A Greek Affair

by Linn B. Halton

  His comment surprises me.

  ‘I wouldn’t have taken you for an old movie buff. Are you a Casablanca fan too?’

  He nods. ‘My mother’s influence, I’m afraid.’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with that,’ I respond, truthfully. Harrison is wearing a very smart dark grey suit with a white shirt and a mauve tie. Old-style he’d be described as dashing; a man who feels very comfortable in more formal attire. The hint of grey around his temples suits him and doesn’t make him look old, more dependable.

  ‘Should I be worried by that look you’re giving me?’

  I didn’t realise I was studying him that intently.

  ‘Sorry, no, I was just thinking how nice it is to be able to dress up for a change.’ Liar – you hate posh frocks. Saying that simply to try to disguise the fact you were staring at him means you’ve now given him the wrong impression. ‘Not that I’d want to do that very often, of course, as it’s not really my style.’

  Suddenly I feel very hot and bothered.

  ‘Really? Well, I didn’t like to pass comment but as you’ve raised the subject that is a rather spectacular dress.’

  He arches his eyebrows and quickly raises his wine glass in the air.

  ‘To your first night onboard ship. May there be many more in the future.’

  We clink glasses and my first taste of the rich, almost plum-coloured wine fills my mouth with hints of blackberries and, rather pleasantly, apples. Obviously, I’m no wine connoisseur and a smile begins to creep over my face.

  ‘What is it?’ Harrison gives me a suspicious look. He thinks I’m laughing at him.

  ‘I lead a very quiet life, usually. This sort of luxurious experience is all very new to me,’ I admit. I think it’s time to be honest with him.

  ‘What exactly is your job? Are you some sort of test shopper, employed by companies who want to run a check on their customer service status?’

  Two waiters arrive at our table, each carrying a plate with a silver dome over the top on an upturned hand. With one deft movement, and perfectly synchronised, the plates are laid before us and the domes removed.

  ‘Wonderful, thank you.’ The service really is as good as the food, which scores ten out of ten for presentation.

  While we eat I explain what I do in detail and Harrison looks mildly surprised by the number of hours I spend online.

  ‘Doesn’t that make home life rather difficult? How do you maintain that work-life balance?’

  Do I skirt the issue? I decide there’s little point as our paths will never cross again. There’s a sense of anonymity in telling a stranger something you’d hesitate to tell a close friend you see on a regular basis.

  ‘My daughter is my life and the focus is on providing for us both. I’m in a happy place now and I’ve achieved that by deciding I don’t need a significant other in my life. It’s been liberating, actually, after what I’ve been through.’

  He frowns. ‘That sounds bad. You see, I hate being alone as you’ve probably guessed. I need company. I’m a workaholic, too, but when I’m not working I need to keep busy. I’ve never been the sort to go and lie on a beach all day. But most things are more fun with someone by your side. My someone just happened to be the biggest mistake of my life.’

  It’s my turn to frown, sympathetically. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. The pain will pass, it always does.’ My pain passed, it just took nearly seven years – but the anger still remains fresh.

  ‘It was wrong from the start. I married my boss’s daughter and why on earth I thought that was going to work, goodness knows. She was high maintenance and hard to please. A daddy’s girl who was spoiled from the moment she was born. My mother did warn me.’

  ‘Mums, eh? Mine worries about me all the time. She thinks being alone is the worst thing in the world. Thankfully my disastrous, all-consuming love gave me Rosie. She is worth every single second of the agony of losing the man I thought I’d love forever. But that was before he showed his true colours, of course.’

  It isn’t until I finish speaking that I realise Harrison has stopped eating and his jaw is sagging.

  ‘I’m sorry, that was way too heavy. I’m not usually that forthcoming.’ I take a large gulp of wine, hoping the alcohol will soon kick in and begin to relax me.

  ‘That’s tough. It’s hard to trust again, I should imagine. At least in my situation it wasn’t really love, even from the start. I sort of knew that, but if you haven’t ever experienced it before, then you don’t know for sure. She is a very beautiful woman but that instant attraction thing doesn’t last long. If you have nothing else in common, life soon becomes a constant string of arguments.’

