Game of Scones by Samantha Tonge Page B

on Wednesday, to the ruins of the Asklepion healing temple.
    ‘This Henrik sounds like a good man – you have lots in common?’
    ‘Yes.’ I ran my hand across the red and brown mosaic patterned bed quilt. ‘We are both ambitious and share the same life-goals.’
    She lifted her chin. ‘Like having children?’
    ‘Eventually.’
    She’d taken my hand and squeezed it tight. ‘Remember how you always said you’d never send your little ones to boarding school.’
    I’d nodded.
    ‘I am glad you’ve found a man who shares your principles. Is important, no?’ Grandma stared at me hard, as my cheeks flushed. I had the feeling she was finally getting back to being the savvy woman of old.
    ‘Um, yes. Of course,’ I’d said, with a cheerful tone. ‘And he’s loyal, caring…’ I went on to mention the surprise day out arranged for me today, hard as it was to keep Henrik’s intended marriage proposal secret. And perhaps it was just as well, as later today, after we’d had brunch and Henrik started up the engine of the Range Rover, he still hadn’t come clean and revealed the day’s plans.
    Could I have been wrong? What if he and Stavros had been talking about something else? I concentrated for a moment. No – it all made sense. Henrik combining a holiday with a wedding fitted perfectly with his spendthrift nature. However, to my surprise we didn’t head north towards Kos Town, but turned onto the highway leading south-west and a ball of stress inside me deflated for one second as if I’d imagined this whole proposal thing. I swallowed, admitting to myself that this probably meant I wasn’t ready to say “yes”.
    ‘Tyrionitsa?’ I mumbled as we turned off the main road, to head towards this village. Over the years I’d visited this quaint little place a few times. A similar size to Taxos, it had a stunning beach. Uncle Christos would take me and Niko there to collect shells – and what an array of beautiful colours and sizes. I found spotted cones, speckled periwinkles and curvy whelks, all washed up onto the finest sand. I grinned to myself. With string, Niko made me a bikini top, cheekily using a small pair of scallop shells. He got a handful of wet sea grass down his top, for that.
    As we neared, I squinted at a big board saying “Welcome to Tyrionitsa”. It was in the shape of a mermaid. Ah yes – the legend of the kind-hearted mythical creature, who had supposedly swum nearby and granted wishes to children with her magic comb. A local potter would tell us those legendary tales, whilst making ornaments out of shells. I still had one, back at the flat – it was a seagull with a cone shell for a peak and periwinkles for eyes. All of his goods represented animals or plants and weren’t like the gaudy souvenirs you could pick up in Kos Town.
    Like Taxos, Tyrionitsa was practically untouched by tourism, so why had the council erected that cartoonish board?
    ‘Wow!’ I leant forward as the sea came into view, my turmoil about Henrik and Niko and Henrik and – you get the picture – forgotten. But I wasn’t admiring the frothy white break of the waves or speeding yachts, in the distance. My jaw dropped instead at the nearby sight of an ugly building. A huge concrete rectangle, it had a neon sign at the front bearing a picture of skittles and a bowling ball. Next to it was a square shaped construction with a sign saying “Disco Tyrionitsa”.
    ‘Impressive, isn’t it?’ said Henrik and a grin spread across his face. ‘Have you ever been here?’
    ‘Yes, but… I hardly recognise it, now.’
    My jaw remained open as we drove into the town. Gone were the higgledy-piggledy blue and white houses and restaurants I remembered. Instead groups of young tourists milled in and out of glitzy burger bars. I wound down my window, to hear grinding pop music waft in from a swanky pub. Next to that stood an American style ice cream parlour and further along, a glass-fronted slot machine arcade. Finally we