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Authors: Victoria Hislop
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a bold green dress to offset the translucent aquamarines. The sleeves finished at the elbow to ensure that the bangle was visible. The skirt was full and gathered, accentuating her small waist.
‘Those colours really suit you,’ murmured Emine, combing through Aphroditi’s waist-length hair. ‘You look so beautiful!’
‘You are very sweet. I feel a bit weary today. It was a long night.’
‘Are your parents staying for a while?’ Savina was polishing the mirror next to where Aphroditi was sitting.
‘No, I’m afraid not …’ said Aphroditi, their eyes meeting in the glass. ‘They’ve gone already. You know what my mother’s like.’
Both the women in the salon understood entirely.
Emine remembered the first time she had seen Artemis Markides after her son’s death. She seemed to have shrunk to half her previous size, and Emine swore to friends that the woman’s hair had gone from mahogany brown to grey overnight.
‘I have always heard it can happen,’ she reported, ‘and I never believed it. But I swear to you I saw it with my own eyes
.
’
‘Oh, it’s a shame they were in such a hurry to leave,’ said Savina. ‘I’ve heard the weather is so bad in England. And your mother used to like sitting in the sunshine.’
‘I’m not sure she likes anything much these days …’ said Aphroditi.
There was a pause.
‘Can you tidy it? Put it up again, without all those wispy bits?’ she asked.
Emine ran her comb once again through Aphroditi’s long, thick tresses and divided them into two, then both hairdressers began to plait, eventually winding them round and round, creating a bun that was positioned higher on her head than it had been the previous evening. The hair was heavy and shiny and needed dozens of pins to hold it in place.
The height of the hair somehow emphasised her long, elegant neck. Swept upwards and away from her face, it also meant that the earrings were more exposed.
Savina held a mirror up behind Aphroditi so that she had a view of the result from behind.
‘
Katapliktika!
’ she said. ‘Fantastic!’
‘Almost better than last night,’ said Emine.
‘Tonight is even more important,’ said Aphroditi, suddenly cheered by the familiar company of the women. With Emine and Savina, she found she could relax. She did not have to act the boss’s wife.
‘It’s the first proper evening. The real beginning.’
‘You sound excited.’
‘I am. I really am. And so is Savvas.’
‘Like your saint’s day when you’re a child. You dream of it but never think it will actually come.’
‘We’ve been planning it all for so long. And now it’s here.’
‘Who’s going to be there?’
‘Oh, everyone who is staying in the hotel. And we’re having something like a banquet.’
Despite the sophistication of her appearance, Aphroditi displayed the excitement of a child. She was on her feet now and twirled round, pirouetting like a doll on a musical box.
Smiling, both the other women stood back to admire her. All three of them were reflected in the mirror and briefly, with Aphroditi in the middle, they held hands.
Aphroditi released her hold.
‘I must go,’ she said. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow. And thank you. Thank you for everything.’
When she reached the foyer, Savvas was already greeting the first guests and guiding them towards the terrace.
Markos was outside, directing his staff to serve drinks. Frau Bruchmeyer was close by, glass in hand, chatting to some German guests. As she waved her hands about to emphasise a point, the heavy rings on her slender fingers rattled, and her charm bracelet tinkled. She was full of enthusiasm for her new home, and the other guests were fascinated to hear how it had come about that she lived day after day under the blue Cyprus skies.
Markos enjoyed Frau Bruchmeyer’s company. The elegant septuagenarian had an appetite for life that he admired, and she was often the last person to leave the bar. Sometimes Markos daringly gave
‘Those colours really suit you,’ murmured Emine, combing through Aphroditi’s waist-length hair. ‘You look so beautiful!’
‘You are very sweet. I feel a bit weary today. It was a long night.’
‘Are your parents staying for a while?’ Savina was polishing the mirror next to where Aphroditi was sitting.
‘No, I’m afraid not …’ said Aphroditi, their eyes meeting in the glass. ‘They’ve gone already. You know what my mother’s like.’
Both the women in the salon understood entirely.
Emine remembered the first time she had seen Artemis Markides after her son’s death. She seemed to have shrunk to half her previous size, and Emine swore to friends that the woman’s hair had gone from mahogany brown to grey overnight.
‘I have always heard it can happen,’ she reported, ‘and I never believed it. But I swear to you I saw it with my own eyes
.
’
‘Oh, it’s a shame they were in such a hurry to leave,’ said Savina. ‘I’ve heard the weather is so bad in England. And your mother used to like sitting in the sunshine.’
‘I’m not sure she likes anything much these days …’ said Aphroditi.
There was a pause.
‘Can you tidy it? Put it up again, without all those wispy bits?’ she asked.
Emine ran her comb once again through Aphroditi’s long, thick tresses and divided them into two, then both hairdressers began to plait, eventually winding them round and round, creating a bun that was positioned higher on her head than it had been the previous evening. The hair was heavy and shiny and needed dozens of pins to hold it in place.
The height of the hair somehow emphasised her long, elegant neck. Swept upwards and away from her face, it also meant that the earrings were more exposed.
Savina held a mirror up behind Aphroditi so that she had a view of the result from behind.
‘
Katapliktika!
’ she said. ‘Fantastic!’
‘Almost better than last night,’ said Emine.
‘Tonight is even more important,’ said Aphroditi, suddenly cheered by the familiar company of the women. With Emine and Savina, she found she could relax. She did not have to act the boss’s wife.
‘It’s the first proper evening. The real beginning.’
‘You sound excited.’
‘I am. I really am. And so is Savvas.’
‘Like your saint’s day when you’re a child. You dream of it but never think it will actually come.’
‘We’ve been planning it all for so long. And now it’s here.’
‘Who’s going to be there?’
‘Oh, everyone who is staying in the hotel. And we’re having something like a banquet.’
Despite the sophistication of her appearance, Aphroditi displayed the excitement of a child. She was on her feet now and twirled round, pirouetting like a doll on a musical box.
Smiling, both the other women stood back to admire her. All three of them were reflected in the mirror and briefly, with Aphroditi in the middle, they held hands.
Aphroditi released her hold.
‘I must go,’ she said. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow. And thank you. Thank you for everything.’
When she reached the foyer, Savvas was already greeting the first guests and guiding them towards the terrace.
Markos was outside, directing his staff to serve drinks. Frau Bruchmeyer was close by, glass in hand, chatting to some German guests. As she waved her hands about to emphasise a point, the heavy rings on her slender fingers rattled, and her charm bracelet tinkled. She was full of enthusiasm for her new home, and the other guests were fascinated to hear how it had come about that she lived day after day under the blue Cyprus skies.
Markos enjoyed Frau Bruchmeyer’s company. The elegant septuagenarian had an appetite for life that he admired, and she was often the last person to leave the bar. Sometimes Markos daringly gave
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