My Greek Island Summer

by Mandy Baggot

  He hadn’t bargained on that being a clause to this situation. Knowing his mother as he did, he maybe should have been ready for it.

  ‘Come for the panegyri this year.’

  The annual village festival. The one night everyone came together to celebrate. There were lambs on spits, loukoumades (doughnut balls usually drizzled with honey but, in Elias’s opinion, much better with chocolate sauce), homemade wine, beer and dancing to the musicians in the village square. It was very much like a Greek wedding. And that’s why joining in and celebrating with the villagers who had been there for the doughnuts and the music of his marriage to Hestia would be challenging for him. But, if moving on was what he had set his heart on and his mind to, there was only one answer he could give.

  ‘Yes,’ he told his mother. ‘I will come for the panegyri.’

  Eleni made a whooping noise he had never heard from her before and suddenly he was caught up in her rough embrace, her cheek pressed tight against his. ‘I did not think you would say yes. I thought you would say you were too busy, or you could not face it or…’

  ‘Moving on, Mama,’ Elias reminded her. ‘Embracing change. Listening. Speaking from the heart. Tell Papa you want to visit the canals of Venice.’

  ‘If I am to do that,’ Eleni began. ‘I will want at least three sausages and very, very strong coffee.’

  ‘Coming right up,’ Elias replied with a smile.

  Fifty-One

  Villa Selino

  Everything about Petra’s family had come pouring out last night over several cups of tea and an almost-incident with the TV that popped out of the breakfast bar unexpectedly.

  Petra was alone in the world, apart from, in her words, one ‘crusty great-aunt I met once when my mum had to bail her out of jail for crimes against pop socks in the Edinburgh Woollen Mill’. Becky hadn’t quite got to the bottom of that story, but what she had got to the bottom of was Petra’s parents and her beloved Maverick had all perished in a fire that had ripped through the lodge they were staying in while Petra, missing the holiday, attended a music festival with her friends. She had gone from having it all to having nothing at all. Well, nothing except the small fortune in property and share portfolios her family had left behind for her. Financially Petra was set for life. Emotionally she was hanging on by a thread. She had no compass and that was why she was swinging up and down and all around the equator every chance she got. She was spending that fortune like it was a bottomless reservoir because she didn’t know what to do and she had no one to do it with. Petra might act like the proverbial free spirit but, in truth, she was lonelier than the last dodo.

  And now, despite Becky slipping a shot of ouzo into her morning coffee, Petra had clammed up all over again. She was lying on one of the luxury padded daybeds, ear buds in, sunglasses on, unspeaking. It was another beautiful day, the sky cloudless, the sun already hot. And now the truth had come out, Becky was worried about her travel companion. What did happen to Petra when Becky’s time in Corfu was over? Was Becky going to be able to say goodbye and not worry that the young woman was most probably going to carry on her rootless existence full of deep sadness? She wasn’t sure she could wave Petra goodbye at the airport knowing the likelihood was the girl would be hotfooting it to the next Greek island with no reservations made or plan to look after herself.

  With Becky’s finger hovering over the ‘send’ button on the email to the nursing home with the party pitch attached, she was distracted by Petra’s plight and decided to test if she was listening.

  ‘Petra, would you like to borrow my book?’ From her position, on a daybed a few loungers down, Becky waved her copy of How to Find the Love of Your Life or Die Trying.

  No answer. Maybe she was enveloped in music, listening to the latest from Ellie Golding or someone…

  ‘Would you like some water? Or another coffee?’ Becky tried again.

  Usually, offering to wait on Petra got a response, even if her whole head was ensconced in a towel after the shower.

  ‘I don’t want another coffee if you’re going to put more ouzo in it.’

  Yes! Petra might be snapping back but she was listening and engaging.

  ‘Oh, you noticed.’ Becky got up, still holding the book.

  ‘What was the plan with that?’ Petra asked, head still facing the pool and the view beyond. ‘Get the orphan girl softly pissed so she doesn’t cry anymore?’

