‘Here or—’
‘Driros. What about you?’
‘Um. Well. If you’re happy to hang out there I’d really like to take the chance to get some editing done. It’s all been a bit hectic until now.’ Falling in love and all that.
‘That’s fine.’ She smiles. ‘I know the beach isn’t really your thing. I don’t know how you’ve stood it all this week!’
I give her a tight smile. ‘Honestly? If I had to go there today I’d probably throw myself chest-first on the harpoon.’
She laughs. I don’t.
‘Have you eaten breakfast?’ I ask, continuing to operate in survival mode.
She nods. ‘Alekos made it for me.’
My heart sinks further into my boots. He never made breakfast for me. Admittedly I never lived with him when he had the use of both his hands – I gulp suddenly, trying to force back a violent reaction to the thoughts of his hands all over her perfect body.
‘Well, do you mind if I rush out and grab something to eat? I’m starving!’
‘I thought you were feeling nauseous?’ Jules frowns.
‘Yes, but I think I need something to settle my stomach. You know, dry toast or whatever.’
‘Oh, okay. Well, I have another treatment at six this evening so I should see you just before then. If you’re sure you’re going to be alright?’
‘Nothing that a cream pie won’t fix.’ And a drum of Valium, I think to myself as I stumble out the door.
I want to scrunch up and rock myself to oblivion but in my eagerness to get away from Jules, I have inadvertently exposed myself to a far broader audience. The hotel grounds are buzzing with people heading to the pool or the beach or breakfast. There’s nothing for it but to squish down my emotions and put my hysteria on pause for half an hour, after which time I can return to the suite and howl like a banshee.
In a bid to occupy myself I file mindlessly around the breakfast buffet but it just puts me in mind of last night’s dinner set-up and all my foolish hopes so I continue past the dried apricots and Cretan gruyère and keep walking. And walking. Down the path, back to the beach I cut across last night, up another path, just keep going. I propel myself onward until I inadvertently merge into the hotel’s sister property, the Elounda Bay Palace, and find myself contemplating the waterside restaurant Thalassa with a pang – that’s where Emily and Graeme dined last night. If only they were here now – Emily would understand my plight. She’d know what to do next. If I had their card on me I’d call, but I left it by the bedside, along with my phone, I now realise. I’m about to get even more stressed at my situation when I have a reality check – what could she, or anyone, possibly say to make me feel better?
I am now at the furthest point I can venture within the hotel grounds so I look around for somewhere to sit and try to form a plan. Opting for the informality of the beach, I forgo the sunloungers and slump directly on to the sand, raking my fingers back and forth through the warm blond granules in a daze. The tears are becoming more insistent now and I have to blink frantically to keep them at bay – I have no sunglasses to hide behind, I forgot to grab them in my eagerness to flee the suite. Oh why did I ever leave the shack? I wasn’t ‘rescued’ by Jules, I was untimely ripped. If I could only make her go away instead of me, could everything go back to how it was?
I snort at my own naivety. Maybe it’s a good thing she showed up when she did – forcing Alekos to reveal his true colours. So much for him being a god; he’s so patently just a man.
I am aware that the look of disgust and devastation on my face isn’t a good fit with the rest of the sunny, contented expressions around me and decide to move on in search of somewhere less public, but where to go?
‘Are you here for the tour?’
‘Pardon?’ I turn and see a shiny staff member beaming at me from a gateway.
‘We’re just showing a group our new Yachting Club Villas – you’re just in time.’
‘Great!’ I brighten, latching on to the distraction – anything that will compel me to maintain my brave face and get me out of the glare of the sun.
She leads us down a pathway, and into another world.
As with Jules’ suite, Elounda Bay seems integrated into the villa itself; there’s even a diving board and steps leading directly into the ocean lapping at the lower deck. (For the record there is also a middle and an upper deck, the latter with its own pool.) But as for the interior – I have never seen anything quite like it before. Our guide explains the concept of a contemporary loft with sliding wall partitions designed to create space changes to suit the guest. Apparently sometimes even the infinitely wealthy want to feel cosy.
