by Mandy Baggot
‘Rebecca,’ Elias said, the timbre of his voice low, sultry, rippling up her backbone.
‘Yes.’ Her voice was stupidly breathy. Pathetic. Not the independent go-getter she really wanted to be on this break. Much more work was needed on that.
‘I understand,’ Elias replied.
‘You do?’
‘I do,’ he answered. ‘And it makes no difference to me. Conversation on a plane is simply conversation on a plane. You might be surprised to know that I was once seated next to a man who told me he was a builder.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘He passed me the inflight magazine because my seat pocket did not have one. This man had not one callus on his hands. In fact, his hands looked like they had been manicured.’ Elias raised his beer bottle again. ‘Now, I do not know why he lied to me. But I did not care. We had a brief conversation about the weather, the turbulence and the selection of in-flight snacks and that was it. We would never see each other again.’
‘I know but… I don’t tell lies.’ Hiding what she did with sandwich personalisation from Megan wasn’t anything like the same. ‘I just said it for my own protection… or so I thought… and because of my stupid friends.’
Elias laughed then and it was a joyous sound. Deep, rumbling through his entire body, his mouth widening with an expression that rose up through his cheekbones right up to his beautiful eyes.
‘I didn’t realise it was quite that funny.’
‘It is,’ he answered, still laughing a little. ‘Because I thought that maybe you were an artist with all the drawings of animals… but then there was the stabbing of them. I was worried that perhaps you were the murderer.’
‘Oh,’ Becky said. ‘Well… I draw animals when I’m distracted. I was trying to put together a menu plan for a pitch I’m trying to win. It’s a nursing home party and it’s important to me and… it should be important to my sister but apparently it isn’t… and I couldn’t quite work it out on the plane. Hence the animals and the poking them with my pen.’ This beer was making her share way too much information now. Maybe it didn’t mix well with that white wine she had had earlier.
‘You plan parties?’ Elias asked her. His knee nudged hers as a couple meandered around them, coming down the steps. He edged a little closer.
‘I… make sandwiches and wraps and rolls. It’s my sister’s catering company, but this pitch for the nursing home, well, she isn’t keen on taking the job, but I really want to.’ She sighed, frustration with Megan still bubbling under the surface. Why was her sister treating it like just any other job? It was much more than that. It was about doing something nice for the home that had looked after their dad. ‘I just need to think up a menu that’s going to be unbeatable by anyone else who pitches.’ She really really wanted this.
‘I get it,’ Elias replied. ‘You want to prove to your sister that you have this capability she thinks only she possesses.’
God. From the little information she had given him he had pretty much nailed that. ‘Well… yes,’ she answered and nodded. ‘Do you have any brothers or sisters?’
‘Ochi,’ he answered. ‘Sorry. No. I don’t. Only me. My mother will tell you that as I was ten pounds in weight and it felt like she was evacuating a watermelon. There was no way she was going to repeat the experience.’
Becky couldn’t help but laugh.
‘You laugh at me? Being a child on my own growing up. No one to play with because my head was too large?’
Now she laughed even more. She was imagining him with a giant head. He didn’t have a giant head. He had quite a beautiful head, if heads could be beautiful. His dark hair was shaped neatly, brushed back in that style that was popular now.
‘You are now thinking of me with a watermelon for a head, are you not?’
‘No.’ But she didn’t stop laughing. She put a hand over her mouth. ‘OK… maybe.’
‘You are cruel, Sergeant Rebecca.’
‘Oh, I imagined myself a way higher ranking than a sergeant.’
‘Is that so?’
She nodded and took a sip of her drink.
‘So, how do you like Athens?’ Elias asked her.