  ‘No. Petra, no, of course not.’

  Petra moved then, swinging her legs over the side of the daybed and standing up. She was a lot taller than Becky in those wedged sliders she had on.

  ‘And as for your book. I wouldn’t wipe my arse with it.’ Petra grabbed the tome out of Becky’s hands and glared at it like she might want to psych it into having an arm-wrestle with her. ‘I mean who is Camilla Forth anyway? Because she sounds like a stuck-up bitch to me. Writing books about love and life like she’s an authority on it. I bet she hasn’t had as much experience as me.’

  ‘I… don’t expect she has. Although there is a paragraph at the back about her degree in—’

  ‘And there we are! That’s it exactly!’ Petra flapped her arms in the air, agitated.

  ‘What’s it exactly?’ Becky asked.

  ‘It’s all about degrees and certificates and letters after your name, isn’t it? If you don’t have a magic piece of paper or a knighthood you can only get a crappy job like… like… carrying people’s bags or something.’

  ‘You want a job?’ Becky asked. She was astounded. She had almost choked on the sentence. Serial holiday-er Petra wanted to join a workforce?

  ‘No… well… maybe… I don’t know.’ She sighed. ‘Because my parents left me and I bombed my A-levels because they left me and then I thought “travel”, see some of the things they had seen and all the things they never got to see and, you know, I’ve worked a bar and I’ve picked fruit but I don’t want to do that for the rest of my life. But what do I do for the rest of my life?’

  The tears were coming back and the aggression about her situation was subsiding. Petra’s shoulders slumped and Becky stepped forward, wrapping her arms around her friend.

  ‘Petra, you do know you’re the most interesting person I’ve ever met,’ Becky told her.

  ‘You said you live in a Wiltshire backwater where the big news of the week is how much lead has been stolen from the church roof.’

  ‘You’re still the most interesting person I’ve ever met and the most resourceful. I mean, you are not scared of jumping headfirst into anything and I am so, so jealous of those skills.’

  ‘Anyone and everyone can be reckless though,’ Petra said, sniffing back tears.

  ‘Oh really?’ Becky answered. ‘Because you’ve seen me being totally reckless the whole time we’ve known each other.’

  ‘You were reckless in your own way by even coming to Greece and housesitting for some antiquities hoarder,’ Petra replied. ‘You stood up to your sister and told her you were having this break whether she fired you or not.’

  Becky had forgotten she had told Petra all that. And she still didn’t know if she had been fired because there had been zero communication from Megan. She had had a couple of really odd texts from Hazel and Shelley too. They’d both said ‘Elsa is coming’ and Becky had no idea who Elsa was. Her first thought was someone from the nursing home, but the manageress was definitely called Stephanie. Oh, what was going to happen when she came home? Would Megan have changed the locks? Was sending that pitch to the care home going to add fuel to the fire? Or perhaps, if she had been given the boot, she had no authority to make the pitch on behalf of It’s A Wrap anymore…

  ‘You make connections with people,’ Petra carried on. ‘Proper, meaningful connections.’ She sighed. ‘When people talk you really listen and you engage… you know, sensibly, with words… not your tongue… with the promise of other body parts later if people give you a little attention.’

  ‘Oh, Petra.’

  ‘I’m too scared to sta
y in one place and get to know people, because I lost all the people I knew the best and… I can’t go through that again. So, I do lots of different places and lots of different people and lots of everything, so I don’t have time to think about it or know anyone well enough to talk about it.’ She nodded firmly, as if that plan was still somehow working for her. ‘Except with you. I told you.’

  ‘You did,’ Becky said softly. ‘And that’s a huge step.’ She took a breath. ‘I understand how you feel, Petra, I really do. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned from losing my dad, it’s that you can do all the remarkable things there are to do – the Great Wall of China, the Great Barrier Reef—’

  ‘A Roger I had in Switzerland was pretty great.’

