One Last Greek Summer

by Mandy Baggot

  ‘Crazy? Mad? Fucking stupid?’

  ‘I was going to say beautiful,’ Beth admitted. ‘You deserve someone special to share your life with.’

  ‘But we’re both agreed it’s definitely not Tilly,’ Heidi said with a snort as she tied a band round the bottom of Beth’s hair.

  Beth smiled, enjoying feeling so much less tense than she had been in a long time. Whether it was the Corfu climate, the peaceful area they were staying in, the awakening of the forgotten side of her or simply having time to be still, it was ultimately empowering.

  ‘And it might not be Elektra either,’ Heidi admitted.

  ‘Heidi,’ Beth said. ‘It’s only been half a day since lunch. Don’t give up on her so easily!’

  ‘I’m not,’ Heidi said light-heartedly. ‘I’m really not. I just realised that if she doesn’t turn into my Miss Forever, I’m strong enough to be OK with that now.’ She finished off the plaiting and smiled at Beth. ‘No making Polish foods or moving to Namibia.’

  ‘That’s really good,’ Beth answered.

  ‘Because I need to be sure about a person before I commit,’ Heidi carried on, settling back on her arms and looking towards the shoreline. ‘There’s no way I want to be trapped in a relationship with someone controlling like Charles.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Beth replied, laying back on the warm sand, not caring where the grains were going to end up.

  ‘And Alex is sooo much sexier,’ Heidi added. ‘Like… Diego Boneta from Pretty Little Liars.’

  ‘I thought you had a crush on Hanna in that show.’

  ‘Have I ever not been able to see beauty in all sexes? It’s looking and admiring. You don’t always go to H&M and only come out with clothing essentials. Sometimes a sparkly little alternative will offer itself up to you.’

  Beth laughed. Heidi was completely right. After ten years of separation, Alex still had every God-given angular line and taut sinew she recalled. If anything, his thirties suited him even more than his twenties.

  An intense horn-beeping made both women start up from their prostrate positions. Beth checked her watch. ‘Is it really that time already?’

  ‘I thought you knew it was that time already,’ Heidi replied, standing up quickly. ‘I thought you were just being uber-relaxed and casual.’

  ‘I’m never like that!’ Beth exclaimed, leaping into action, brushing sand off her dress, thighs and backside, immediately fingering the bands that were holding her plaits in place.

  ‘You weren’t like that,’ Heidi said, grabbing Beth’s hands to stop the frantic de-sanding. ‘New you. New you, without the controlling ex-husband being in control and calling all the shots.’

  There was another beep, this time in the rhythm of a tune. It took mere seconds for the women to laugh together.

  ‘Was that really Shakira?’ Beth said, shaking her head, more tension dripping from her shoulders like a Mr Whippy losing its head in a heatwave.

  ‘It was,’ Heidi answered. ‘So don’t keep him waiting. Go on!’

  Beth smiled at her friend and was just about to start walking across the beach towards the cottage when a roaring sound began.

  ‘What the actual?!’ Heidi exclaimed.

  Careering onto the shore came a four-wheeled monster of a machine, tyres like over-sized Oreos spinning through the sand, flicking up a cloud of grain-infused dust as it sped straight towards them.

  Heidi hit the ground face first as the vehicle accelerated further still, turning sharply and finally halting at Beth’s feet. She knew exactly who the driver was before he removed his helmet. She didn’t know why she was surprised he had turned up in something other than a car.

  Alex grinned at her. ‘You are ready?’

  ‘You’re a mad man!’ Heidi said, rolling over, lips speckled with sand. ‘And here I was singing your praises!’ She spat out onto the beach, as if she had swallowed the entire shoreline.

  ‘I’ve never been on a quadbike before,’ Beth admitted, regarding the vehicle and taking in essential information. Could she get on it in her short summer dress? Where did she put her feet? Were her plaits going to stay in once she’d put a helmet on? What was in the large black box at the back of it?

  ‘I know,’ Alex answered, passing her a helmet. ‘At least… I know that you did not go on a quadbike in Corfu when you were last here.’

  ‘I’m not sure I should let her go on a quadbike with you after that display of driving… is it driving?’ Heidi asked. ‘Or is it riding? Because that machine looks like neither car nor motorbike. It’s an ugly hybrid that has “car crash” written all over it.’

