One Summer in Crete

by Nadia Marks

  Paolo suggested that the two of them hire a couple of bicycles and volunteered to show Calli some remote parts of the island that she could simply enjoy at leisure now that David had approved her article. When they weren’t soaking up the sun on some hidden cove and swimming with dolphins, he involved Calli in his allocated jobs around the island – picking grapes, watering vegetable gardens – and continued teaching her yoga.

  ‘You’re getting pretty good, tesoro,’ he praised her. ‘Do you see how the natural balance returns when you practise often?’ It was true; Calli was indeed enjoying her daily lessons on the beach and could see that she was improving, but she couldn’t in all honesty say which factor was restoring her equilibrium. Was it the yoga or the sex that was making her face glow and left her feeling like singing most of the time? Whichever it was, the effect was spectacular. She hadn’t felt so alive, so carefree and joyous in years.

  ‘So, tesoro,’ Paolo had said one day as they sat under the shade of an olive tree, taking a break from watering a plot planted with cucumbers, courgettes and succulent tomatoes, ‘when you go back home will you come and visit us in Verona? It is beautiful, it is the city of passion, the city of Romeo and Giulietta, and I know Anna will love you . . .’ he continued cheerfully. ‘Then later me and Anna can come visit you in your London too, no?’

  ‘Er . . . yes . . .’ Calli started to reply. ‘I’m sure I would love her too . . .’ her voice trailed off as she reached down by her side for her bottle of water, aware that a surprising hesitancy stopped her from saying more. As she drank, buying a little time before continuing, she knew that her reluctance had not been because she didn’t want to meet Paolo’s daughter, but because England at that moment felt further away than the moon and she had absolutely no desire to think about London or make any plans for the future.

  Sensing her hesitation, Paolo too reached for his bottle of water, took a sip, then sprang to his feet and with a smile took Calli’s hand and pulled her up.

  ‘OK! Let’s go,’ he said cheerfully, putting an end to the awkwardness of the moment. ‘We must carry on with the watering, there’s still much to do.’ They spent the afternoon in good humour working on the land and neither of them mentioned the subject again. However, over the next few days they both considered their reaction to what had been said that morning. Paolo found that he was as surprised by his suggestion as Calli had been by her reaction. As a rule, he was not a man given to making too many plans and certainly not, where his daughter was concerned, with other people. There had been very few women with whom he had been romantically involved that he considered fit to introduce to his family. Calli, he mused, had apparently touched him in a way he did not expect, but Paolo was an intuitive man and understood that what he felt was not necessarily reciprocated. He hadn’t spent decades studying eastern philosophies and self-awareness not to detect another person’s feelings.

  For her part, given her initial enthusiasm about Paolo, Calli was equally perplexed at what it was that held her back from venturing further into his life. Meeting his daughter didn’t feel right. She considered it to be a big commitment, a step too far, and she was not ready for it. She loved spending time with Paolo – he was good company, she found him kind, good-natured and intriguing and enjoyed making love with him – but she had come to realize that her feelings went no further than that. If there was one thing she had learned recently, it was to listen to her inner voice. She had spent too many years going along with what she thought she needed, what she willed herself to want, confusing sexual attraction with love, too eager to please others, imagining that by doing so she was also pleasing herself. Paolo was a good man, he was indeed the healing salve to her wounds. He was helping her to recover, he was the transition from sadness to joy and she was loving spending a carefree summer with him. Yet her inner voice was telling her that what she now needed and wanted was something different, something else, and Paolo was not it. From now on she pledged to follow her instinct and hear that inner voice which so often spoke to her but which she had mostly chosen to ignore.

  11

  ‘Do you remember what I said when you asked me to give you my assessment of Paolo?’ Maya asked Calli while they walked along the beach one afternoon. ‘Does it make sense to you now?’

  ‘I do and it does,’ Calli replied, linking her arm through her friend’s as they splashed their way through the shallow surf. ‘It took me a little while, but I now understand. As you said, Paolo has been both beneficial and enlightening for me. I see that now.’

