by Mandy Baggot
‘I am sorry,’ Elias said, finally shifting sideways a little then stepping up to disengage them. ‘It is a while since I have taken this walk. I always forget exactly where the path does this.’
‘That’s OK,’ Becky said with a laugh. She really really wished he hadn’t seen the copy of Hazel’s relationship book. He probably thought she was desperate now. Had maybe invented the foot-slipping situation… Still, Petra was here. If Elias was single and looking for a hook-up, Petra was a much more suitable candidate for him. She was adventurous and youthfully gorgeous and a little bit crazy. Becky didn’t have half of Petra’s confidence and she was still finding her feet with who she was in this new travelling scenario. Did she even want romance in her life? She hadn’t actually thought further than that it might be nice to be included in couple’s dinner parties if she had a partner, but she probably shouldn’t make that the whole reason for wanting a relationship…
‘Christ! I’m on top of the world!’
It was undoubtedly Petra’s voice screaming from above them and Elias shared a smile with her.
‘She is like a child,’ Elias said shaking his head.
‘Do you think she’s found another violinist with a cat?’ Becky asked.
‘I hope not. I think she might scare them.’
‘What is at the top of this path?’ Becky wanted to know.
‘Come and see,’ Elias replied, smiling again.
Fifteen
Anafiotika, Athens
Becky couldn’t believe her eyes. Standing in front of a rather unsubstantial fence surrounded by bushes and other curling green shrubs, Athens was laid out like a picnic blanket of muted Lego bricks before her, the sun starting to go down. Half the panorama was in shade, making it seem like the tops of the buildings were blue and grey. The other section was illuminated, creams and browns and stretching out so far and wide. She had never seen something so vast from a viewpoint anything like this before. And then there was a hump of greenery to the right, a hill in the middle of all the buildings looking so out of place.
‘It’s incredible,’ Becky breathed. ‘It’s so vast and I feel so small. Like a tiny ant looking down on it all.’ She almost couldn’t breathe. She wanted to take a photo and a video, but she knew neither were going to do this vista justice. You had to be here. You had to stand in the midst of it letting it soak into your soul.
‘Is that Mount Lycabettus?’ Petra asked, already leaning over way too much and now pointing with a fully stretched arm too.
‘Yes,’ Elias said. ‘And it might look small from where we are here, but it stands three hundred metres above sea-level. Nine hundred and nine feet.’ He pointed at the lump of green which Becky now noticed had a craggy peak to it. Even from here you could see it dwarfed the properties around it.
‘You really are our tour guide,’ Petra said. ‘Is that what you do for a job?’
‘No,’ Elias replied but said nothing further. He had told her he was an estate agent. Why couldn’t he tell Petra that and stop her endless questions?
‘What do you do for a job?’ Petra asked, skipping over to Becky and dragging her into a position for a selfie with the view as a background.
Oh shit. She should come clean about not being in the army. Right now. It was a lie she should never have trotted out in the first place.
‘Becky cannot tell you what she does,’ Elias said as he moved up next to them. ‘It is confidential.’
‘Ooo, now I really want to know!’ Petra put a braid into her mouth and sucked. ‘Are you a prostitute? You know, not one of those ones who stand on street corners wearing clothes that look like the 1980s threw up all over them. I mean one of the ones who suck off politicians and pop stars in classy hotels.’
‘Petra!’ Becky exclaimed in utter horror. ‘Keep your voice down!’
‘Oh my God! I guessed it right, didn’t I?! Well, you’re a dark horse. I didn’t really have you pegged for that when you said you hadn’t ever had sex in a plane toilet.’
‘I’m in the army!’ Becky shouted quickly. ‘Not the sex trade!’
Her face felt like it was a member of the scotch bonnet family and she could only imagine what Elias must be thinking. Petra didn’t seem to find anything inappropriate subject matter. And they were virtual strangers. Plane passengers who happened to miss the same flight and been given accommodation in the same hotel. Becky chanced a glance at Elias and saw he had an amused look on his face. Great.
‘The army?’ Petra said, screwing up her face as if ‘the army’ was gone-off chicken no longer fit for human consumption. ‘To be honest the sex trade was more believable. What are you? A captain or something? Sitting behind a desk all day planning assaults?’
‘I can’t discuss it,’ Becky insisted. ‘No matter how many times you ask me.’
‘Is that a challenge?’ Petra asked, tilting her head a little.
‘Come,’ Elias said. ‘Let us go and see the Acropolis.’
*
They didn’t have to go far until they were in the perfect place to take in the view of Greece’s most famous monument. Lit up in the last of the day’s golden glow, the relic shone like the iconic star of Athens it was. Those crumbling columns constantly being maintained and restored to ensure none of the history was lost, stood proud above the city just as they had thousands of years ago. And the scenery hadn’t changed in the slightest since Elias had last stood here… with Hestia.