  ‘Bike crash?’ Beth suggested, putting the helmet over her head. ‘As the clue is maybe in the name? Quadbike.’

  ‘I will take care of her,’ Alex said, revving the engine a little.

  ‘You’d better,’ Heidi warned. ‘Or Shakira’s she-wolf won’t be the only one you’ll have to worry about. I can grow sharp fangs when I need to.’

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ Beth insisted, sizing up the saddle and still wondering how she was going to mount it. ‘I’m sure Alex’s riding can’t be any worse than your driving.’ She looked to him. ‘How do I get on?’

  ‘Foot here.’ He indicated the plate where his deck shoes were resting. ‘Hands on my shoulders, then swing over.’

  ‘Never driving again this holiday after that insult!’ Heidi said loudly over the engine. ‘You’ll have to remain sober the entire time if you want to go anywhere!’

  Hands on his shoulders. Swinging over. None of that sounded easy to Beth Mountbatten. But she knew Beth Martin wouldn’t have carefully considered the instructions like they had accompanied a terribly-hard-to-put-together coffee table. She wanted to be Beth Martin again. Wholly and fully.

  Without any further thought, Beth put her hands on Alex’s broad, muscular shoulders and swung her body westwards, hoping it would drop naturally into place. What actually happened was her short dress got caught on a random spoke and she was left pitched literally on Alex.

  ‘Um… I can’t move,’ Beth said, her bodyweight pressing into him with nowhere to go.

  ‘Beth, still, after all these years I have this effect.’ She felt him laugh before she saw it on his face. This was one of the weirdest positions she had ever been in… actually it wasn’t quite as weird as the time she’d got her heel caught in someone’s wheelchair.

  ‘Stay like that a second,’ Heidi called. ‘I’ll grab my phone and take some shots for the Mountbatten Global blog.’

  ‘You won’t!’

  ‘You shouldn’t care,’ Heidi reminded. ‘You’ve resigned!’

  ‘I might need references.’

  ‘It is OK,’ Alex assured, his hand reaching round and getting dangerously close to her high upper thigh. ‘I can see what has happened.’

  It definitely wasn’t all he was going to see if her dress didn’t get its freedom soon. Maintaining this core-defying stretch was killing her. She didn’t want to lean every pound she weighed on Alex.

  ‘Lean a little into me,’ Alex told her.

  ‘Hang on,’ Heidi quipped. ‘Forget the photo. Let me do a video.’

  ‘It’s hurting a bit,’ Beth said, hating herself for sounding so pathetic. Was this what it had come down to? Being so out of practice at having fun that she couldn’t even get on a bike/car thing? Perhaps she should have given PRAMA fitness a try.

  ‘I’ve got you,’ Alex insisted, his deep, ragged yet soft tone close to her ear.

  His fingers were travelling over her thigh now and his touch was doing all sorts of inappropriate to her thoughts.

  Alex and her kissing for what had seemed like as long as free-divers can hold their breath. Sipping shots and dancing round a campfire until the sun came up. Leaning over his nakedness, him under her control, starting their sex fast at first, then sultrier and oh-so slow…

  She cleared her throat. How long was she going to remain here, perched stiff like a taxidermy bird, while her ex-lover reacquainted himself w
ith her body parts and made her palpitate.

  Suddenly she felt a release. Thankfully her dress and not her G-spot, and she was able to quickly rearrange her position and plump down onto the seat. Underneath the helmet, her cheeks were red from the exertion of holding herself and the hot daydream she had had about times gone by.

  ‘Are you ready?’ Alex asked her.

  ‘She’s so sooo ready, believe me!’ Heidi replied on Beth’s behalf, giving her an over-the-top wink.

  All day she had been fearless (almost) and strong and decisive. This was a rewind to 2009, but with heaps more experience… and much better plaits. She put her arms round Alex’s waist and held on tight. ‘Let’s go, Lex.’

  Thirty-Two

  Rovinia Beach, Paleokastritsa

  The very best thing about a quadbike, Beth had found, was the fact you could go off the main road and explore smaller tracks. They had risen away from the relative flat of the coast and round the mountain, sometimes zooming so quickly Beth had squealed at the speed. But there were other moments they had taken their time and meandered at leisure. Alex had shown her so many things when the pace had lessened – a particular dramatic vista (of which there were so many on this island), flowers growing in unexpected places, cats reclining in the evening sun and tiny tavernas covered in vines peeking out of the hillsides.