‘We fly our Yachting Club Villa guests in by private jet,’ she continues as she walks us through the Bond-esque living area complete with backlit map of the world.
I form my first almost-smile of the day – it comes to something when ‘presidential’ feels like the poor relation.
As the group moves on to the bedroom area I find myself drifting on to the furthest jut of the deck. The aspect couldn’t be any more stunning and still I feel like howling my heart out.
I don’t understand why this situation with Alekos is having such a big impact on me. He’s just a guy I met on the ship a month ago, I guy I spent an intense few days with. Days. Not months, not years. Why does the sense of loss so far exceed the hours spent?
And if everything happens for a reason, what was the purpose of our encounter? And while we’re at it, what message is the universe trying to convey to me right now as I stand in this cross between bricks and mortar and a seafaring vessel? Go back to sea? Alekos was just a distraction, we have a millionaire lined up for you? There must be some positive spin I can put on this, but standing here broken-hearted in the midst of such privileged beauty, all that comes to mind is the title of the Christina Onassis biography I spied in the gift shop – All the Pain that Money Can Buy.
I need to excuse myself – surely Jules will have left by now? – but the guide is embroiled in a conversation with a pair of guests so I pretend to be studying the white leather recliner as I wait my turn.
‘Yes, yes, well, we also have a property on the Athens coast – Grand Hotel Lagonissi. I will have a brochure sent to your room.’
Athens! Suddenly I realise I have step one of my exit plan – interviewing the couple Alekos recommended! If I could set that up I would have the perfect excuse to run away. ‘I’m just popping to Athens!’ isn’t nearly so dramatic as, ‘I’m leaving!’ It also buys me a bit of time to decide what to do next. And at least if I do the interview, I’ll feel like this trip has served some purpose and then, when I’m ready, I can hop on a flight to London or maybe even Wellington. It might be fun to surprise my sister. I did think I’d wait until my next cruise took me a bit closer but if the fare isn’t too excruciating, then why not now?
The thought of seeing my family brings some comfort and the second I am back in the suite I start frantically researching travel options on my laptop. Just as naming songs helped Emily distract her mind from her fear of drowning, so for me looking up every possible flight time and carrier to Athens gives me an all-consuming sense of a purpose. When I’m done with airlines I move on to hotels, analysing the facilities, location and decor of every hotel, including one that has a Mini Cooper sliced in half as its reception desk. It amuses me to note that selecting ‘complimentary newspaper’ as an essential criteria reduces my options from ninety-seven to twenty-seven, like you’d forgo a view of the Acropolis for a copy of the Daily Mail.
Three hours pass in this numbing manner but before I commit to a booking I realise I should probably check the couple are willing to be interviewed, so I call the number Alekos gave me – there’s no reply, but at least they have voicemail so I leave a message, hoping none of my loss of faith is conveyed in my voice. At least now I’m starting to feel more in control. This is what I do best: I move on.
As my stomach emits its own little war cry I realise I�
�m even ready to eat something. Striding purposefully over to Kafenion, I defiantly choose the exact banquette seat where I saw the young cuddling couple last night. I refuse to be terrorised by the fear of being alone. I look at the menu and completely over-order – crumby dakos, tangy sardines and juicy wild mountain vegetables. No meagre portions for me!
But all too soon the adrenalin rush of flights, hotels and new horizons starts to wear off. I can feel the energy seeping from my body and my heart begins to ache again. And not just for Alekos. Suddenly the thought of leaving this place for ever seems unfathomable. And yet how could I remain here without always feeling that something profound is missing?
I pay the bill and wander over to the tiny church in the square. It’s just a little whitewashed affair from the outside but the inside, with its colourful saint portraits and incense wafters, catapults me directly back to the chapel at St George’s monastery on the night we arrived in Crete.