  ‘I am pleased, Calli dear; you have learned to listen to yourself,’ Maya replied. ‘You have learned to understand, not so much what you want, because often we don’t know that until we find it, but what it is that you don’t want. Paolo has been good for you, that’s obvious. You’ve blossomed through your friendship with him and your spirit has returned . . . but you have discovered that he’s not what you are really looking for, is he?’ Calli could not disagree. Talking to Maya, being able to voice her feelings, brought clarity to her thoughts.

  She had enjoyed every minute of her time in Ikaria but now in less than a week this summer idyll would end. Paolo would be leaving for Italy to collect his daughter and continue with his life, and Calli, who had been thinking increasingly of delaying her return to London, was now wavering between island-hopping for a few weeks longer, or perhaps going to Crete. Her decision was finally made for her when she received an unexpected email from her mother while sitting in a cafe.

  Calli darling, your dad and I are on our way to the Lake District but just this morning I got a message from my cousin Eleftheria to tell me that my sister is not well at all. You know your thia Froso, she wouldn’t tell us anything about it, not wanting to trouble us – but as you are not so far away, could you please go and visit the family in Crete and find out what’s going on? I’ll come immediately if you think I should . . .

  As soon as she was back in her hotel room, Calli called Eleni. Of course she would go, no question about it. Besides, mother and daughter had talked of taking a holiday together after Calli recovered, had discussed the possibility of a joint trip to Crete to visit Thia Froso and the rest of the family.

  ‘Do you know what’s wrong with her?’ Calli asked.

  ‘Not really, Eleftheria didn’t elaborate. Probably Froso swore her to secrecy. I can’t imagine it’s that serious. If it was, she would have contacted us earlier.’

  Perhaps this wasn’t quite how Calli had envisaged the rest of her holiday, but Crete was only a hop and skip away from Ikaria and it made perfect sense; she had to go, of course she would, and Eleni would follow. Meantime, she thought, she still had some days left to spend with Paolo and the rest of her new friends and she wanted to make the most of them. She had met some extraordinary people on this enchanting mythical blue zone of an island, and the friendships that had been formed during her time there she was certain would continue for a lifetime.

  ‘So, tell me about Crete,’ Paolo said to Calli one morning as they lay languidly after a swim on a smooth white rock that jutted into the sea like a pier. ‘Is it beautiful like Ikaria?’

  ‘It’s beautiful, but different,’ she replied, raising herself on her elbow to turn and look at him. ‘It’s quite wild, the landscape I mean, and the village where my relatives come from is quite remote. There is sea and there are mountains and you can go to both with equal ease. And the people are all . . . How can I describe them? I guess intense is one word, but loving, too.’

  ‘Tell me more about the people,’ Paolo said, rolling onto his side too, their faces so close their noses were almost touching. He moved even closer and gently kissed the tip of her nose. ‘I shall miss you, tesoro,’ he said, his voice a whisper.

  ‘I will miss you too,’ she replied and meant it. What she felt for Paolo was great tenderness and more. In the past, when she had fallen in love, sex would inevitably follow and when sex came into the mix her feelings would become charged: more anxious, a little insecure
and unsettled. But with Paolo, what followed after making love with him and what she sensed at that moment was a tranquil affection, of a kind that comes with untainted friendship. She could not remember ever having such relaxed and tender emotions for someone that she had been sexually involved with. He, she decided, had been sent to her not only to help her heal but to show her another way. She looked at Paolo’s face and tried to take a mental photograph, to imprint his features in her memory one by one so that at some point in the future, wherever she might be, she would be able to recall them and this moment.

  ‘I feel that our paths will always cross, our friendship will last,’ he said as if in agreement, as if he guessed her thoughts, and pulled her to him. They made love on the smooth white rock surrounded by the blue Ikarian sea to the sound of the seagulls circling above them and the breaking waves around them.

  ‘So, tell me about the people in your grandmother’s village?’ he asked again afterwards as they lay sleepily in each other’s arms, heat emanating from the rock, limbs heavy from their love-making.

