by Mandy Baggot
‘Megan asked about you today,’ Shelley blurted out.
Becky’s heart leapt. ‘Did she? What did she say?’
‘She asked us if—’
‘She wanted to know if we had heard from you and whether you were having a lovely time,’ Hazel interrupted. ‘You go, dear. Go and find yourself a Captain Corelli. I would if I was there!’
Megan wouldn’t have asked the team something like that. It wasn’t her sister’s style.
‘Shelley,’ Becky said. ‘What did Megan really say?’
Becky heard Hazel give a tut of annoyance before Shelley continued.
‘She asked if we knew if you had “stopped faffing around with ideas for the nursing home summer party”. The manager had left a message on the answerphone apparently.’
Becky closed her eyes and held on to her resolve. She had planned to look at her notes – and drawings – later when she was tucked up in bed in the hotel that overlooked the harbour. Megan still didn’t approve. Still didn’t want any part of the party. And what had the answerphone message said? Had they brought the deadline for pitches forward? Was she going to miss out on the chance of the job anyway?
‘She doesn’t mean it, dear,’ Hazel tried to console. ‘You know how stubborn and single-minded she can be. I do think you going on your holidays was a shock to her.’
‘Yeah,’ Shelley agreed. ‘I mean, you’re always here, aren’t you? Always the first one in and the last one to leave and the one who actually cares about the customers… well, you know, I care about them sort of. I care about them enough to wash my hands and that, so they don’t get bacteria in their baps.’
Always there. Reliable. Dependable. Thinking of others. If ever there was a reminder that what she was doing by escaping was the right course of action, then this was it. Reliable was fine, commendable really, but being walked over was not.
‘I have to go now. More not-sandwich-making to do.’ Becky ended the call before anything else could infiltrate the slightly thicker skin she was desperately trying to grow with regard to her sister. That was it. When she eventually got to Corfu and got settled beside the pool that was waiting for her, she was going all out to make the best pitch she could for the nursing home party. And nothing was going to stop her.
‘Becks! We’ve got to go!’ Petra yelled.
Becky looked to their table. Petra had leapt up and it appeared Elias was gathering his phone, wallet and sunglasses together. Was there an earlier flight? Would they be heading back to the airport sooner than planned?
‘If we want to see the cave, Agelos says we need to go now! And he’s going to take us! We can eat when we get back! And there’s gonna be Greek music later! Bonus!’
Who was Agelos? She had only been on the phone for a few minutes! Becky then saw that all the early evening diners were now focused on Petra like she’d shouted her plans through a megaphone. Which, to be fair, was how it had sounded. Becky adjusted the strap of her bag and walked back towards the table.
Twenty-One
Melissani Cave, Kefalonia
Elias had received another email from Chad. He had checked his phone on the slightly wild ride up the coast from the taverna, bumping along in the back of a flat-bed truck driven by waiter, Agelos. Somehow, Agelos seemed to have time to be Petra’s tour guide despite the restaurant busying up substantially before they left. But, it was better news on the divorce front. Kristina had riled Chad on Messenger, talking about their boat and then the polo club membership. It was back to full steam ahead with Elias’s plan and he couldn’t help feeling a little more relaxed because of this turn of events. Relaxed enough to be looking forward to this detour from normal life.
‘It echoes! Have you heard?’ Petra called out, her voice rebounding around the cave surrounding them. ‘Ooo, can you hear?’
‘All anyone can hear is you shouting and the echo of you shouting,’ Becky informed her in one of those whispers that seemed greater in volume than base-level talking.
They had descended through a tunnel into the bowels of the cave, taking in the stalactites – spiky shards of rock poking down from the roof, slick and shiny with moisture – and were now standing at the base of the steps they had descended down waiting for their transport. It was cool inside the cave, a subterranean world with colours and light virtually never seen above. Now here, at the edge of the underground lake of water, the rays of the evening sun poured through the large hole in the rock above them, creating an ethereal glow on the ragged rocks and lighting up the middle of the pool, changing the hue of the water to the most vivid of turquoise.