  As they travelled over hills and down into valleys it didn’t really occur to her to ask where they were going. Perhaps the date was simply this. Exploring the island, seeing as much of its beauty as they could fit in in one evening. It was natural and easy and perfect… and very much the Alex she used to know.

  ‘We are almost here,’ Alex called to her as he negotiated this latest, rather narrow track that seemed only appropriate for a very small, thin walker who hadn’t eaten for a week.

  ‘Where?’ Beth called back, breathing in and pressing her legs to Alex’s body to avoid being snagged by overhanging foliage.

  ‘You will see,’ he answered, bumping the quad over the pebbles.

  *

  As they came out of the olive wood vegetation, Alex stopped the quadbike and took in the splendour of this beach at Paleokastritsa. He wanted Beth to see every inch of this special place, letting it all soak into her. He took off his helmet and turned to say something, but Beth was already scrambling down from the bike, tearing at her own headgear.

  ‘Alex, where are we?’ Beth called, her eyes on the turquoise sea and the beach that, at this time of the evening, even though it was July, was only dotted with a handful of others.

  ‘It is called Rovinia Beach,’ he told her.

  ‘It’s so beautiful,’ Beth said. ‘And… oh my God!’

  He smiled to himself, watching her walk along, bending over and discovering the bed of the shoreline with her fingers.

  ‘Alex, there’s sea glass here!’ Beth told him. ‘Literally so much.’

  There was sheer delight in her voice and that was what he’d hoped for when he decided where to take her on this date. He didn’t have the means for fancy restaurants, but their time together before had been an extremely simple, grass-roots courtship. And that was how he was going to be this evening, the real him, the man with a fledgling kumquat enterprise who still desperately wanted to DJ. Except he didn’t know if that was now enough to earn Beth in his life for a second time.

  ‘Look!’ she exclaimed, beckoning him forward.

  He left the quadbike and strode over the sand and stones towards her. She was buzzing with energy, scouring the sea’s trove for more of the shiny pieces she sought.

  ‘You don’t even have to look that hard here,’ Beth said, plucking another piece from the ground and holding it out for him to see. ‘Look at this one, the shade of orange. It’s so rare. I can’t believe it.’

  He took hold of her hand and looked for a moment at the glass, before smoothing his finger, not over what she was holding, but over the fine lines on her palm. ‘I can’t believe you’re here with me.’

  She didn’t say anything, gazed at him, all honest green eyes and lips slicked with clear natural gloss, the braids taming her natural wavy hair like they had done when she was twenty-one. He wanted to kiss those lips. Be bold and brave and… take a chance on something for him like he was trying so hard to do in every other area of his life.

  ‘I left my job today,’ Beth told him. Her voice was rushed and a little emotional.

  ‘Wow,’ Alex replied.

  ‘I think I’m going crazy, Lex.’ She laughed then, her whole face lighting up with youthful joy. ‘I’ve spent the past five years reading magazine articles about women my age feeling the bite of the ticking clock of mortality earlier than ever before and I used to just pop another square of Green & Black’s chocolate in my mouth and think that will never happen to me and… here I am.’ She extended her arms into the air. ‘Standing on a beach in Greece with my holiday romance from 2009, no job, a house I hate and wearing something my mum would have said was way too short for a woman my age.’

  He could tell, apart from the jokey style with which she was delivering the words, she was close to tears. He reached up and palmed her cheek, letting her face settle in his hand.

  ‘God,’ Beth cursed. ‘I am the worst date ever. You deserve so much better than this. Look at this place. This beautiful place.’

  ‘I am only looking at you,’ Alex whispered. ‘And your mother is wrong.’

  ‘What?’ Beth asked.

  ‘The dress,’ Alex continued. ‘It is not too short.’ He swallowed. ‘You look amazing.’

  ‘Oh, Alex, I know I’ve changed quite a bit in ten years. I’ve done none of the alternative stretching classes that Heidi’s in to and I’m still fuelled more by coffee than Smartwater.’

