Page 10 of Deep Blue Lies
NINE
I don’t have time to do much more than drop off my bag before I’m due for my first shift at the Bar Sunset. It’s a good thing it isn’t busy yet, though. I wasn’t entirely honest with Hans that I’ve worked in bars before. But I’ve been in a lot of bars. It can’t be that hard.
Hans shows me around. We stock a couple of international beers, in bottles. There’s Heineken and Carlsberg, and then local beers, Mythos and Zeos. Then there’s two taps on the bar, which run to barrels in the storeroom at the back.
“You know how to change a line?” he asks, and when I hesitate he shakes his head. “Don’t worry. Just keep an eye on them, give me a shout when they’re low.” I’m not quite sure what this means, but I reason I’ll know it when I see it.
He runs quickly through the spirits. We have whisky, brandy, white and dark rum, and then local spirits Metaxa and ouzo.
“There’s Raki too, the locals sometimes ask for it.”
He watches as I serve the first customers, and it is easy enough.
They both ask for beers from the fridge, and all I have to do is pop off the tops.
I’m feeling pretty pleased with myself, until another German comes in and orders a Palisberg.
At first I don’t know what this is, but he helps me by pointing to the tap right in front.
The labels face the customers, not me – and I’ve already forgotten what Hans said was on which.
I then make a right mess of pouring it. I watched Hans earlier, and it looked easy, but while his beer was mostly golden liquid, with a smooth head of foam, mine is more foam than beer.
“What the hell is that?” Hans mutters from beside me. “You pouring a beer or a bubble bath?”
He edges me out of the way with his shoulder.
“Hold the glass at an angle. Like this.” He shows me, and the beer is perfect. Just a dribble of foam running down the side. The customer raises his eyebrows at Hans, as he takes it from him.
“Try again,” Hans passes me another glass. I pour it, and it’s not great but better.
“Slower. Control the flow with the pressure.”
I do, and this time I’m pleased with my effort.
“So where was this bar you worked in before?” is all Hans says.
After that I try to be proactive. I study the cocktail menu, surreptitiously googling to learn how to make the drinks we offer. I think that Hans hasn’t noticed, but when another customer asks for a mojito, he strides across.
“That’s white rum, lime juice?—”
“Sugar and mint leaves.” I brush him out of the way and get on with it. I didn’t completely waste my time at university.
The first few hours fly by, but then there’s a lull in the customers. Hans sidles over.
“What exactly is a pretty girl like you doing all alone on Alythos?”
The question takes me by surprise, and actually I’ve almost forgotten, at least for the moment. I’ve been so focussed on learning the job. I’m cautious though, not sure of how much it’s sensible to tell a guy with friends like Klaus.
“I was at university in England,” I tell him. “It didn’t go too well. So I thought I’d travel for a while, work out what to do next.”
“I get that. I only came for one summer. Still here five years later.” I think his curiosity is satisfied, but I’m wrong. “The Greek passport? Where’d that come from?”
I might as well say. “My mum. I was actually born on the island.”
“Yeah?” He picks at a tooth with a fingernail. “She a local?”
“No…she worked here.” I pause. You can see the remains of the resort from here. An empty dark shell a way down the beach. “In the Aegean Dream Resort.”
“Seriously?” He seems interested by this, then he gives a gruff laugh. “The Aegean Nightmare Resort, I call it.”
I have no idea what he means by this. When he doesn’t explain, I ask.
“Why do you call it that?”
“You don’t know?” His blond eyebrows rise up his face.
“Know what?”
“What happened at the ADR?”
“No. What happened?” Something about the look on his face unsettles me.
Hans leans against the counter, wiping it down with slow, deliberate strokes, like he’s enjoying drawing this out.
“It was before my time. Probably for the best, you know?” I don’t but he goes on quickly this time.
“I think it was one of the guests, or maybe one of the staff, I’m not so sure. But he went crazy. Killed like half a dozen people. Cut one woman’s head clean off, threw it in the swimming pool when people were still in it.”
For a second I think he must be joking, but I can see from his face that he isn’t.
“Oh my God.”
“You didn’t know? I thought you said your mum worked there?”
“She did, but…” I stop. Oh shit. Is this why she doesn’t talk about it? The idea flares in my mind, that I’ve had this all wrong, totally misjudged her. But not for long.
“When was she here? Maybe she knew the guy? I think he was English, like you.”
“I was born here. So twenty-two…years ago? ”
Hans shrugs. “Probably not then. This was more recent I think. Ten years or so.”
Even so, I’m pretty shocked.
“Is that why it’s empty now?”
“Sure. The locals won’t work there, not after what happened.” He shakes his head. “And it’s no good for tourists. You wanna go on holiday to a place where people get decapitated?” He laughs at the thought.