  ‘There are many relatives . . . you know how it is, you are Italian!’ she laughed. ‘But most of the old ones have gone now . . . my grandmother was the head of the family.’

  ‘Yes, my nonna too,’ Paolo said, ‘from my mother’s side, she was a wonderful wise woman; she died when I was seventeen.’

  ‘I was almost twelve when mine went,’ Calli mused.

  ‘What about cousins, do you have cousins?’

  ‘Yeah, plenty of those too.’ She smiled with the memory of their multitude. ‘My brother and I used to play with some of them when we were young, but I haven’t seen any of them for ages.’

  ‘I know,’ Paolo let out a sigh. ‘My family live in Villafranca di Verona. It’s really close to Verona, but I don’t go as often as I should; always too busy, always travelling . . .’

  ‘It’s my auntie, my mother’s sister, I feel guilty about,’ Calli said as she stretched her arms above her head. ‘She is getting old and all alone and now she is not well. I haven’t seen her in years.’

  ‘It is good that you will make the journey then,’ Paolo said and reached across to stroke her hair.

  The days that followed, before everyone departed from Ikaria, were as celebratory as the ‘blood moon’ festivities had been when she first arrived. Each evening’s gathering on the beach became a boisterous party with food, drink and music and promises always to keep in touch. Calli would be the first to leave, now that she had made new travelling arrangements. Although she was excited about the second part of her journey, she was also sad that this surprising voyage of hers had come to an end.

  ‘You are heading towards a new adventure, my friend,’ Maya told her as they sat with Sylvie and some others on the beach the night before she left. ‘You are going to the place where Icarus and his father started their journey. The Ikarian myth does not end here . . . it follows you.’

  ‘I’ll miss you, dear Calli,’ Sylvie said. ‘Meeting you has been such a pleasure. You must come and see us. Berlin is not Ikaria, but it’s a wonderful city.’

  ‘No need for heavy hearts, my friends,’ Maya told them both, ‘we shall all meet again soon . . . I know!’ Calli turned to look at her and, as always, wondered what it was that this extraordinary woman professed she knew. ‘We will all be visiting you in Crete before too long,’ Maya continued with a beaming smile, ‘by next spring we will all be together again, I am sure of it.’

  ‘Count me in!’ Sylvie said and clapped her hands. ‘I’ve always wanted to visit Crete.’

  ‘OK then, let’s make a deal, let’s shake on it,’ Calli told them with delight and stretched out her arm. ‘Let’s promise that wherever we all are and whatever we are doing we will meet up in Crete next spring.’

  ‘It’s a deal and I promise,’ Sylvie said, shaking Calli’s hand vigorously.

  ‘The friendships that blossom on this island are for keeps,’ said Maya and put her arms around the two women sitting on either side of her. ‘Spring in Crete, then, it is!’

  The next morning the older woman insisted on taking Calli to the airport in her little car.

  ‘You really don’t have to do that,’ she protested.’ It’s a long journey and I can take a taxi just as I did when I arrived.’

  ‘I won’t hear of it,’ Maya reassured her. ‘Besides, we can enjoy a few more hours together and it will give me a chance to look around the town after I’ve dropped you off.’

  The return journey to the airport proved to be much more enjoyable than Calli’s arrival. Maya’s driving was a far cry from old Theo’s, and since the two friends had allowed plenty of time, they stopped for a picnic. Maya parked the car and led Calli down a gentle slope towards a giant boulder invisible from the road.

  ‘I find this particular rock formation very majestic,’ Maya said, spreading a cloth under its shade. She delved into the picnic basket and brought out freshly baked village bread, cheese, black grapes, ripe red tomatoes and juicy green olives. They ate with relish and after they had finished their meal they lay back on the warm earth, savouring the gentle breeze and the sound of the cicadas. Suddenly Maya sat up and turned to look at Calli. ‘You must walk forward and only look ahead,’ she said, snapping the younger woman out of her gentle drowsiness. ‘Turning back will do you no good. Look only to the future,’ she told her and reached for the flask of coffee to pour them both a drink. ‘Until we meet again, my friend,’ she said, smiling, and raised her cup to her lips.