‘I like Athens very much,’ Becky replied, looking around her. The fairy-lights strung under the canopies casting a romantic glow over everything, the old stone with pots of bougainvillea spilling from urns and hanging baskets, the animated chatter from their fellow patrons. ‘It’s so beautiful. Not just the Acropolis which was the most magnificent thing I’ve ever seen. It’s also the little shops, the incredible view over the city and here, sitting on cushions on the steps, underneath a thick dark sky, drinking beer I’ve not tasted before in the middle of… real Greek life.’ She looked back at him. ‘Thank you for showing it to me.’ A sigh left her body then and the contentment loaded in it took her by surprise. She did feel content, as well as exhilarated. As those emotions floated over her she realised just how close Elias was to her and the fact that he appeared to be gazing into her eyes. His eyes. So in contrast to the olive skin and the dark hair, a flickering shimmer of blue meets green. Becky’s heart was racing. This was attraction. There was no denying that. She was as attracted to this virtual stranger as she had ever been attracted to anyone. Even Mr Eighteen-Months. And what a big mistake that had been. Except she shouldn’t judge every next man she met by the standards of someone else, should she? That wasn’t fair. That wasn’t giving herself or anyone else a chance. And she did want some of those feelings back again. Even if it was for one night with a stranger…
She moved, slightly, barely noticeable to even her, but enough to connect her thigh with Elias’s. Would he react? Would he edge back? There were no people wandering up and down now, no reason to be so close. She was barely breathing. Did she move her face forward too? Did she really want to kiss him? What about Petra? Far more attractive. Younger. More vibrant and exciting. Nice. Petra was nice. And she fancied Elias too. But then again, she seemed to fancy most men. And she had run away with one a second ago in pursuit of a cat.
Nothing ventured. Nothing gained. Becky prepared to close her eyes…
‘Would you like another beer?’
She felt the pressure of Elias’s body leave her and suddenly she felt so stupid. Eyes fully open now, she looked up to see he had stood. He was looking down at her, so tall, fit and obviously totally disinterested in her as a romantic distraction. All she could do was nod and try not to sound like a moron when she spoke.
‘Oh… yes… thank you.’ She smiled. ‘That would be nice.’ Anything to numb the humiliation. Where was Petra? ‘Let me get you some euros.’
‘Ochi. It is OK. I will pay.’ He stepped up onto the next stair and headed into the bar.
Moment gone. Moment not even there in the first place. She would definitely not be telling Hazel and Shelley about this. She would simply tell them she had met a nice guy on a plane and he had shown her all the best parts of Athens. She would not tell them she had briefly thought it might be a good idea to think about kissing him. Ridiculous.
She reached into her bag and pulled out her phone and it was then she saw she had three missed calls and a voicemail from an unknown number… It had to be Ms O’Neill. Bugger. For an unexpected evening in Greece’s capital that had started so wonderfully, it now had the potential to turn the shape of a pear.
Seventeen
Athens International Airport, Athens
‘I don’t think I should have eaten the third piece of bread.’ Petra let out a loud burp as they powered towards the gate they were boarding from, determined that nothing was going to make them miss it this time. ‘Oh… that’s better.’
Becky hadn’t eaten anything at breakfast. Embarrassment and terror were filling her gut in equal measure. Terror because Ms O’Neill had seemed really quite annoyed that she wasn’t yet at the house and had spent a long time ranting about security and solicitors and her husband being a control freak when they had eventually made phone contact. Then Ms O’Ne
ill had carried on saying how Becky needed to get there to ensure no one tried to enter the house. For a second Becky wondered who exactly would be trying to enter the house because, as a woman on her own, looking for a quiet, idyllic Greek village, hearing someone might be trying to invade wasn’t exactly heartening. But when the missed flight scenario had been fully explained, the English woman had calmed down a little. The embarrassment bit was still from her half-attempting to kiss Elias.
‘Did you see Elias at breakfast?’ Petra asked, her comment coinciding nicely with Becky’s train of thought.
