Those Summer Nights (Corfu, Greek Island Romance) by Mandy Baggot

Harry. ‘Look at me! Look at me!’
    ‘What’s happened?’ Harry moved closer, bending to inspect her. ‘Have you got an allergy?’
    ‘No! They’re bloody bites aren’t they?! From God knows what! Fleas from all the dust and grime in this place, or mosquitoes!’ Imogen screwed her face up, trying to ignore the itch and heat.
    Harry stood up, his head turning left. ‘Did you leave the windows open all night?’ He looked puzzled. ‘I definitely shut them before I went to sleep.’
    ‘Well… the whole place was like an oven. I had to let some air in somehow!’
    She watched her brother march over to the windows and pull them shut. ‘That will be it then. Corfu is well known for its mosquitoes, Immy. I thought you read the guidebook.’
    ‘I did… but it was all stunning scenery and flora and fauna and—’
    ‘Ah-ha!’ Harry said, pointing an accusing finger. ‘And that’s why the mosquitoes love it so much. Lots of vegetation.’
    ‘Tell me there’s a cure.’
    ‘I’ve got some bite cream,’ Harry answered. His eyes went from her legs to her face. ‘Just let me find it before you look in the mirror.’
    ‘What?’ Imogen’s hands went to her face and straightaway the itch spread. ‘You have got to be kidding me? Where’s the mirror?’
    ‘It’s not too bad, well, not from one side,’ Harry began. ‘The cream will bring the redness down.’
    ‘Get me a bloody mirror now!’
----
    I t was official . Imogen looked like a government advertisement about the dangers of not being vaccinated against measles. She had no idea you were supposed to close every window, douse yourself and the entire room in jungle-strength insect repellent to achieve a bite-free good night’s sleep. Now, she was drenched in sweat from sweeping and clearing broken furniture in already thirty-degree heat in preparation for the skip’s arrival… some time.
    The outside area didn’t look much different except the broken chairs and tables were piled to one side. She leant on her broom and wiped a forearm over her brow.
    ‘ Kalimera ,’ a soft male voice greeted.
    Imogen looked up to see a Greek man in his twenties standing in the entrance of the restaurant, dressed in jeans and a plain red t-shirt covered in paint. He had a mop of dark curly hair and large brown eyes that gave him a child-like quality. This had to be the cousin Panos Dimitriou had offered to help.
    ‘Hello, you must be…’ What had Panos said his name was?
    ‘Risto,’ the young man introduced himself.
    ‘Hello! Calamari!’ Harry greeted, bursting out onto the terrace, hair flopping with every stride. ‘It’s very good of you to help. Very generous.’
    Imogen thought about Panos’ offer to buy the restaurant. She hadn’t told Harry about that and she really didn’t know why. She cleared her throat and addressed Risto.
    ‘So, we’re just clearing everything to one side out here and in the main room. Broken things, of which there are many,’ Imogen said.
    Risto nodded. ‘Yes, I see.’ He looked at the brush Imogen was holding. ‘You have another of these?’
    ‘I’ll find something,’ Harry said. ‘Then we can get this place looking more like the restaurant I dreamed about last night.’

18
The restaurant, Acharavi Beachfront
    W earing sun cream , bite cream and insect repellent, sweat trickling down her back, hair plastered to her red, blotchy face, Imogen stopped sweeping, stepped back and took in her last couple of hours of handiwork. Thanks to Harry and Risto putting all the rubbish and broken furniture in the skip, salvaging what could be repaired and generally shifting everything from the front terrace, it now looked… almost good.
    She leaned against the broom handle and looked hard around the open air terrace. With everything clean and bare apart from the thicket of weeds around the perimeter, it looked so different to the wreck they’d encountered yesterday. The tiles on the floor were actually made up of tiny pebbles –