The Sunrise Read Online Free Page B

‘People will want to look around the nightclub tomorrow. Can you make absolutely sure that everything is ready by six thirty.’
    ‘By all means, Kyria Papacosta, but you know it won’t be operational until the following day?’
    His response was polite, as was hers:
    ‘I understand perfectly, Markos. But we need to start promoting it and giving people an impression of it. Even if guests continue to stay in this hotel, we will be expecting them to come to The Sunrise for such entertainment.’
    She turned her back and walked away.
    There was always a measured formality between them which hid a deep-seated mistrust. Aphroditi felt threatened by this man who was always somewhere in the background. She could not help noticing a blemish on his cheek and felt a momentary pang of satisfaction that his otherwise faultless face was mildly flawed.
    Though the hierarchy was clear enough, Aphroditi felt that Markos Georgiou’s presence challenged her own position. They trod carefully around each other, Aphroditi always expecting some kind of slight that she could mention to Savvas. She had no proof that Markos undermined her but she was always looking for it.
    She was furious that Markos had been given freedom to specify everything for the nightclub in The Sunrise. Even its name. It was the only area of the hotel in which Aphroditi had played no part. This rankled with her. She could not understand why her husband gave this man so much liberty when he was so controlling about every other aspect of this enterprise. She particularly disliked what it was called: Clair de Lune.
    ‘It’s ridiculous,’ she had moaned to Savvas. ‘It’s the one place in the hotel that will never
see
the light of the moon!’
    ‘But it will only open when the moon is shining,
agapi
mou
. That’s the point.’
    Undaunted, Aphroditi was determined to find something to criticise.
    ‘Most people won’t even understand what it means. It’s French.’
    The argument had taken place one evening when they were in a taverna by the sea.
    ‘Why not “Panselinos”?’ suggested Aphroditi, glancing skywards.
    ‘Look, Aphroditi,’ said Savvas, trying to keep his patience. ‘Because that means “Full Moon”, which is not the same. Markos chose “Clair de Lune”.’
    ‘
Markos!
But why should …’
    Aphroditi did not hide her anger whenever her husband put Markos first.
    The name of the club itself did not bother Savvas one shilling, but his wife’s constant criticism of Markos Georgiou was wearing. He wanted to please Aphroditi, but at the same time he did not want to offend the man on whom he relied for a good proportion of the hotel’s projected profit.
    The name apart, Aphroditi particularly disliked the decor.
    ‘It just doesn’t fit with the rest of the hotel,’ she moaned to Savvas. ‘Why did you let him do it?’
    ‘It’s meant to have its own atmosphere, Aphroditi. It’s
meant
to be different.’
    Aphroditi did not appreciate that this small piece of the hotel was about the night. It was not intended to connect with the light, airy feel of the ground floor. The Clair de Lune aimed to attract those who preferred night to day, whisky to water, and who relished late-night conversation and cigars.
    ‘I
loathe
that dark purple …’
    Aphroditi had only been down to inspect the nightclub during daytime hours. It was true that the decor, when strip lights illuminated it, looked gloomy, but with gentle, low-wattage lighting, the space had its allure. There were copious lampshades with gold fringing, thickly piled mauve carpet and low onyx tables arranged around a small stage. Down one side there was a bar with an impressive display of Scotch and Irish whiskies. Even though it could seat one hundred and fifty, the room seemed intimate.
    Aphroditi, who had been able to choose the aesthetics of the hotel, was not allowed to influence even the smallest detail of the nightclub’s design. Savvas had given Markos carte blanche, and there was not