  12

  Crete, 2018

  Calli’s flight touched down at Heraklion airport in the early evening. The sky was streaked in swirls of pink, the air fragrant and familiar. Whenever she and James had arrived on the island, they would either take a taxi or hire a car and drive to the village, although it would have given Calli far more pleasure to see some of the familiar faces of her family waiting at the Arrivals gate as they had always done when she was a child. He had never wanted that – he couldn’t be doing with their intensity, their fussing, their emotional reunions – so she complied.

  This time her cousin Costis was there to greet her. She had sent a text to tell him she was coming and his jubilation at the news of her arrival was touching. I hope you are not going to refuse me again, he replied immediately. I’ll be there to collect you. Send me your flight details. She had been out of touch for a long time and guilt rose in her throat as she messaged him back. Costis was not much older than Calli and she had always been fond of him; after her grandmother he was her favourite relative. They had been close as children, had spent each summer together when his two ‘English’ cousins visited Crete. He had been protective of both Calli and Alex, who were something of a novelty among the other children in the village; he had felt proud and privileged to have such exciting relatives visiting from England. Even though both siblings spoke perfectly good Greek, Costis relished teaching them the Cretan dialect spiced with certain words deemed unsuitable for children of their age. ‘Where did you learn to say that?!’ a furious Eleni would often shout, inevitably turning to scold the rascal culprit. But that was all such a long time ago – Costis had a wife she’d never met and two young children now and was running the family grocery store in the village. Yet whenever the cousins met their childhood connection was ignited and Calli could spot that same mischievous glint in his eye.

  ‘Calliope! Over here!’ she heard Costis call out her name in full, the Greek way, the name of her grandmother. He spotted her looking around for him among a crowd of visitors and ran smiling towards her. ‘Welcome back, my little cousin,’ he said, engulfing her in a warm embrace and landing a loud kiss on each cheek. ‘How long has it been?’

  ‘Too long!’ she said, kissing him back.

  The drive to the village reminded her of the taxi ride she had made a few weeks previously in Ikaria. As they left the airport and headed for the hills the sea behind them shimmered in the evening light, reflecting shades of gold, and the undulating land was covered with
olive groves as far as the eye could see. The city of Heraklion stretching across the valley rose like a concrete forest and she was glad to leave it behind and begin the ascent through the hills towards the village. When she was young her grandfather would pick them up from the airport along with her yiayia and Thia Froso, who would often insist on coming along too. Then they would all be squashed into the car like sardines and either she or Alex or both would have to sit on an adult’s lap, with the result that as the road snaked through the mountains one or other child would start to feel carsick. But of course, as soon as they arrived at their destination the discomfort was all worthwhile and both children forgot about their nausea. On those summer visits long ago, as they drove into the village, more often than not some of the local kids who considered Calli and her brother a source of curiosity and amusement would spot the car and start running after them. They would chase them up the hill to the house, where other relatives and friends would have gathered to welcome them.

  ‘So please tell me, how is Thia Froso?’ she asked Costis, surprised that he had not yet raised the subject.

  ‘You probably don’t realize it, but you couldn’t have come at a better time,’ he replied as he masterfully manoeuvred yet another hairpin bend over a steep ravine.

  ‘I think I do . . .’ she replied, not sure if he was referring to her aunt’s illness. ‘It’s Thia Froso, she’s not well, right?’

  ‘Oh! You know about it . . . I wasn’t sure if you did,’ he said as he flicked his cigarette ash out of the open window. ‘My mother spends quite a lot of time with her lately, taking her to the hospital etc.’

  ‘Yes, I know, your mother sent my mother an email about it. That’s why I am here now . . . I thought I mentioned it in my text.’

  ‘You probably did, but I was so pleased you were coming I forgot.’