‘Wow!’ Petra breathed, eyes going to the sky.
It was how Elias imagined standing in the centre of a volcano would feel like – albeit an inactive and not white-hot one. One small person amid large-scale, intimidating walls of granite, sunshine spilling through a guardian of trees at the circumference of the ring of light above them.
‘I can’t believe this is real.’
The sentiment came from Becky who was gazing skywards, inching closer towards the edge of the lake. A guide was heading towards them, standing in a tiny blue-painted rowing boat. Agelos had called in a favour and they were going to receive their own private tour when really tours for the day should have been over. Elias had a feeling that if Agelos hadn’t received a frantic call on his mobile phone from his uncle, he would have stayed for the tour too, but he was coming back to pick them up in an hour.
‘It’s so cool,’ Petra agreed.
‘I do not think “cool” is the right word to describe this,’ Elias told her as their guide encouraged them forward towards their craft.
‘No,’ Becky agreed. ‘It’s not… a Topshop must-have or…’
‘Panos from Athens’ hair,’ Elias added. Petra gave him a glare and he immediately put his hands up as if in a show of surrender. ‘You did say his hair was cool.’
‘This… it’s… striking and… spectacular,’ Becky told them.
‘Breathtaking,’ Elias added.
‘Alright!’ Petra snapped. ‘You don’t need to verbalise the dictionary for me.’
‘And if you put a filter on any of your photos of this,’ Becky continued. ‘Well… it would be sacrilege.’
‘Are we allowed in the boat yet?’ Petra asked, stepping nearer the edge and smiling at their fifty-something swarthy-looking guide. He had a sheaf of thick, salt-and-pepper curly hair and a beard to match. Agelos had told them he was called Kosmos.
*
Becky had seen a couple of photos of the cave on Google, when they were deciding where to visit, and as pretty as the images had been, they were nothing when compared to being here in person, breathing in the damp air, feeling the moisture dripping down the rocks, remembering exactly how old these walls of stone were and thinking of all the people – and creatures – that had been here before her, thousands of years ago. The pool was so still, translucent turquoise where the light trickled in, with darker shades of blue at its border. It was nature at its finest. Nothing manmade. Nothing artificial. Complete purity.
Petra leapt aboard and made the small rowboat, sway back and forth with her motion. ‘Whoops! Not my fault! It’s a bit wonky!’ She settled at the very front of the boat.
Elias was next and he stepped on, turning back to look at Becky.
‘You are OK?’ he asked, reaching out a hand to help her.
More touching. She wasn’t sure she could deal with more touching. It was all getting too much for her. Hazel had told her that men still in the Eurozone were far more tactile than anyone she was going to find at Wetherspoons on a Friday night, and it was just their way. But it wasn’t her way. And, it was equally stupid to have butterflies about it, being as he was the first male she had come into contact with on this trip – stag party excepting. He was nice. He happened to be attractive. She really wasn’t thinking about what Tara would think if she turned up with someone like Elias at a dinner party. The last time she had ventured to one as a singleton, she ha
d encountered ‘dipping’ foods and the couples had all fed each other. She mustn’t wonder what it would be like to be fed by Elias…
‘I’m fine,’ she answered, taking care to step into the vessel with all the aplomb of a woman who didn’t need her arm steadying. As her feet hit the wooden interior the boat wobbled and then Becky wobbled and it was all she could do to maintain her balance.
‘Said it wasn’t me!’ Petra remarked with a laugh.
Bracing her core until the boat had stopped swaying, Becky finally sank down at the back of the wooden bench that circled the whole exterior and looked again at the lustre of the pool they were now floating on top of. She could see her reflection in the water, then, beyond that, pale rock, and next was shadow where it deepened.
‘Are you ready to see the nymphs?’ Kosmos let out a throaty laugh as he got among them, in the centre of the vessel, and picked up his oars.
‘The what?’ Petra asked.
‘The nymphs in Greece are everywhere,’ Elias replied.