  This time we both raise our glasses to our lips but as we put them back down on the table we’re smiling at each other.

  ‘You can rest assured that I’m not looking for a relationship, or a holiday fling, but I do enjoy, and appreciate, good company. Let me show you around, no strings attached. When we part I won’t even ask for your number, honestly,’ he says openly.

  I nod. ‘I was thinking the exact same thing. You have no idea how out of my depth I feel on this floating city. Any help you are happy to give is most gratefully received.’

  We toast each other and suddenly I feel I’m in safe hands and I can relax.

  ‘Right, get out your notepad and I’ll give you a few interesting facts and figures that will be perfect for your article.’

  The Morning After the Night Before

  Oh, how my head aches this morning. I had two glasses of wine and three cocktails after our extensive tour of decks four and five. Harrison was true to his word; he does know the layout of this ship very well. I discovered two of the other restaurants, the coffee bar and café, the business centre and a massive lounge the other side of the concierge and reception area. We popped our heads into the upper level of the theatre, which is two decks high. Harrison suggested we catch a show there tonight so I can savour the full experience. He told me he can sort the tickets and it wasn’t a problem.

  Everything is immaculate, of an extraordinary quality and even the lounges are sumptuous and individually designed. Almost like film sets, where a space is transformed into an experience that will transport you into another time and place. We visited a vast library and once inside it could easily have been on land somewhere, wrapped up in an old stone building. Each restaurant is so unique that just the surroundings are a delight in themselves, quite aside from the gourmet cuisine on offer.

  And that was only deck five. Down on deck four was where we lingered over cocktails while visiting the casino. I’m not a gambler and I don’t usually drink more than a glass or two of wine, but the cocktails seemed like a good idea at the time. Afterwards we visited yet another lounge area where we had several cups of black coffee before saying goodnight. I crawled into bed, my head already beginning to buzz, but feeling content. My notebook is filling up and I managed to get some great photos.

  I ease open first one eye and then, very gingerly, the second one. Why on earth I didn’t draw the curtains last night, I don’t know. Glancing out of the patio doors I can see that we’re in port again and, to my horror, there is another ship docked right alongside ours! Not only is it hard to believe we sailed over night and we’re in Portovenere this morning, but my room is now on full display to the ship parallel to us. I vault out of bed to find the handset to close the curtains, which is a rather rude awakening given my tender state.

  When I told Harrison I was going ashore today as we don’t set sail again until 5 p.m. he asked if I’d like some company. I jumped at the offer because I wasn’t relishing the thought of wandering around alone. Or worse, other sightseers making polite conversation because that’s what good people do when it’s obvious someone is a lone traveller. In return, I agreed to have dinner with him this evening before we catch the show. He told me he’d make the necessary arrangements and we agreed to meet this morning in the café.

  Reluctantly, I drag myself out of bed
to experience the rainforest again, full force. It certainly does the trick and within an hour I’m feeling much better and surprisingly refreshed. I dress quite casually in navy linen trousers with a pale blue top. I manage to find my way down to the café on deck five without getting lost once. But as I’m looking around I can’t see Harrison anywhere.

  I turn, wandering off with the intention of doing a little window shopping, when I spot him. He waves and I begin walking towards him.

  ‘Sorry, Leah. I overslept. Didn’t even hear the alarm going off and that’s unusual for me.’

  He stands there rather awkwardly and then leans in to give me a quick hug. It’s brief enough to be simply a ‘good morning’ and as he pulls away I give him a big smile.

  ‘Well, my head was very tender first thing this morning,’ I admit. ‘Now I feel good but I’m in need of coffee, strong coffee. And a croissant.’

  We idle away an hour over a simple breakfast. He explains that Portovenere is a medieval fishing village and it isn’t an arduous walking tour.