‘No,’ she answered. ‘Not that I was looking.’ She had been looking. She had been looking so she could avoid him. He was obviously going to be on this flight, but the less she saw of him now the better. She felt too awkward that she had misread things. Her signals weren’t up to speed and reading How to Find the Love of Your Life or Die Trying when she got beneath the Egyptian cotton had basically told her the same. She had broken one of the golden rules. She hadn’t waited the twenty seconds before moving in for the kiss. Apparently those twenty seconds were crucial. It gave both parties time to consider what happened next and the consequences of their actions. Except, Elias had no potential to be the love of her life. Perhaps she would have been better getting a copy of How to Find Anyone of the Opposite Sex Even if it’s Only for One Night or Die Trying. If such a book existed. Maybe she should make notes on all her faux-pas and write it…
‘He went a bit quiet when I brought Panos to join us on the steps last night. D’you think he was jealous? D’you think he really did think he could have us both later?’
‘No… well… not both of us, I don’t think. Maybe you. Maybe he thought he was in a chance with you until Panos came over.’
‘Panos was so hot though,’ Petra said, dragging her large backpack up her back. ‘And sweet. I could have seen us getting a little place together with Plato and living on olives and sweet white wine for the rest of our days.’
They had called the cat Plato. But Becky had suggested it was better not to take the cat on the metro back to their hotel. Panos had come however and he and Petra had disappeared up to her room without even a side glance from the receptionist on the way in. Maybe Becky didn’t need a relationship book at all. Perhaps she just needed to spend more time in Petra’s company learning from the obvious Mistress of Seduction. Elias had excused himself pretty quickly when they’d got back to the Sofitel. And there Becky had been, alone, being internally crucified by her own shame. She hadn’t even had the energy to look at the nursing home menu.
‘No chance of us missing the plane this time, we’re almost the first ones here,’ Petra remarked. There was a small group of people sat on the seats waiting in front of the big screen displaying their flight number including the older couple with their sticks and the family with the young children who had all seemed to be covered in coco-flakes at breakfast.
And there was Elias. Sat furthest away from everyone, his laptop on his knee. Becky swallowed and hoped Petra wouldn’t notice and suggest they went over to him.
*
Elias had seen them arrive at the gate but he had kept his head down. What had happened last night had literally scared him to death. That moment. A moment he thought he would never have again had ripped through him at a million miles an hour. Becky had laughed at the story of his birth and it had been so genuine. She had listened to him as if she was really interested. And such a carefree sound leaving her had suddenly and unexpectedly lightened everything inside of him. He had felt almost instantly weightless. Like the heavy worry he seemed to constantly carry around with him had been lifted for the first time in so long. He’d looked at her and an intense feeling had filled him up and he’d wanted nothing more than to cover her mouth with his and give in to the passion, the desire, the flush of a new connection. But when he looked at Becky again, thought about closing in, feeling her body against his, he had been flooded with memories of Hestia – the beautiful ones as well as the ugly. Disappointment, fear and regret had stalled him, broken into the perfect seconds and then the reverie had taken over. He’d backed off. He’d had to remove himself. And when he’d retreated, he’d been flooded with guilt as well. As nice and unexpected as it had been, he shouldn’t want something else. Not with someone like Becky. Someone who was worried about giving too much in case she got exploited. Someone who carried around a relationship handbook…
He looked up from his laptop now, chancing a glance at the passengers around the gate. Petra had her plaits pinned to the top of her head making it look like she was balancing chopsticks on her crown. Becky was… looking as fresh-faced and naturally beautiful as he remembered last night.
It had been a little awkward on the metro back to the hotel. Petra and Panos’s lips had been attached to each other like an aggressive vacuum cleaner suctioned to a rug. Neither he nor Becky knew where to look and he had actually prayed for another metro musician… He should have continued conversation. He should have made a vague attempt to normalise things. Because they should be normal. But they weren’t. He found Becky attractive. And he couldn’t switch that off. But when they arrived in Corfu, they wouldn’t see each other again so… that would be that. He just needed to keep himself together until they arrived. It was an hour in the air.
