Out of the Blue

by Belinda Jones

  ‘It’s fine.’ I put him out of his misery. ‘I actually got a text from Jules this morning. She sent it last night but I’d switched off the phone at nine p.m.’ Now I’m rambling.

  ‘So what did she say?’

  ‘Just, When are you coming back? And she offered to pick me up at the airport when I return.’

  ‘Hmmm, someone’s feeling guilty. I take it she has no clue that you’re doing a runner?’

  ‘Not yet.’ I sigh. ‘Half of me feels like I’m being a cow but the other half feels entirely separate from her now. Do you think it’s odd, the way I’ve just switched off? She was supposed to be my best buddy!’

  ‘I think you’re hurt and your trust has been tampered with and you’re doing what you have to do to cope.’

  I smile at him. He really is turning out to be an ideal friend. ‘Thank you for being non-judgemental.’

  ‘I’m not judging you,’ he confirms. ‘I do have a thought or two about her, however . . .’

  ‘Really?’ I cock my head.

  ‘I know you say she didn’t know she was muscling in on your action and that she’s on the rebound, but her behaviour does strike me as a tad selfish and unsisterly.’

  I go to agree but then our main platters arrive and I go the other way. ‘Well, we’re none of us perfect, are we?’ I shrug. ‘I’m sure whenever we’re back in England it’ll be like none of this ever happened.’

  ‘End of subject?’ Greg raises a brow.

  ‘Well, she can take my man but she’s not messing with my meal!’

  As we eat we first talk briefly about New Zealand and then our respective parents – apparently Greg’s never liked Marcia.

  ‘It’s so annoying when they’re proved right, isn’t it?’ I tut as I dab my chin with my napkin.

  ‘Ah, but the beautiful thing about having children is that you can never regret the relationship that brought them into the world!’

  I chuckle. ‘That’s true. You wouldn’t want them any different, would you?’

  He shakes his head.

  ‘What do you wish most for them,’ I ask, ‘in terms of future relationships?’

  ‘Well, that’s a long, long way off . . .’ He takes a sip of wine and mulls over the question. ‘It’s funny, isn’t it? In every other aspect of their lives I’d wish for them to reach for the stars but all I can think in terms of relationships is that I hope they don’t get too hurt.’

  I nod. ‘I know what you mean. Who even believes in great love any more? It’s so easy to get stymied by the fear of the pain.’

  ‘Which happens to be a very real fear and a truly horrible pain,’ Greg concurs. ‘Oh god, listen to us!’ He grimaces. ‘How are you going to get through an interview with a couple of believers in this mood?’

  ‘Don’t worry, they’ll do all the work and if it’s anything like all the others, I’ll come out with my faith entirely restored and little birds tweeting around my head.’

  ‘Excellent – and then you can convince me that happy endings do exist.’

  ‘Deal!’

  We enjoy ten more minutes’ peace, and then move on to the assigned interview location – Zea Marina, just a few minutes’ taxi-ride down the coast but distinctly more yachtie than fishy with a jostle of white masts jutting from gleaming, freshly hosed decks. Greg pauses to admire a sharp fifty-footer, so sleek and stark, banded with smoked glass like a pair of wrap-around shades.

  ‘This is so St Tropez!’ Greg raves. ‘Or so I imagine . . . ?’ He looks to me for confirmation.

  ‘Well, St Tropez is certainly very ritzy and picturesque, but it doesn’t offer quite such a sweeping vista!’ I raise his gaze from the port, out to sea.

  Greg virtually stumbles back at the sight of the vast and majestic coastline, leading the eye all the way back to the high-rises of central Athens.

  ‘I love it here!’

  ‘Me too!’ I agree. Possibly because this marina seems to be more about boats and less about being seen in the right restaurant – I think I like it even more than Mikrolimano. Especially when I notice that one of the yachts is named Wounded.

  ‘Will you be using this as the backdrop for your interview?’ Greg enquires.

  ‘I hope so, though the sea breeze can play havoc with the hair!’ I note, releasing a strand of my own from my mouth.

  ‘Are you nervous? I mean, these are friends of Alekos, aren’t they?’