‘He is right,’ Kosmos answered. ‘But here, in Melissani Cave, their presence is felt even stronger.’ He whispered but such was the cavernous nature of their surroundings it sounded much louder. ‘This is because it is believed it is at this very place, in this very cave, that the nymph Melissani drowned after she was rejected by Pan, the god of the wild and the companion to the nymphs.’
‘Oh, I see,’ Petra said, folding her arms across her chest. ‘Is this the story you make up for tourists? Are there keyrings of the drowned fairy at a gift shop on the way out?’
‘Petra!’ Becky exclaimed. ‘This is the history of the cave. It did say about the nymphs in your Greece guidebook.’ She really sometimes wanted Petra to put that filter she added to Insta onto her words before they made it out of her mouth. And this was coming from someone who believed in romantic comedies. Well, watched them anyway…
Kosmos put one hand on his heart, the oar almost slipping from his grip. ‘I promise to you. This is the fact of legend.’
‘Legend like a fairy story. Literally,’ Petra answered with a roll of her eyes. She got her phone out of the pocket of her jeans and began to snap pictures. At least she was impressed enough by the cave, even if she wasn’t into the myths. But this man was doing them a favour getting the boat out for them and all because Petra had wanted to come. The very least she could do was be respectful.
‘I’m so sorry about our… friend,’ Becky apologised.
‘Everyone who comes here with a broken heart…’ Kosmos continued, rowing a little, very slow, creeping from the rim of the lake towards the centre where the light was flowing in. ‘They feel the sadness inside of them more than others.’
‘What?’ Petra asked, pausing in her photo-taking to stare at their guide.
‘It is OK,’ Kosmos said, looking directly at Petra now. ‘The cave, it knows. And it will listen if you want it to.’
Becky watched Petra almost shrink back into herself. What was going on? Kosmos seemed to have hit a tender spot that had altered Petra’s entire demeanour. She might have wanted the young woman to quieten down a bit – OK, substantially – but she hadn’t wanted her to suck herself into a shell like a grumpy turtle. And that was a bit how she looked at the moment… but with great plaits.
As their guide continued his story, talking about the excavations of the cave in the 1960s that led to the discoveries of icons, plates and oil lamps, Becky felt herself relax into the moment. The sandwich-making enterprise was a million miles away. This relaxing, drifting into the centre of a cave-lake was hypnotically enchanting. The drip and gentle plopping of water spiralling from the stalactites into the cave was like soothing music. Time and reality were suspended.
‘Can you hear the nymphs?’
Elias had whispered to her from across the other side of the boat and Becky smiled at him. ‘No,’ she whispered back. ‘But I can’t hear Petra either.’ She felt instantly ashamed. It was wrong to make fun of anyone and Petra was uncommonly quiet at the moment. She already seemed to have developed a soft spot for her. Perhaps she was missing the interaction with Megan more than she had anticipated.
‘Do you think she is OK?’ Elias asked.
‘I don’t know,’ Becky whispered back, leaning a little towards him. ‘I don’t know her very well, obviously, as I only met her yesterday.’
‘Yes, but it is not always how long you know someone for,’ Elias said. ‘Sometimes the longer you know someone… the less you truly discover about who they really are.’
It sounded like he was speaking from experience and his eyes left hers to gaze into the grotto ahead of them.
‘I don’t think there’s anything wrong with feel-good stories,’ Becky broke the quiet. ‘When have bare, blunt facts really made anyone happy?’ She had got his attention back. ‘I was always happier remembering Boris Johnson sliding down a zip wire waving little Union Jacks than I was hearing about what he may or may not have argued with his girlfriend about.’
‘But the truth will always come out,’ Elias replied. ‘Always.’
Becky now had the intense feeling that neither of her companions’ minds were on fairies from long ago. Maybe this cave did have magical powers. It seemed everyone was feeling something. Except her. Perhaps because she felt things all the time. Responsible. Encumbered. Here she felt the opposite of those things.
‘This is the bright, light cave,’ Kosmos carried on, pointing to the sky above them. Even sitting down, it made Becky feel a little dizzy.
