Winter Hearts

Choosy Macaroni

Siana got ready quickly, locking up and running down the stairs to knock on her father's door. She and Leo had reluctantly parted ways, he more than her, as she was excited to go early to visit her aunt's kitchen and help with the preparations. They would see each other later, when he and the boys arrived for the dinner.

Mikhalis opened in a rush, his hair dripping wet as he buttoned his shirt.

"Why do we have to go so early, Ana?" he asked irritably, turning to go back into the flat. Siana bounced in after him, excited to get going.

"Awww don't you want to see everyone all dressed up nicely and celebrating George's return?" she asked excitedly.

Mikhalis rolled his eyes. "Like when he came back at Easter? Not really. Honestly, you go on ahead and I will bring the boys."

"You're already ready! Look, I'll dry your hair for you," she grabbed a the towel he had through across a chair and proceeded to rub his hair dry at whip speed. He protested, but before he could stop, she had pulled it away with panache, and he was surprised to find his hair was quite dry.

"How-?"

"I think it's a girl thing, we have different arm muscles," she said impatiently, dropping the towel on the chair, grabbing his jacket and ushering him out the door.

They walked to the hotel, which was a couple of parallel streets away, heading east along the shore. She remembered the last time she had come out this way, she was walking back home alone from that night at the club on the cliff. Well, she thought she had been alone. She had been lucky that Leo had come after her when she had walked alone out into the night. Her thoughts turned to the earlier part of that night.

It seemed like that kiss had only happened yesterday, but the night itself seemed so long ago. She turned to her dad.

"Has anyone found those two guys? The one I hit? What if he was badly hurt?"

Mikhalis shrugged. "If he had any sense in him he would go to a hospital. But if he's illegal or has a record, he may not want to do that."

"But-"

"Ana, he has been surviving for longer than the time he has known you. There isn't much we can do if he has disappeared. It's been a week, so if he hasn't collapsed from infection or pain, he is probably out helping his friend terrorise other people."

Mikhalis hugged her round the shoulder as they walked.

"Anyway, I'm more concerned about the crazy looking one. I've been trying to figure out whether they are just trying to survive together, or if one is the leader of the other."

They approached the hotel down a single-laned road and soon came to an open air carpark that sat right on the water front. There was a tiny strip of pebble beach where the water lapped gently against the stones, and the hotel faced the water and the glorious setting sun. Her uncle, or rather her grandfather, had purchased the land after the war and the family had developed it and had worked hard to make it a profitable family business.

At ten stories high, it was no small hotel, and the interior, though well-appointed, boasted a simplicity that suited less european tastes and went well with a younger, family crowd.

They walked through the double door entry and found the front lobby to be empty except for Panos, who was setting up for a band in the far corner.

Siana squealed, giving Panos a fright.

"Oh god! Are we having bouzoukia tonight?!" she asked breathlessly. She LOVED bouzoukia - greek mandolins and similar, banjo-like instruments that were reminiscent of the malay gambus. The music was middle-eastern, oriental and had a lot of pathos and sentiment to it, and there were many sorts of dances to dance, which she felt up for.