Taking a breath of the still-humid night air, he remembered holding her hand at this very spot and believing that their love would endure anything that life threw at them, exactly like the monument above them. When that sentiment had struck he had been thinking about the everyday kind of rows about meal choices or what to watch on the television, hard monetary times or disciplining their children. He had not thought about someone arriving in Hestia’s affections and destroying their marriage. Endurance was possibly a singular thing. Like with the Acropolis. It wasn’t as if this mighty ruin had been partnered with anyone in its lifetime. It was strong and powerful all by itself. And that’s where his focus should be. Building his business. Doing what he was good at. Avoiding what he obviously wasn’t so skilled at. Like relationships.
‘It’s awesome. And when I stick an Insta filter on it it’s going to look even better!’ Petra announced.
Only this girl would think about putting a photo filter on something that was already completely perfect in his eyes.
‘A filter!’ Becky exclaimed. ‘How can you put a filter on it? It’s so beautiful just as it is right now.’ As if to enhance her point, Becky began taking more photos, her fingers on the screen of her phone, zooming in and trying to get a close up, or maybe something a little more atmospheric.
‘Everything looks better with a filter,’ Petra said. ‘I mean the sea in Thailand was obvs turquoise, but with a filter on it, it looked a touch more beautiful… plus, everyone does it.’
‘I don’t,’ Becky answered. ‘Otherwise people will be expecting something that looks like one thing when you’ve told them it looks like something else. My sister put a filter on a tuna and beetroot wrap once for our website and the beetroot looked like it could double for a bloody liver in Holby City.’
She had a sister. Who did things with beetroot and tuna. And had she said ‘our’ website. Elias suspected that Becky’s job in the army might not be everything she had made it out to be. He sensed a nervousness from her – and obviously there was also the stabbing at pieces of paper and drawing animals without realising it – but what was it she was nervous about?
‘And I expect you’ve seen your fair share of bloody livers on tour with your regiment,’ Petra piped up. ‘What does your sister do?’
‘She…’ Becky paused. ‘She just makes sandwiches.’
Hadn’t some of the words Becky had been bludgeoning with her pen onboard the flight related to food? Drink. Suddenly his throat felt dry and he longed for another beer. And here, in this district, there was only one place he wante
d to go.
‘Do you want to see somewhere else the Athenians love?’ he asked his two companions.
‘Is it where the locals hang out?’ Petra asked, wide-eyed. ‘Does it feature in Lonely Planet?’
‘I think you’ll both like it.’
Sixteen
‘This place! It’s absolutely lit!’ Petra shouted, bottle of Fix beer poised for the next swig.
They were sitting on nothing more than cushions, coloured cushions – bright pink, green, blue – that had been sprinkled on top of steep steps that led from the road at the bottom that went back to Monastiraki Square and their metro station, to the start of the incline to the Acropolis. At each side of the cut through the rock were bars and tavernas, alive with customers eating, drinking and smoking beneath giant canopies, some framed by fairy lights. The whole ensemble resembled a chilled out yet buzzy party half-hidden from the rest of the city. It was like a secret exclusive hangout you felt lucky to have an invitation to.
‘We can see if there is a table free inside if you would prefer a chair,’ Elias said. He was looking like a cover model for perfectly chilled right now, again no perspiration apparent, feet resting on the step below them. Although the cushions weren’t the most well-padded, Becky didn’t want to go inside or find a table under an umbrella, she wanted to stay sitting right here, the absolute best place for people watching. The Greek world was all around – young, old, every age in between – every single one of the patrons seeming relaxed and content. The vibe was laidback, without stress, full of good humour.
‘Are you kidding?’ Petra said, beer dribbling down her chin. ‘I’m literally sat in everybody’s path here. I can see everything and everyone.’
For once Becky agreed wholeheartedly with her. She took a sip of her beer. This one was particularly nice, with a sweet undertone that complemented any harshness.
‘Aww! Hello kitty! Aren’t you cute?’ Petra put down her beer bottle on the step next to her and picked up a tiny kitten. Its fur was mainly white with black splodges, and it relaxed into Petra’s lap, immediately rubbing its head against her stomach then standing up and looking for more affection. It was sweet.
‘Are you a cat lady, Becks?’ Petra asked, rubbing the kitten under its chin.
What was that supposed to mean? The term ‘cat lady’ was always used in TV shows when talking about a desperate, single, left-on-the-shelf-forever woman with as much chance of getting a date as a Mother Superior. Was that how Petra saw her? Petra didn’t even know about Hazel’s book in her carry-on. But Elias did…
‘I like cats,’ Becky answered. ‘But I wouldn’t want to live with them… just them… on my own… for life… or anything.’ That had answered the question and probably made her sound insane. She took a swig of her beer while her cheeks started to radiate enough heat to grill a kebab.
‘Elias?’ Petra asked, lifting the cat up and pressing her nose to its face. ‘Cats or dogs?’
He shook his head. ‘You English. Because I come from Corfu you think everyone is like the Durrell family? Remember, they were English like you.’