‘Next I will take you into the small dark cave,’ their guide told them. ‘So small that the oars will not fit outside the boat.’
‘What do you mean?’ Becky asked suddenly. She looked at Elias, feeling a little panicked. She wasn’t the best in confined spaces. The tunnel coming down here had only been OK because she could see the bright blue of the water in the lake illuminating the way ahead. ‘What does he mean?’
‘I do not know,’ Elias answered. ‘I have not been in this cave before.’
‘Do we have to go in the small cave? Can’t we stay in this one?’ Her heart was starting to flutter and not in a good way…
‘You don’t want to miss out on any nymphs, do you?’ Petra said, turning her head and looking at Becky. ‘I mean, especially the ghost of the dead one, complete with a hologram appearance. There’s bound to be a hologram appearance.’
Was it Becky’s imagination or had Kosmos’s rowing sped up now? It seemed like the oars were going in deeper as well as quicker and it looked like they were heading to an eerie corner of the cave. This didn’t bode well. The darkness was reminding her of the time she had got shut in the pantry at It’s A Wrap and it was half an hour before she could get anyone to answer their mobile phones. If she hadn’t had her phone with her, she could only imagine her anxiety at having to spend the whole night in there with nothing for company but chutney, mustard and Shelley’s many many catering-sized jars of peanut butter she had bought through the firm’s cash and carry account. Megan had come to the rescue, seeming slightly miffed at having to leave Dean at the poppadum stage of a curry evening, but when she had seen how distraught Becky had been she had instantly softened, wrapping her in the biggest of sisterly hugs and insisting on making them both hot chocolates exactly how their mum had made them when they were little – full-fat milk, cocoa powder, two sugars with cream and grated cinnamon on top.
‘Are you OK?’ Elias asked, as they drew further away from the circle of sky above them and moved into a cooler, darker atmosphere.
She nodded, holding her breath. She wasn’t. But she had to be. And telling him she was close to being claustrophobic might bring on all kinds of sympathy. Or it would enlighten Elias to the realisation that she was a flake who shouldn’t be holidaying alone. She could close her eyes. The ‘small’ had to be big enough for them to get the boat through. It was probably a lot bigger than she was imagining.
‘Here,’ Kosmos stated, his voice rebounding off the rocks. ‘I bring the
oars in so we can squeeze through. Very gently. Hold your breath as the walls appear to close in around us.’
Oh my God. Why was he talking like he was narrating a horror movie for the visually impaired? With her eyes closed, Becky was already imagining the cave clamping around the boat, splintering the wood first and then moving on to their internal organs before they met their death by crushing or drowning like the nymph!
‘Here, where it is very, very narrow, I must pull the rope attached to the cave so we can make it to the next chamber. Do not worry. Most of the boats make it through.’ Kosmos laughed, a throaty gurgle that with all the horror death imagery Becky’s mind was conjuring up, sounded distinctly sinister. Perhaps it would be better if she opened her eyes after all. There were three other people in the boat. She wasn’t on her own with the tight space…
She gasped at the scene that greeted her. Kosmos hadn’t been lying. It was narrow. So narrow she was almost close enough to put her nose against the granite – not that she was going to move an inch nearer to it. On the other side of the boat were stalagmites – phallic-looking cylinders poking out of the stone. This much tinier cavern – with no hole in its roof – was lit by a golden light. Despite Petra’s feeling about the legend and mystery attached to the place, there was certainly something ethereal about it. Becky tried to recapture the serenity and peace she had in the other chamber. She was safe.
‘Listen,’ Kosmos whispered.
‘What is it?’ Becky asked, eyes wide. If he said anything about bats she was going to grab the rope and pull them back into the other cave herself.
‘Can we swim?’ Petra interrupted.
‘Ochi,’ Kosmos said straightaway. ‘No. It is too cold to swim. The water in here is only fifteen degrees.’
‘But can we swim?’ Petra asked again.
Becky furrowed her brow, trying to listen for the thing they were supposed to be listening for that hopefully wasn’t part of the bat family… Hadn’t Petra heard Kosmos’s original reply?