*
‘Where are you sat? What seat number?’ Petra asked as they boarded a smaller jet than had got them over to Greece.
‘6A,’ Becky answered, checking the numbers on the seat backs.
‘Aww bum! I’m in 12B. I guess they were fitting us all in around the paying passengers. Meet you at the toilets halfway into the flight?’ Petra asked, moving down the plane. ‘We can discuss more rom-com movies and the best barbecue we’ve ever eaten.’
Yes, over breakfast, in between the not-eating and the feeling embarrassed, she had discovered that Petra shared a love of romance movies as well as griddled meats. It seemed that Petra’s go-to food was anything that had been expertly grilled and slathered in hot sauce. She had started a story about the Andes and a couple of guinea pigs, but Becky had stopped her short of the ending. She’d sensed it wasn’t going to be a chick flick happy ever after for the furries…
‘OK,’ Becky answered. There was her seat. It was a little snugger with the legroom than it had been on the previous plane. She put her case in the overhead locker and shoved Hazel’s huge bag under the seat in front of her. She slipped into the space and sat down, looking out of the window at the bright blue morning sky and the planes around taxiing into position or being loaded up with fuel and luggage. Athens had been more than she could ever have expected. Already she had ticked off a city she hadn’t contemplated seeing.
‘Good morning.’
She instantly recognised the low accented lilt and turned away from the window. Elias. He was standing in the aisle looking gloriously fresh but in relaxed attire: black cotton jeans and a white polo shirt skimming over his athletic frame. ‘Morning.’ What else was there to say? But now he was moving into the row, shifting into her space.
‘6B,’ he greeted. ‘I guess because we checked in together when we arrived yesterday.’
‘Oh,’ Becky said. ‘Well, I suppose that makes sense.’
‘Maybe Petra is across the aisle,’ Elias suggested as he made himself comfortable.
‘She’s not,’ Becky replied. ‘She’s in row twelve.’
Elias nodded, unzipping his leather bag and removing his laptop. ‘And Panos?’
Becky couldn’t help a smile crossing her lips. ‘No Panos,’ she answered. ‘But Plato’s in her cabin bag.’
Elias turned to her then, his expression unsure whether she was being serious or not. She was about to confirm she was only joking when he cracked his own smile. ‘You are joking with me.’
‘I am,’ Becky confirmed. ‘But I did half-expect the cat to turn up at the entrance of the hotel as we were leaving.’
‘There is still a chance it will come running up the plane steps and s
ettle itself on her lap before we take off,’ Elias suggested.
‘Carrying a violin.’
They both laughed now and Becky felt herself relax. Perhaps she was worrying unnecessarily. Maybe she needed to put last night’s mix-up down to experience. That’s what a seasoned traveller would do. She mustn’t dwell. She simply needed to forget it and move on. Elias opened his laptop.
‘Properties you are exploring in Corfu?’ Becky asked him.
‘Just a spreadsheet,’ he replied. ‘If I cannot concentrate, I will draw animals and stab at them with my stylus.’
She shook her head wryly. ‘Very funny.’
Eighteen
On board the flight from Athens to Corfu
The plane had been in the air for a while and they had been served a drink. No free wine this time, instead Becky had opted for a Coke. She had written a few notes for the nursing home pitch – more Spam (because apparently there was a great deal you could do with Spam) and perhaps making a cake in the design of a ration book. She was also thinking about really honouring her dad and having some of his favourite dishes in the mix. A hearty meat pie with fresh herbs from the It’s A Wrap garden and maybe making those tinned peaches into a crumble… Elias’s laptop had been on, but she hadn’t noticed him typing much at all.
‘So… in Corfu… where are the places I shouldn’t miss? What should I try and see while I’m there?’ Becky asked him.
He closed the lid of his laptop softly and gave her his full attention. ‘For that I would need to know how long it is you are staying on the island.’
‘Two weeks,’ Becky replied. ‘I’m looking after a house. If Ms O’Neill hasn’t given up on me already.’