  ‘Petra!’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Remarkable things like those wonders of the world are only remarkable because someone else has said they are. What’s really remarkable about life is the little things.’ Becky put an arm around Petra and drew her closer, moving them both so they were facing the lush vegetation that surrounded the villa, the ocean lying out in front of them, the bright pebbles of the beach accepting the constantly moving carpet of waves. ‘It’s about moments, sometimes quiet and insignificant moments. Like listening to the sound of the sea or… listening to people make animals noises in a ridiculous dating game in a Greek village or…’

  ‘Sitting on cushions drinking beer in the Plaka District of Athens… with… friends.’

  ‘Yes!’ Becky exclaimed. ‘It’s exactly that. It’s laughter and sunshine and…’

  ‘Getting pissed at the TV that keeps popping out of the breakfast bar.’

  ‘And being scared of bear-things.’

  ‘And finding a flamingo in the bath.’

  ‘Or drooling over Greyston Holt… He’s my favourite Hallmark actor by the way.’

  Petra was looking much brighter now and Becky was warmed by her enthusiasm. Telling Petra her mantra about simplicity was helping her to realise exactly what she had been hoping to find in Greece. Initially she had thought it would be adventure and sightseeing, just like Petra, but really the most fun, the times that had touched her soul were all the details. It was eating the most succulent meats, learning a few words of Greek, nearly dying trying to sail a tiny dinghy, kissing Elias inside an ancient castle… especially kissing Elias.

  ‘I don’t know what I want to do next,’ Petra admitted. ‘I’ve never known what I want to do next.’

  ‘No one really knows what they want to do next,’ Becky told her. ‘Honestly, even those who think they have it all together usually don’t.’ Like her? Wondering whether sandwich-making was really her future, or the future she’d chosen because it meant she could help her sister and release her mum for a new life in Blackpool.

  ‘I’ve never given myself time and space to think about it,’ Petra admitted, looking wistful now.

  ‘Well, why don’t you do that?’ Becky suggested. ‘While you’re here in Corfu, take time to think about what you want to do next. You don’t have to tour the Greek islands and tick off all the great sunsets…’

  ‘Although that does sound kind of fantastic.’

  ‘Maybe you want to study some more? Or learn to be a… deep-sea diver.’

  ‘Did you see me in the cave?’ Petra asked. ‘I nearly killed myself showing off. If it hadn’t been for Elias…’

  Elias. Her Elias. Was he? Could he be? The very thought of it warmed her more than the Corfiot sun. That would be an unexpected little thing that was actually quite a big thing. A man in her life. Someone who in such a short space of time had become so important to her.

  ‘Oh snap,’ Petra said in a thick American accent. ‘You’re in love.’

  ‘No… no… don’t be silly.’ It couldn’t be love. Love at first sight, or after a few romantic interludes, only happened in those Hallmark movies she and Petra loved. Usually there was plaid involved… and an all-seeing, all-knowing grandmother figure…

  ‘You’re in love with Elias. The second I mentioned his name your face went all melty on me… like someone with dodgy fillers standing too close to a fire.’ Petra made the shape of a love heart with her hands, curling her fingers then moving the heart shape towards Becky.

  ‘I did not go melty! I don’t even know how to go melty!’ Had she? Was it love? Whatever it was, it was something. And he had said it was something too.

  ‘I think you two could work. As much as I know about relationships working, because you know my hooking-up lifespan is generally shorter than Warwick Davis.’ Petra pointed a finger. ‘And there’s the issue with him liking the much older woman. I mean, I know you’re late twenties but…’

  ‘About that,’ Becky said. ‘Eleni… she’s Elias’s mother.’

  ‘What?’ Petra asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, I’m pleased he wasn’t boning her, obviously, but a potential mother-in-law who wears night vision goggles… I’m not sure I’d go there.’

  Becky’s phone bleeped then and she looked to the day bed it was resting on. Was it finally a sensible text from Hazel or Shelley? Before she could even think about going to get it, Petra made a dash, plucking the phone from the mattress and observing the text.

  ‘Petra! Don’t you read that!’ Becky rushed after her.

