let you stay out there on your own with Boniface on the loose,’ Inspector Glassman said.

‘No, Inspector, you have it wrong. You must lock me up for Mr Boniface’s safety. Because I warn you, I cannot guarantee that I shall remain in control of my temper, should I find myself in the proximity of that despicable creature.’ My insides trembled like Mrs Cooper’s blancmange.

CHAPTER 47

SHELLY

Dover, present day.

SUMMER HEADED TOWARDS AUTUMN. SHELLY spoke to Harry every day and was relieved to hear that Elias had made a full recovery. Shelly ached to be with Harry and made him describe the weather, the dives, the landscape and the wildlife each time he phoned, dreaming she was right there with the man she loved.

‘Come over before the season ends, while the water’s still warm.’

Shelly sighed into the phone, remembering the bliss of an empty beach, a cloudless sky, warm smiles and welcoming faces.

‘Let’s get a dive in, and I can show you the rest of the island,’ Harry said. ‘Or, you said you wanted to go to Syros. We could go over for a few days. I’ll go completely crazy if I don’t see you soon, my darling.’

‘Yes, oh, yes! I’d love to. I’ll try to arrange it. Last week in October?’

‘Perfect. Have you listened to all the tapes now?’ Harry asked.

‘I’ve one to go. Perhaps I could share them with you, what do you think?’

‘Sure, I’d love to hear her speaking about Kea. You could fly into Syros. They have an airport.’

‘Gertie went from Kea to Syros in a caïque, so I find that idea most appealing.’

‘So, you arrange the first leg, to Kea, and I’ll arrange the rest,’ Harry said. ‘I really can’t wait to see you again.’

Shelly longed to see him too. She’d been thinking about inviting Harry and his sons for Christmas. With this in mind, she decided on a schedule of renovations and decoration. DJ insisted on doing any heavy work, and Eve was adamant she be style consultant.

It was the end of August, when Eve arrived at White Cottage with a party box of M&S sushi and two bottles of Grüner Veltliner. Eve watched Shelly zip herself into a disposable overall. ‘I guess from the outfit, you’re not joining me as one of the catering staff?’

Shelly laughed and fastened the strap on her yellow builder’s helmet. ‘Nope. Demolition squad, that’s me!’

‘Well, I hope you don’t expect me to dress in that garb, because in truth, I’d rather die!’

DJ rolled his sleeves and grinned. ‘We’ve got a pair of Gucci overalls for you, Eve, so you’ve got no excuse.’

‘Oh, excuse me, young man, I’m pulling rank. Lowly builders are not allowed to interfere with the catering management, if you don’t mind. We’re an entirely superior breed. However, you are exceedingly handsome,’ Eve said with her nose in the air. ‘So, you can, in fact, interfere with me as much as you like.’

‘Eve!’ Shelly cried. ‘Stop flirting with my son. You’re old enough to be his mother.’

‘Like you, you mean?’ Eve replied in a flash, and they all burst into laughter.

Gordon came into the kitchen. ‘I’m starving. ’Ere, d’you want me to stick those fishcakes in the microwave, Eve?’ Gordon asked.

Eve placed her forearm against her forehead and faked a swoon. ‘Touch them with those builder’s fingernails and I will kill you myself, Mr Summer!’

Gordon turned to his grandson. ‘What’ve these girls got yer doing now then, DJ? It looks like Armageddon in ’ere!’