The Sunrise Read Online Free

so.’
    ‘Do you think everything will be finished in time?’
    ‘It has to be. Everyone knows what needs to be done. So there’s no question of it.’
    ‘The flowers are being delivered at eight.’
    ‘Darling, you’ve worked so hard.’
    ‘I feel a bit tired,’ Aphroditi admitted.
    ‘Well, you look beautiful,’ her husband reassured her, patting her on the knee before changing gears. ‘And that’s what matters.’
    They drew up outside The Paradise Beach.
    At only five floors, it was modest compared with their new venture, and perhaps a little tired-looking too. Visitors approached through a car park and then up a short cobbled path. Palm trees stood to either side of the main doors; inside there were a few more, but the latter were fake. They had seemed innovative when they were installed five years earlier, but times had moved on.
    ‘
Kalispera
, Gianni,’ said Savvas, stopping to greet the man on reception. ‘Everything in order today?’
    ‘Busy, Kyrie Papacosta. Very busy indeed.’
    It was the answer Savvas liked to hear. Despite his focus on The Sunrise, he wanted The Paradise Beach full of contented guests. Hosting regular parties was one way he had found to keep their loyalty, but tonight’s event had a particular purpose.
    That morning, an embossed invitation had been slipped under each door.
    Mr and Mrs Papacosta
    request the pleasure of your company
    at the Paradise Patio
    Cocktails
    6.30 p.m.
    Now, as Savvas and Aphroditi moved through to the patio to greet their guests, a few dozen people were already gathered there, all of them looking out to sea. It was impossible not to be mesmerised by the sight. In the balmy early-evening light, there was a rosy tint to the sky, the sun was still warm on the skin and the lithe bodies of the boys who lingered to play games of volleyball on the beach were sharply defined by the shadows. It seemed entirely credible that Aphroditi, the Goddess of Love, might have been born on this island. It was a place to be in love with life itself.
    There was a pattern and rhythm to the way the couple circulated, asking guests how they had spent the day, listening patiently to descriptions of wonderful swimming, clear waters, perhaps an excursion to see the medieval city. They had heard everything before but exclaimed politely as if it was for the first time.
    In the corner of the room, a young French pianist moved his pale fingers seamlessly from one jazz favourite to another. The sound of chattering voices and clinking ice drowned out his music here as in every other venue. Every evening he made a journey along the row of hotels, playing for an hour in each one. At five in the morning he would put down the lid of the Steinway at The Savoy, the last of the bars where he had a nightly engagement. He would then sleep until late afternoon and be back at The Paradise Beach for six fifteen.
    Savvas was shorter and stouter than most of his northern European clientele, but his suit was better cut than any in the room. Similarly, his wife’s clothes were always more chic than those of their guests. However well dressed they were, whether from London, Paris or even the United States, none of the women matched Aphroditi for glamour. Though the American was more than ten years her senior, Aphroditi cultivated a Jackie O style. She had always loved the way Jackie dressed; more than ever since her marriage to Aristotle Onassis, every magazine was full of her image. For years Aphroditi had devoured everything to do with her icon, from the days when she had refurbished the White House and entertained foreign dignitaries with cocktails, to more recent times with images of her on islands not so far away from Cyprus. Jackie’s was the style she favoured: immaculately tailored but feminine.
    Though the whole impression was flawless, it was her jewellery that made Aphroditi stand out. Most women bought a necklace or bracelet to go with an outfit, but Aphroditi had dresses made to match her