‘And you haven’t answered the question.’ Becky hadn’t meant to say that. Why had she said that? It was supposed to be an internal discussion only her brain could hear. But Elias did seem very good at not answering any questions posed to him. That was mysterious.
Petra laughed, coddling the cat like it was a newborn she had just birthed. ‘Becks is right. You didn’t answer. And you don’t answer very much at all. What are you hiding? Because if you think you can avoid telling us anything about who you are because you think you’re going to have your way with both of us when you get back to the hotel you can think again. I don’t do threesomes.’ Petra sniffed. ‘Not that you’re not attractive, Becky, but you know… sharing an aubergine, it’s a step too far for even me.’
She wanted to be a cat lady. Kittens of the world unite and take Becky Rose to your leader right now! Becky was cringing so hard she didn’t know where to look and no one was saying anything now. How had a conversation about pets turned into a talk about sexual preferences?
Suddenly there was a commotion. Three young men backed into their space on the steps, laughing and almost tripping on the stone stairs. Petra’s feline friend took exception, miaowed, hissed and fled from her lap.
‘Oi!’ Petra exclaimed, getting to her feet, expression not amused. ‘You frightened my cat!’
‘Signomi. Sorry. My friend, he…’ one of the men began to apologise.
Becky saw Petra’s expression waver a little. Now she seemed to be transfixed, not angry, staring directly at this dark eyed, dark curly-haired twenty-something like he was right out of a The Bachelor episode she wanted to watch on repeat.
‘Well,’ Petra said, still a little indignant, her hands meeting her hips. ‘You can help me get her back.’
‘Ti?’ the man asked, dark brow furrowing. ‘What? The cat… is really yours?’
‘For tonight it was. And you scared her half to death being all shouty and drunk and annoying!’
‘You call me drunk?’
‘Petra,’ Becky said, getting to her feet and thinking that now might be a good time to calm the situation. Why did she feel responsible for Petra? Was it somehow inherently written through her that she was a caregiver? Someone who had to manage…
‘Aren’t you?’ Petra asked the man.
‘Ochi,’ he answered, now as firm-faced as Petra was.
‘Well, help me find the cat then,’ Petra insisted. ‘Now.’
‘Endaksi. OK.’
And with that, Petra and the young man were off, together, beginning to look under tables and beside plants for the elusive stray Petra had claimed as her own.
‘Well,’ Becky said, sitting back down on her cushion. ‘That was unexpected.’
‘Petra being upfront with a stranger?’ Elias asked. ‘Really?’
Becky couldn’t help but laugh. ‘I meant Petra falling in love with a cat.’
‘A cat without a violin to dance to.’
‘The night is young,’ Becky answered with a grin.
Elias got up then plumped back down on Petra’s abandoned cushion right next to Becky. They were close again now, bodies almost touching as people passed by them, walking up the steps towards the road to the Acropolis or to bars and restaurants further up. It was completely at odds to a night spent in Amesbury, curled up on her sofa with a couple of grilled chicken thighs, watching Come Dine with Me on her own. She was in the centre of Athens sharing beer and conversation with two people she barely knew, one of whom was as attractive as men got. That thought made a bead of sweat appear on her top lip and she quickly drank a mouthful of beer to pass it off as some sort of condensation. Passing things off. She had been doing a little bit of that since she’d turned into Dora the Explorer. Maybe now was the time to come clean.
‘So, you know how I said I was in the army,’ Becky began. The words were almost choking her. She wasn’t sure whether it was worse to have told the lie to begin with or to confess now. After all, Elias had been nothing but nice, letting them tag along here and showing them the main attractions Athens had to offer.
‘I do remember that,’ he answered, turning to look at her.
Incredible eyes. Total hotness. She could not ever tell Hazel or Shelley about him. They would both completely ruin her for not passing on her phone number. Unless…
She swallowed. ‘Well, the thing is… I’m not.’
‘You are not what?’ Elias asked, one eyebrow raising up.
‘I’m not actually in the army.’
‘Not actually in the army?’
‘I’m not quite in the army.’
‘Not quite?’
Why was he making this so difficult for her? Or perhaps she was the one who was making it difficult for herself? She swigged from her bottle of Fix. ‘I’m not in the army. At all.’
‘Really,’ Elias said, sitting back a little and cradling his beer bottle with his hands.
She needed a breath when she had finished. The air was still sticky and humid, despite the now dark sky, but having finally ended the elongated paragraph she would take any oxygen she could get.
‘And you have decided now that I am not going to murder you or exploit you.’ He raised his beer glass as if in a toast. ‘I feel honoured.’
Oh dear. She had insulted him. And she knew from Marco Polo that Greeks – more so than any other nationality, it was professed – didn’t take kindly to being insulted.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Becky said. ‘But it was only a little white lie and being in the army is so much more interesting than what I really do. I just thought you would be someone who sat next to me on the plane. That it wouldn’t matter if I told you something else. And then I said I was staying in Athens not Corfu and then we ended up in Athens and…’