  ‘I took the liberty of booking us a taxi into the city centre rather than catching one of the tours. They set off too early, anyway. Besides, last night I felt that we both needed to have a little fun and lighten up so a gentle start to the day was necessary.’ He beams at me, possibly carrying just a little guilt for last night’s indulgences. I distinctly remember him saying ‘one more won’t hurt’ – but it totally did.

  After several large cups of coffee we leave two half-finished croissants and head off to find our taxi. Large cruise ships are berthed at the new Molo Garibaldi, which is two kilometres away from Portovenere. Sitting on the Ligurian coast it turns out to be a sprawling port and the berths extend way out into the ocean on a series of jetties.

  The town itself is a hub of beautiful old stone buildings. The backdrop is one of luscious green vegetation, over land rising up behind the heart of the original fishing village. Distinctive with its waterside row of six-storey buildings painted in an array of colours – from pale yellows and greens, to a soft terracotta – it’s picturesque.

  ‘It looks top-heavy,’ I can’t help remarking. ‘Almost as if it could all topple into the water. With so many windows at varying levels, different balconies and an array of shutters, it looks busy. I thought the promenade would be wider but it is lovely with all the small boats moored up along the edge.’

  ‘Ah, that’s the charm of it,’ Harrison agrees.

  We stop to watch some fishermen offloading their catch, the smell of the sea surrounding us with a saltiness you can almost taste. That fresh, sharp tang is a reminder that fish dishes don’t get any fresher than those served by the local restaurants.

  Wandering around the shopping area it’s bustling with people: full of restaurants and an assortment of shops. After about an hour we make the gentle climb up to San Puerto, the church of St Peter. It stands on the edge of a rocky promontory overlooking the deep blue Mediterranean Sea. Standing watch over the entrance to the port, alongside the castle Doria with its sturdy fortress walls, it dominates the scenery. Almost menacingly so.

  ‘It’s very Game of Thrones, isn’t it, with the flinty grey, mottled stone and the way it all seems to rise up out of the rock? There’s an overwhelming sense of the medieval about this place. It sends a shiver right through me.’

  Harrison nods. ‘Yes, it’s a wonderful example of the Genovese Gothic style.’

  He leads us along the north wall of the castle. We get to peek out of the keyhole-like slits to glimpse a view in miniature of sea, rocky cliffs and sky. I can imagine the soldiers with their crossbows ready to defend the port.

  As we look down over the edge of the cliff we see people jumping into the water from various rocky ledges.

  ‘Ooh, that’s quite a way they’re jumping.’ I watch in amazement as one by one a small group line up, waiting their turn.

  Harrison raises his arm, pointing to the curving, rocky cliff to our left. ‘Do you see that cave? That’s La Grotta di Byron, where the poet Byron used to swim. They call this the Gulf of Poets.’

  It is stunningly beautiful, especially as today there isn’t a cloud in sight and the water is a pure shade of topaz blue. No wonder so many writers, poets and artists found their way here.

  It’s a fun couple of hours and we take it in turns behind the camera, trying to capture some perfect shots for my readers.

  We leisurely wander back down into town and find a little café to grab a drink and sample the local focaccia. It’s about an inch thick and stuffed with cheese and meat. Topped with sea salt and rosemary, it’s sliced into wedges and the perfect finger food to accompany a glass of Le Pinete; this local wine carries a very pleasant, slightly sweet scent.

  ‘A good choice.’ I raise my glass briefly in the air and look across at Harrison. He’s hungrily tucking into the focaccia.

  ‘I’ve been here before,’ he admits.

  I watch him eating, curious about why I’m so content to be in Harrison’s company when he’s little more than a stranger. There’s nothing other than a little harmless banter going on between us, which is a fun kind of distraction. He’s very attractive, in a huggable way, like a big teddy bear. Or maybe it’s more about allowing myself to get to know him because he’s a genuinely good person and when you find one, you want to hold onto them.

  ‘I’m sensing you have someone new in your life, am I right? And she might have been in the frame for a while before your ex-wife found out. Although I’m totally sure nothing would have happened before she left you, as that’s not your style. You’re a gentleman, Harrison.’