  My heart does a little flip. I hadn’t even thought of that. ‘I don’t know how well he knows them . . .’ I say, trailing off. ‘But I’m sure it’ll be fine. Generally, it’s just a case of winding them up and letting them go.’ I look at my watch. ‘The interview will probably take about an hour and then I allow half an hour for faffing. Are you sure you’re going to be alright here?’

  ‘Are you kidding? I may have a little wander but most likely I won’t even budge from this spot,’ he says, settling himself on the nearest bench.

  ‘Okay, I’ll see you right back here around three o’clock. Any problems, call me.’

  ‘Aye, aye, Captain!’

  He looks so sweet and content sitting in the sunshine. ‘Maybe you’ll even find a millionairess!’ I tease him as I turn towards the apartment the couple described over the phone.

  ‘I can feel myself getting richer just sitting here!’ he calls after me.

  24

  ‘A heart that loves is always young.’ – Greek proverb

  ‘Kalispera!’ I give my minimal Greek an airing as I press the buzzer on the front of the building. ‘This is Selena!’

  ‘Welcome, welcome!’ The door springs open and Nikos and Athina greet me with a fierce hug and kiss, muttering excitedly to each other in Greek, as though they had a bet on what I’d look like from my voice.

  I go to close the door behind me but they peer past me demanding, ‘Where is Alekos?’

  Did they really expect him to escort me? Perhaps he was planning to. It’s not like I discussed this arrangement with him at all. ‘He’s still in Elounda,’ I tell them, hoping they’ll still be alright talking to me. ‘Working at the beach.’

  ‘Oh, oh, he had to work . . .’ They nod, satisfied with the reason, making some reference to Angelos still being away. ‘So, come, come!’

  They bundle me up two flights of stairs and then they step back, insisting I enter the apartment first, to get the unobstructed benefit of their pride and joy – the wall-to-wall lounge window showcasing the dazzling marina, even more photogenic from this height.

  ‘Oh, that’s just perfect!’ I gasp, especially since this means no hair dancing – and what my couple lack in height they certainly make up for in follicular abundance: him with a dense grey sweep, her with a chestnut cascade.

  ‘We didn’t know which seating you would prefer?’ They show me a line-up that looks like we’re ready to play musical chairs, back in the Fifties. I suspect all their furniture has been inherited, everything is delightfully mismatched and yet there is a charm from the woven rugs on the laminate flooring to the photos and religious artefacts in cheap frilly gold frames on the walls.

  ‘Well, nothing too big to block out the view,’ I say, dismissing the velvet armchairs. ‘Can I have a look at you on these, if it’s not going to be too uncomfortable?’

  They quickly oblige my choice of kitchen stools with little base-of-spine backs.

  ‘That’s great, you can’t even see them. Now I might have to shine some light on you to make sure you don’t become silhouettes with all that bright sunshine behind you . . .’

  The last thing I want is for them to come off like documentary criminals or teen prostitutes keen to conceal their identities – this is supposed to be a celebration of their love, not a covert operation.

  ‘Would this help?’ Nikos offers me a torch.

  ‘Um, do you have anything bigger?’

  Suddenly every lamp, candle and bulb is paraded before me.

  It takes a bit of adjustment but we finally get the balance right, with the help of m
y handy portable reflector disc purloined from one of the ship’s photographers.

  ‘You both look lovely,’ I compliment them on their Sunday best and glowing complexions – I can still feel the silkiness of their skin from our initial embrace. They both have an earthy, grounded quality to them but when they start to relax and joke with each other I see Alekos’ twinkle in Athina’s eyes.

  ‘You could almost be related!’ I tell her as I marvel at the resemblance – especially in those distinctive green eyes.

  ‘We are!’ She laughs. ‘He’s my nephew! He didn’t tell you?’

  ‘No.’ I frown, feeling a little foolish.

  ‘Yes, yes, he used to live with us during the school year.’ Nikos points to the wall and I home in on a photo of a chubby teenage Alekos in a whole different kind of uniform to the one I’m used to seeing.

  ‘He is a different shape now, of course.’

