This is the first morning at the resort and Stella and the other two couples enjoy breakfast together.
Within ten minutes, Prodromos and Yiannis came out carrying two huge trays, visibly trembling under the weight of all the food. They settled the trays onto two tables next to their guests who were now chatting amiably, becoming acquainted with each other, their conversation punctuated with booming laughter and whoops of joy.
‘This is wonderful. Thank you Prodromos,’ said Stella. ‘And what beautiful music.’ Prodromos froze for a few seconds, a stillness rendering him speechless. ‘Where’s it coming from?’ asked Stella, the others busy tucking in.
‘The music can always be heard by those who are in tune with their souls, be heard by those who welcome its energy,’ Prodromos answered eventually, avoiding Stella’s eye.
Stella waited for a further explanation, but he offered none. ‘It makes you feel alive. Who’s playing it?’ Stella insisted, but the blank faces around the mishmash of tables revealed no-one had heard it or tuned into it. Maybe their chatter was drowning the sound. She felt a little tingle run along her spine and instead of shaking it off, she welcomed it, leaned into it, smiling to herself, though a little embarrassed. Was she hearing things? She looked expectantly at Prodromos. Prodromos concurred knowingly as he continued to load the table with abundantly filled hand-painted plates and blue-glazed bowls and lop-sided baskets.
Stella observed him. He can hear it too; she surmised but decided not to mention it again. Something magical, unexplained yet present in the air, danced and played out here in Miramare and she hoped it would inspire her, fill her up with an abundance of creativity. Breakfast was a tantalising, colourful banquet: fresh figs, fleshy and dark purple, glistened in a round basket lined with a crocheted napkin, thickly sliced bread and sesame coated bread sticks as well as darker rye rolls the size of small dough balls filled an oval basket and wrinkled black olives and fresh tomatoes over-filled miniature scallop-edged bowls.
‘Good enough for the Gods,’ said Dean.
‘Looks so enticing,’ said Eliana.
‘Ambrosia,’ said Dean.
‘What?’ said Eliana.
‘Ambrosia. Food of the gods.’
‘Yes, you are right,’ said Prodromos. ‘Believed to bring long life and immortality to anyone who consumed it.’
‘I’m sure the scientists will find a way to make immortality a reality one day,’ said Dean. ‘But not in our lifetime.’
‘Love makes us immortal,’ said Prodromos, a fleeting wistfulness crossing his face. ‘Now eat.’
‘You don’t have to ask me twice. I’m starving,’ said Dean, giving Eliana a cocky grin. He rubbed his rotund belly in exaggerated circular motions and reached out for not one but two thick hunks of warm bread. ‘Still hot.’
‘Those tomatoes. Nothing like home grown is there?’ said Stella, pushing the tomato up to her nose and breathing in deeply.
‘These smell way better than ours. The dirt must be different out here,’ said Dean.
‘You mean the soil, Dean. The dirt. What does the dirt even mean, babe?’ Eliana smiled, pretending she was only teasing, but Stella could see how annoyed she had become and couldn’t understand why she reacted to Dean the way she did. Impatient. Dismissive.
‘You grow your own?’ asked Luke, breaking the atmosphere.
‘My dad and I started an allotment together. Now it’s just me: green beans, potatoes, lettuce, carrots, garlic. I give it a go and rotate year on year, but it’s hit and miss really. It’s only a small allotment but it keeps me busy when the pain in my knee’s not too much,’ said Dean.
‘Bet it does. Good for you,’ said Stella, and leaning across the table plucked a tomato, bit into it.
‘Nothing like that earthy smell of home-grown, organic veggies. It’s something we don’t often experience at home. Those so-called vine-grown tomatoes you get in the supermarket never taste this good.’
‘Good to see someone appreciating the merits of organic veg,’ said Dean.
Prodromos re-arranged the dishes to fit in plates of boiled eggs and salami. Yiannis appeared with a platter of thick-cut wedges of watermelon and slender slices of honey melon. He placed it down opposite Stella, sucked on his finger, dripping with the pink juice of the watermelon, all the while holding Stella’s gaze. Stella suddenly didn’t feel like eating, it was as if Yiannis had swallowed her appetite whole and she fought against a flutter tickling her insides.
‘You enjoy breakfast the Greek way, my friends,’ said Prodromos.
Here’s the blurb
Three women meet on holiday in Kefalonia. Each is secretly filled with turmoil.
Stella must decide on whether her twenty-year affair with Anton has reached the end.
Melody must find a way to go back to the love she knows she has with Luke.
Eliana must overcome her own complicated relationship with love to find harmony with Dean.
Against the backdrop of the beautiful Miramare resort, the women quickly build a friendship and share their stories and deepest secrets, subconsciously guided by the magic of the Ionian Island.
With azure seas and clear blue skies, the women, and their partners, must find a way to nurture themselves before they can salvage their own relationships while navigating their attitudes to love. But can they find their way to a kinder, better place within themselves.
The Greeks have so many words for love, that they are guided and find a way through their own turmoil, to find the real happiness, love, and magic that exists within us all.
Follow strong, authentic female characters who have drive, sass, and attitude in this poetic narrative with a stunningly slow simmer. It’s a story that will capture your heart. Disappear into a world of love. Into The Magic of Miramare.
Purchase Links
https://www.amazon.co.uk/Magic-Miramare-Soulla-Christodoulou-ebook/dp/B0DHTZZLV3/
https://www.amazon.com/Magic-Miramare-Soulla-Christodoulou-ebook/dp/B0DHTZZLV3/
Meet the author
Born in London to Greek Cypriot parents, Soulla Christodoulou was the first in her family to go to university and later retrained to become a teacher. She has been writing since 2015 and has many more books in her.
Her novels, Broken Pieces of Tomorrow, The Summer Will Come, The Village House and A Palette of Magpies are available on Amazon alongside Alexander and Maria which was nominated for the RSL Ondaatje Prize 2021.
The Summer Will Come, a book club read in the Year of Learning Festival 2019, London Borough of Barnet Libraries, has been translated into Greek and is currently being queried with Greek and Greek Cypriot publishers.
Soulla is working on her next novel, The Pastry Girl of Malta and writing her first non-fiction book on the craft and magic of writing. She is consulting on a movie project inspired by one of her books and is learning a lot about the world of filmmaking. She is happiest writing and reading in her pretty garden Writing Room while drinking tea infused with cinnamon sticks and cloves.
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MJ Porter 