I think of the man I saw crossing himself by candlelight and sigh – how little I knew of Alekos then. I got to see so much more over the past few days, and now it’s all over.
In an instant my eyes well up and over – no holding back the tears now.
19
‘Suffering becomes beautiful when anyone bears great calamities with cheerfulness, not through insensibility but through greatness of mind.’ – Aristotle
I run all the way back to the suite where the full eruption takes over my body, wracking it with sobbing self-pity.
Why is love never for me? Why does it come to taunt me only to be snatched away? I so wanted to believe this time! And now this . . .
As I angrily mop my streaming eyes, I look at the oh-so-exquisite infinity pool with a kind of contempt – as if it was part of the conspiracy. How can Alekos have held me so tenderly in that water and then slept with Jules? I don’t understand. The rage and resentment is swamp-ing me again and I find myself tearing off my clothes and then plunging into the water, thrashing around trying to purge myself of all this anguish.
How could I have got sucked into this? They said he was a heartbreaker, I heard it loud and clear and yet I allowed myself to become utterly deluded! Why would I do that to myself? Am I really so keen to prove to myself that I am better off being alone for all eternity?
The mountains remain unmoved by my tantrum.
Eventually, when I can’t pummel the water any longer, I find myself leaning on the edge of the pool wall, staring out at those distant, slender land masses. Though my breath is still juddering from the tears, I know that I have got to try and find some dignity amidst this disappointment.
I try and bring my focus down to the minute detail of the Cretan stone walls, tracing the black veins of sea-weed embedded in the rock, picking at the crystal encrustings and exfoliating my fingertips on the gritty grey and gold surface.
I think part of me is still in shock. It is so disconcerting to have the rug pulled from under you just when life appears to be about to take a wonderful upturn. It was a new experience for me to like myself so much better in the company of another. I was enjoying the upgraded version of myself I was becoming around Alekos – an odd mix of more adventurous and more domestic at the same time. I thought I was bringing out the best in him too. Obviously I was mistaken.
I can’t bear that I’m already reverting to the stale, cautious version of myself. And worse yet, I can feel that nauseating adrift feeling returning.
‘Phone!’ I announce as I dredge myself out of the pool.
It’s a text from the couple in Athens! The good news is that they’ve agreed to be filmed, the bad news is that they can’t see me until noon on Sunday. Of course just because I don’t have an appointment with them for two days doesn’t mean I have to stick around here. I could say I want to spend tomorrow doing a location recce for the shoot or simply that I want to make the most of my first trip to Athens, do a bit of sightseeing while I’m there . . . anything but the truth.
As I take my laptop over to the bed to click in comfort, I wonder, are there people who would handle this differently? Would someone else have the guts to have said to Jules, ‘Actually, I’m going to have to ask you to not shag Alekos any more because it’s really hurting my feelings’? But what would that achieve really? I’m not looking for pity or to guilt-trip her, that would just make me feel worse about myself and smack of ‘If I can’t have him then no one can!’ As for confronting him, what could I possibly say now? He’s clearly not the man I thought he was. So what’s the point?
The best I can do is keep my mouth shut and leave without any drama.
I pull my computer on to my lap. For a demi-second I wonder about asking Jules to come with me to Athens – she came to Greece to see me, after all, and that way I’d be killing two birds – and a fledgling relationship – with one stone. But then I think of this morning and how she’d already decided to spend the day at Driros, regardless of whether I was going to be there or not. Her priorities are clear. As are mine.
Right. There’s a flight from Heraklion early tomorrow morning. That would mean just one more night here. I look up and around me – there are greater hardships. I can do this.
‘Selena!’
Apparently my resolve is going to be tested.
‘Oh dear, you don’t look much better.’ Jules frowns at my puffy face.
‘I’m still a bit iffy but it’ll pass.’ I shrug, realising I now have a fantastic excuse for copping out of any activity she might propose for tonight. If, that is, she’s thinking of including me . . . ‘You’re back early!’