  ‘Yes he is!’ I smile at his cuddliness and then feel a pang: how I wish I could turn back the clock and find myself here for tea after a maths lesson – I could have been his childhood sweetheart!

  ‘Would you like a little wine?’ Nikos offers, jolting me back to the present day.

  I hesitate. It’s likely to make me feel worse but I say yes anyway and watch with amusement as Athina goes burrowing beneath the sink and siphons golden liquid from some hidden contraption.

  ‘Yamas!’ I say, chinking glasses with them. ‘So, shall we begin?’

  ‘Are you hungry?’ Athina checks, luring me over to a pot on the stove. ‘My mother’s recipe . . .’ She makes me try a spoonful of what turns out to be a mix of carrots, celery and rice.

  ‘From Macedonia.’

  It is utterly delicious, her tip being that the vegetables are cooked in oil, not boiled in water. I explain that I’ve already eaten but suggest we might film a minute or two of them enjoying the feta and tomatoes cut in big ragged chunks, for a bit of local flavour.

  After my night at a neutral hotel, it is strange to be in this homely Greek environment and it makes me feel close to Alekos again which has good and bad aspects – usually when I do my interviews, I sit with a rapt look on my face as the story unfolds of how the couple met. Initially I try not to direct them too much or ask too many questions as I like them to be able to tell it their way and I love watching how they interact, taking it in turns, overlapping each other, beginning and ending where the other left off or seeing who focusses on which detail. But today, instead of feeling inspired, I just feel sick to my stomach with envy. I want what they’ve got! I want to be embedded in someone else’s life, I want my fingers to still be entwining with his in forty years. I think it’s because I felt so recently like I had a shot at it myself that it’s all the more poignant. Several times I have to zone out, nodding encouragement without even listening as I try to hold back my tears. The fact that Uncle Nikos periodically uses a phrase just like Alekos makes it all the more excruciating. Why did this ever seem like a good idea?

  As they talk I wonder if Alekos suggested them because their story begins in a similar way to ours – in as much as he was too pushy and she was resisting because she’d heard he had a reputation. But then it goes a whole lot deeper with hardships and enforced separations that really tested their devotion. Ultimately I get sufficiently drawn in that I forget my pitiful plight although, come the end, I’m still in need of a tissue.

  ‘Well, that’s a good sign!’ I tell them, trying to jolly myself up. ‘If you can reduce an old cynic like me to tears, you’ll be a big hit!’

  ‘You’re not as cynical as you think you are,’ Athina tuts.

  ‘Aren’t I?’

  ‘Well, of course, we just go by what Alekos has told us . . .’

  I want to ask, ‘What has he told you?’ And more importantly, ‘Why has he done what he’s done?’, but it’s not appropriate.

  ‘You want to see some more photographs? I think I have some in the bedroom drawer.’ Athina tinkers off before I can stop her.

  ‘You look a little sad when you look at his picture,’ Nikos comments, catching me glancing back at the teenager.

  ‘I just miss him, I suppose.’

  ‘But you’ll be back there tomorrow?’

  ‘No,’ I shake my head. ‘It’s time for me to move on.’ Again.

  ‘Why?’ he splutters.

  I shrug noncommittally. I didn’t come here to bad-mouth their nephew.

  ‘I don’t understand.’ Nikos seems to require a reason.

  ‘He’s with my friend now.’ I crack.

  ‘With?’ His brows knit together.

  ‘Yes, with.’

  ‘No, no, no, no!’ He’s having none of it.

  ‘I feel the same way but it is what it is.’

  ‘When did this happen?’

  ‘Three days ago. She turned up unexpectedly, they met at the beach and by that night they were together.’

  ‘It’s not possible. That is not Alekos.’

  Athina has returned and Nikos brings her up to speed in Greek. She is equally incredulous. I don’t know why they are acting so surprised. He must show a very different side of himself to them.

  ‘He never rushes into affairs,’ Athina insists.

  ‘Never,’ Nikos confirms.

  ‘Even at the cost of having people say that he is cold or arrogant or a heartbreaker or gay!’

  ‘I hadn’t heard that last one,’ I say.

  ‘Well, it’s amazing what women will say to explain away the rejection.’