  ‘You would rather live your life doing exercise you do not want to do, drinking things you do not want to drink?’

  She laughed then. ‘Saying it like that endorses everything I’ve been doing. Thank you.’

  ‘Well,’ Alex said, closing her hand over the piece of amber-coloured glass and grazing her cheek with his fingers. ‘I have brought a picnic for us. I do have water and salad, but I also have wine and cheese and all the oretiko I know you used to like.’

  Beth exclaimed excitedly. ‘Did you bring the one with aubergines? What’s it called again?’

  ‘Melitzanosalata,’ Alex answered, leading the way back towards the quadbike where the picnic was stored in the carry-box.

  ‘Melitzanosalata,’ Beth tried to repeat. ‘That didn’t sound anything like right.’ She scuffed the sand a little as if frustrated.

  ‘Greek is a difficult language to learn,’ Alex told her. ‘But not impossible. It only takes a little time.’

  ‘Perhaps I can try,’ Beth suggested. ‘While I’m waiting for my perfect job to come along.’

  ‘I do not understand,’ Alex said, stopping and looking right at her.

  ‘I told you. I resigned from my job today.’

  ‘And now you are free to start your jewellery business.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Beth said, waving her hand in the air as if swiping off his suggestion.

  ‘Why do you not know?’ he asked. ‘I think you have waited long enough.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Beth started, as they reached their transport. ‘Maybe I feel I’m too old to start again. Or maybe I’m too scared to try and fail.’

  ‘Beth,’ Alex said seriously, ‘if you think you are too old to chase your dream, what is the point of living another day?’

  He locked eyes with her and the connection between them started to deepen very quickly. He smiled at her, breaking the moment. ‘First aubergines,’ he stated, unlocking the box. ‘Then we work on your business plan.’

  Thirty-Three

  Rovinia Beach was one of the most serene places Beth had ever visited. It wasn’t a large expanse of sand and pebble, it was more like one of the Greek gods had delicately, yet deliberately, slid an ancient spade into the rock and stone of the mountain and hand-carved thi
s U-shape of perfection. Rocks topped with green sheltered them, grassland dotted with pretty wildflowers caressed the area between woods and seashore. It was somewhere with the ability to seep into you like life-giving elixir.

  Lying on her stomach, on a thick patterned throw Alex had lain down, Beth had assaulted the dips, bread, cheese and salad with more aplomb than a stag party round a beer keg. Every delicacy was hitting the right note, the flavours speaking of good times, new starts and moving on. The wine was also helping her unwind and here, in the evening sun, Beth was as far from a portfolio of ‘A’ and ‘B’ options than she had ever been.

  ‘You would like some more wine?’ Alex asked, proffering the bottle.

  ‘It’s delicious,’ Beth replied. ‘What is it called?’ She passed him the small tumbler she had been drinking from. It was old and heavy, nothing like the dainty, over-valued items in the awful cocktail glass cabinet in her lounge. She had always been terrified her lips might snap the fragile rims. She couldn’t remember her mum ever having used them either…

  ‘Glykos,’ Alex answered. ‘In Greek this simply means “sweet”.’ He filled up her glass. ‘It is not expensive but… well, I like the taste.’

  ‘I like the taste too,’ Beth said, taking another sip. ‘But I expect, being a high-powered businessman, you get to drink champagne all the time now.’

  There was an elongated pause that Beth actually felt between them and when she studied Alex, his expression was giving off ‘very uncomfortable’. He was cupping both his hands round the tumbler, eyes staring into the pale liquid.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked.

  ‘Nothing,’ he answered quickly. ‘I just…’

  ‘I get it,’ Beth said, interrupting. ‘Business is difficult. It’s a changing time and… apparently even Debenhams are struggling quite badly… which I’m glad my mum isn’t here to witness because she adored their make-up counters. And if a company like that is struggling then…’

  ‘Beth, I haven’t been honest with you,’ he admitted.

  She held her breath. He was married. Why was that the first worrying thing she had thought of? There were far more and worse things he could have lied about. Maybe he was seriously ill. Did seriously ill people attempt parasailing or drive quadbikes like they stole them? Only if they were carrying out a bucket list of things to tick off before they passed. A bit like her mum and the visit to the model village at Wimborne…