‘Well, I’ve got some serious packing to do if I’m going to spend another night at that shack.’ She flumps down on the bed. ‘I can’t believe I’d forgo all this for a campbed and cheap sheets,’ she says as her palms fan across the cashmere-soft counterpane. ‘Maybe I’ll borrow a couple of pillows from here – if you don’t mind?’
‘Of course not, technically it’s all yours anyway . . .’
She twists around, as if this thought is just occurring to her now. ‘I suppose in a way you’re right. If only things were different and he could stay here . . .’
I blink back at her. Could she really be so callous as to oust me? First from the beach, now from the bed?
She reaches up and pulls a strained pose. ‘I’m actually thinking of changing my facial to a massage today because my back got so messed up last night.’
So it’s true. She’s got the guy, now she wants the adjustable mattress and the Egyptian cotton too! I feel dizzy with disillusionment but instead of confronting her I go the other way.
‘Tell you what, Jules,’ I say, voice tight with the agony of it all. ‘Why don’t we switch beds? You stay here with Alekos and I’ll stay at the shack with Loulou.’
At least this way I’d get decent company for the night.
Her eyes light up with glee but her mouth says, ‘Oh no, I couldn’t possibly ask you to do that.’
‘You’re not asking, I’m offering,’ I say, martyr to the end.
It is her room after all. Besides, I’m hardly in need of a shower you can have sex in. And this way I could leave for Athens without any fuss at all, not having to explain myself to anyone.
‘Well, it would just be for one night . . .’ She feigns being won over.
‘No problem, it’s not like I’ve even unpacked yet.’ I get to my feet, eager to get away from her. The nausea has returned full force.
‘Well, you hardly need to take your whole suitcase . . .’
‘Oh, you know what it’s like.’ I keep moving to avoid eye contact. ‘It’s almost easier to take everything than try and predict what I’m going to need.’
‘Mmm,’ she concedes. ‘Obviously you can take the car. You know it’s automatic.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Can I do anything to help?’
‘No, no!’ I trill. And then it occurs to me that we should probably check the arrangement with Alekos first. Or rather she should – I can’t imagine eve
r speaking to him again.
‘Don’t worry about that!’ she tuts as she changes into her robe. ‘Who’s going to turn down all this?’
I look at the deluxe suite complete with live sex toy. She has a point.
‘You know, I had the funniest thought today,’ she says as she twists her hair into a bun. ‘When I left work everyone thought I was getting married in Mauritius and now they’re going to look at my holiday snaps and be like, “Why is the groom holding worry beads?”!’
It now hits me quite strongly that this might be the last time I see Jules. I have enough trouble keeping in contact with people I like, and after everything that has happened here . . .
‘I suppose I could be gone by the time you get back.’ I test the water, to see if she’s going to offer any resistance to me walking out of her life.
‘Okay, if you could just leave your key in reception for Alekos, just in case he gets here before I’m out of the spa?’
Wow. I know I’m in a sensitive state but is that really it? No stay for dinner, no making up for last night?
‘I gotta go!’ Jules comes over and gives me a sturdy kiss on the cheek. ‘You’re a star!’
I want to correct her and tell her I’m the moon, actually, but in reality I am more of a third wheel, which is appropriate, I suppose, since I am currently in the country that invented it.
I can’t believe I only arrived at the hotel twenty-four hours ago and here I am already preparing to leave. I go back into the vast bathroom and pack away all my toiletries, then squish the clothes I dislodged back in my suitcase and take a few photographs to look at ten years from now when this will just be another snapshot from my world travels.
Every time I step on to the deck, the view seems a little different – now the wind is blowing patterns across the ocean surface like dark paint spraying outward, there’s a strange sense of foreboding as the clouds gather and even the water in the infinity pool gives a jelly-like shiver.
Out of the Blue Page 21