  ‘Ever since—’ Athina stops herself. ‘The reason doesn’t matter, all you need to know is that he does not jump on the bed quickly.’

  I smile at her phrasing. ‘Well, perhaps if you saw my friend it would make more sense. She’s absolutely stunning. All men—’

  ‘It’s not the looks,’ Nikos dismisses my rationalisation. ‘You see this boy?’ He taps the photo frame. ‘He became very good at judging people’s characters – imagine when he shed his weight and the girls rushed to speak to him . . . He could see the difference in their eyes. He went out with a few of the pretty-pretty girls for the novelty but all that did was clarify his position. And then –’

  Nikos and Athina exchange a look.

  ‘Is it really so awful?’ I’m starting to get concerned. ‘Whatever it was that happened?’

  ‘We should have tea,’ Athina decides, while Nikos takes up the story.

  ‘A few years ago, he started to see this woman but very quickly he realised it was a mistake. He tried to step away gently, with honour, but she became hysterical. Refused to accept the situation. He tried to be more firm with her – It is over. They have no future. And then she went to commit suicide.’

  I gasp out loud. ‘Oh my god. Did she live?’

  He nods. ‘But for a while that was not a certainty.’

  ‘It really put a burden upon him. He had many nightmares.’ Athina leans in the doorway. ‘He didn’t do anything wrong – you can’t be held responsible for someone else’s emotions – but it doesn’t take long for the story to get twisted. Yes, people agree that her action is a comment on her instability but people also wonder, what did he do to provoke her? He was so cautious after that, didn’t want to get involved with anyone in case they also turned that little bit crazy . . .’

  That’s actually really scary. I think how I’d feel if I was in the same position – some guy you’re in a casual situation with decides they’d rather die than live without you. Even if you know that you did nothing wrong, you would still be shaken up and question yourself.

  ‘So of course the girls continue to throw themselves at him, they ask him out, they try to take him to the bedroom and he turns them down and that’s when he starts to hear stories coming back about himself – that he’s heartless and arrogant but really he’s just being careful.’

  It takes me a moment to get my head around all this. He certainly did turn down a number of women on the ship. I saw that with my own eyes a few times. But how can they explain ho
w he was with me?

  ‘The strange thing is,’ I begin, ‘I found him too full-on. He didn’t seem cautious with me at all.’

  ‘Well, he’d done his research, he felt he could trust you.’

  ‘And he knew you were leaving the ship, he didn’t want to lose you. He had a limited amount of time to win you!’

  ‘Hold on!’ I need to backtrack a little. ‘How do you mean research? Is there some dossier on me that I don’t know about!’

  Athina comes over and sets down our respective tea cups. ‘Let me see, you’d never eaten crab before you came to Alaska, you have a dream of learning to tango in Argentina and your favourite mode of transport is a floatplane.’

  ‘How do you know all this?’ I’m actually quite freaked out now.

  ‘When Alekos is in love, he has to speak about it. He would ring us and tell us all the things that you’d said in your excursion talk.’

  ‘I never saw him there.’ Although, granted, the theatre auditorium does seat several hundred and you can easily loiter at the back by the door, completely out of view. I’ve done that myself when I know I can’t stay for the full duration of the talk and I don’t want to look like I’m walking out midway through because I’m bored.

  ‘When he couldn’t get there in person he would watch in his cabin,’ Athina adds.

  Of course. I’d forgotten about that – all our talks are broadcast on the in-house TV channel.

  ‘He really used to watch me?’ I can’t help but be flattered, especially when I’ve lost count of the number of people who’ve dropped off during my talks.

  ‘He said you were his favourite show!’ Nikos laughs. ‘He loved the Q&A session at the end, especially when the questions were completely unrelated to the topic of the day. He couldn’t believe how patient you were with everyone.’

  ‘So if he came across as overly familiar, it’s because he felt he already knew you,’ Athina confirms. ‘He trusted you. And he knew he wanted you. And that was that.’

  ‘And what if I didn’t want him?’

  ‘He’s Greek.’ Athina rolls her eyes. ‘It’s not going to strike him as a likely obstacle.’