  ‘It’s from Elias!’ Petra looked up from the screen. ‘Look! Look at you already glowing. What did you two get up to last night?’

  Becky snatched the phone out of Petra’s grasp and read the message.

  If you are free I would very much like to take you out today, Captain Rebecca. Dress code is swimwear. 11 a.m.? Elias x

  ‘It’s very formal for a text,’ Petra remarked.

  ‘You read it already?’

  ‘I’m a fast reader.’ Petra smiled then. ‘I could put that on my C.V.’

  ‘I wonder where he’s going to take me?’

  ‘Oh, Becks, the opportunities here on an island!’ Petra said. ‘Have you ever done it on top of a cliff? Or underwater? Or there was this one time in Tunisia I actually did it in a tuk-tuk… and he was driving!’

  Fifty-Two

  Kouloura

  His mother and father had both laughed. He had heard it loud and rich and warm while he was helping get Areti’s washing in order at one of the tables inside the cafeneon. As well-meaning as the Greek woman was, he also knew she had only lingered to see what would develop between his parents. And things were developing, he could see that. In fact, such was their engagement with each other, he had had to remind them to eat their breakfasts before the food went cold. Finally, when Becky had responded to his text about meeting up, he had left them both dealing with customers like old times. Except he hoped that this time they would be more honest with each other about what they wanted from their life together. Maybe a breakfast could not fix everything, but he hoped his intervention had given them a springboard to whatever came next.

  ‘I like this boat a lot more than I liked the small one.’

  Elias smiled at Becky and passed her a glass of champagne. She was sitting on the bow of the cruiser dressed in a rather nice black one-piece swimsuit that had slightly see-through mesh in certain sections of it. It was very her. Slightly sultry, classy, definitely hot…

  ‘I like you on this boat more than the small one,’ he replied, moving to join her on the padded sunbathing area. ‘There is currently less screaming and—’

  ‘No octopus.’

  ‘That is something I cannot guarantee for the whole of the day.’

  ‘Please say you mean we’re going to be eating them.’ She smiled and took a sip of her champagne. ‘As much as I’m not giving up my meat addiction, I’m enjoying trying different things.’

  ‘Is that so?’

  They had sailed from Kerasia where he had picked Becky up and were now anchored just outside the bay of Kouloura. There were several yachts and small tourist boats in the harbour, but nothing too close. It was very private and secluded. It was peaceful and,
he hoped, romantic.

  ‘This is not my boat,’ Elias told her, gazing out over the water.

  ‘Oh,’ Becky answered. ‘Here I was, expecting you to tell me that you’re really a Greek prince in another twist to our tale.’

  Elias smiled at her then. ‘I like that.’

  ‘That I suggested you might be a prince?’ she asked as he sat a little closer to her.

  ‘No,’ he replied immediately. ‘That you said “our” tale.’ Just repeating her words give him a little kick of joy deep inside.

  ‘Well,’ Becky said. ‘We can’t deny that we do have a tale together. It started at Heathrow and…’

  ‘It moved to Greece,’ he said, his fingers coupling with hers. ‘Unexpectedly to Kefalonia and even to the very same part of Corfu.’

  ‘Like it was meant to be,’ Becky breathed.

  ‘Yes.’ Elias’s heart was galloping now, like a racehorse who was sprinting through the final furlong to hopeful victory.

  ‘But, it’s too fast, isn’t it?’ Becky asked, leaning back a little and taking back her hand.

  She was backing off and being sensible. She was evaluating the probability of this being nothing more than a holiday flirtation. It was what he had done himself, thinking firstly about Chad’s case and then simply the complications of getting involved with someone again.

  ‘Who or what is it too fast for?’ Elias asked her. Because he was certain now. He wanted to see how this panned out. Not just here in Corfu, but when they got back to the UK. Surely they were not too far away to be able to maintain a connection? Although she did say she might want to keep travelling. How would things work between them then?

  ‘I don’t know,’ Becky admitted. ‘It just… seems crazy to think of how we met and how this happened and…’