  Now Harrison is studying my face intently and I can see he’s suddenly nervous for some reason.

  ‘Maybe.’ He puts a half-eaten slice of bread back onto his plate, wiping his fingers on a napkin as he looks directly at me.

  Why is he being cautious now when he’s already told me about his ex and that didn’t seem to faze him at all?

  ‘I’m a good listener if there’s something you want to share.’

  I can feel the turmoil which is now so visible in his eyes as he takes a gulp of his wine. He replaces the glass on the table, twisting the stem idly with his fingers and watching the pale, yellow liquid swirl around inside of it.

  ‘Funnily enough, we met on a cruise, a little over six months ago. Ollie is good looking, intelligent and great company. The attraction was instant and it rocked me to the core.’

  Ah. Now I understand. By the look on his face I think that it’s still something he’s grappling with and that saddens me.

  ‘You haven’t come out then, I mean, officially?’ I’m surprised that a confident person like Harrison should feel the need to hide anything at all from the world at large. It’s who he is and that isn’t something of which to feel afraid.

  ‘It’s about hurting the people you love. Mainly my parents, I suppose. My ex isn’t sure about what’s going on because you’re right, I couldn’t have been unfaithful to her. But I couldn’t deny my feelings either and I guess I wasn’t really sure, myself, until I met Ollie. None of my work colleagues are aware because I keep my private life quiet.’

  ‘But you are going to embrace it, now?’

  ‘It’s not just a case of building up the courage to say the words but I will be crossing a line and unable to turn back. Even though I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life before, I don’t know if I have the courage to carry through my convictions. I hate myself for that.’

  ‘Pass me your phone.’ Harrison looks at me quizzically but places his phone in my outstretched hand. I add my number to his contact list.

  ‘There you go. If you need to talk then I’m only a phone call away. You must be true to yourself and to Ollie, Harrison, because you are a good man. You deserve a happy life. Don’t put this off any longer. When you return I want you to text me and let me know when it’s done.’

  Harrison nods, placing his phone back down on the table.

  ‘Ollie is a decent guy a
nd he understands that we all have to make the journey in our own way and at our own pace. He knows he’s the one for me and we both knew that right from the start. But for me, it’s a lot to get my head around, I will admit.’

  I sigh. ‘That’s a beautiful thing to say, Harrison. I’d hoped Antonio was the one for me but unfortunately the man I fell in love with didn’t really exist. Good looks and charm were merely a smokescreen. But, I can understand exactly where you are coming from and it’s wonderful when it turns out to be the real thing.’

  Harrison’s eyes crinkle up in a laugh.

  ‘Ollie was jealous, when I told him about our little trip around Monaco but I explained that he had nothing at all to worry about. You’re one of the good ones, Leah. He couldn’t get time off work and so it’s yet another solo trip for me.’ Finally, Harrison is looking more relaxed and, I think, relieved. Like he was testing the water and not sure what my reaction might be. I wonder if I’m the first person he’s actually told?

  ‘Oh no, poor guy. You were right when you said you’re safe with me anyway, because I’m really, really, out of practice at the flirting thing. Even if you had been looking for a little romantic interlude. You have a generous heart, though, Harrison, and I think Ollie is a very lucky guy. You saw that I was struggling a little to find my feet on this trip and your kindness has really been appreciated.’ Sometimes the people you decide you want in your life just happen to appear; you instantly know they will make you feel good whenever they are around. Harrison is one of those people.

  ‘And I had no idea someone new was going to come into my life and give me the push I needed. I know that I would never feel complete without Ollie by my side, but it’s great to finally admit that to someone other than him. Thank you.’

  Our eyes meet and suddenly the waitress is back, looking hesitant to interrupt. We burst out laughing – we are having a moment, but it’s not the one she’s assuming.

  Harrison indicates that we’ve finished and she hurries away with our plates. He immediately lifts his glass in a toast.