As Greek as It Gets: A fun, feel-good romantic comedy

by Sue Roberts

  Halfway downstairs, I hear the ping of a text message and head upstairs again to the bathroom to retrieve my mobile phone. Glancing around the tiled room in muted shades of brown and beige, with fluffy white towels on the rack, I recall the pink plastic suite that was here when we first moved in. Max and I took forever deliberating on how it should be replaced. His first choice was a completely white, tiled room with black and silver fixtures and fittings, which somehow reminded me of a bathroom in a horror movie, as I imagined the white tiles smeared in blood. He laughed at me and said he would never understand what went on inside my mind, but he realised it must helpful to have such a vivid imagination when it came to my painting. When I think about it, we do tend to disagree on quite a lot of things when it comes to décor, but these kinds of issues are easily resolved with some sort of compromise. I relented over Max’s ideas for the lounge, which, actually, is very warm and my favourite room in the house.

  The message on my phone is from Max, telling me that he will be late home this evening and not to make him any dinner. I feel a sickness in my stomach as I wonder what’s going through his head and reply saying I hope he isn’t too late as I think we need to talk. He doesn’t reply.

  This morning at work, I make a couple of mistakes and almost forget to scan a £50 vase that a customer is about to place in their bag, along with a few other items. My boss Gail notices and takes over the transaction with a smile, scanning the said item and telling me to take a break.

  ‘Okay, what’s going on?’ She hands me a coffee in the small canteen at the back of the shop. ‘You never make mistakes and it’s not the first one this morning. At least the first customer was honest enough to tell you that you had given him twenty quid too much in his change. Not like the old crone who would have been out of the shop in a flash with that vase, if I hadn’t noticed.’

  ‘I know, I’m so sorry, Gail. I didn’t have a very good sleep last night.’

  ‘Want to talk about it?’ She takes a seat opposite me at the small table.

  ‘The shop’s busy.’ I take a long slurp of coffee and stand up to leave.

  ‘The till is covered.’ She gently pushes me back down onto my chair. ‘So, what’s up?’

  I tell her about me confessing to Max that I kissed someone on holiday and that I spent all evening chatting to the same man in a hotel room. As the words come out of my mouth it sounds really bad. No wonder Max reacted the way he did.

  ‘Wow.’ Gail takes a deep breath. ‘So now you’re beating yourself up about it? Believe me, we all do daft things on holiday. You do love Max, and still want to marry him, don’t you?’

  ‘Of course I do. That’s why it’s all such a mess. I can’t forget the hurt look on his face.’ I run my hands through my hair, which I didn’t take as much care blow-drying this morning and seems to be slowly morphing into Coco the Clown’s wig.

  ‘Listen,’ she says firmly, looking me in the eyes. ‘Holidays have a tendency to make people behave differently, but it’s not real life. It’s especially easy to lose your head on a Greek island, for goodness’ sake. That mix of gorgeous weather and food, the hunky laid-back men, it’s enough to weaken the resolve of a nun. I dumped a perfectly nice boyfriend in the early nineteen nineties for a holiday romance I had in Kefalonia. Spiros seduced me with flowery words and romantic walks along the beach. All very innocent at first, but we knew exactly where it was going as he reeled me in.’

  There’s a sudden faraway look in Gail’s eyes as she presses on with the story.

  ‘Anyway. It was a wonderful two weeks, and a few nights before the end of the holiday he invited us to a party and we danced and kissed and’ – she pauses for a minute – ‘we spent the entire night together. I was in a complete dream on the flight home and my poor boyfriend Darren, a carpet-fitter from Wigan, didn’t really stand a chance after that. I was utterly smitten. A few weeks later, I flew over to Kefalonia for a long weekend to surprise Spiros and, in true cliché style, he was already schmoozing his next conquest. A two-year relationship with Darren was over, although to be fair he wasn’t really the love of my life. He said my lifelong addiction to George Michael was unhealthy so it would never have lasted in the long run. But it’s different with you. You and Max are made for each other, anybody can see that. Don’t let a silly holiday infatuation ruin things.’

  Gail has got to know Max over the years and we’ve even been on a couple of nights out together, so I allow myself to be reassured by her words.

  ‘Tell that to Max. I wish I’d never opened my mouth in the first place. So much for honesty.’

  ‘You don’t need to tell Max every little thing, you know. Sometimes, when we omit to tell someone something, it’s to spare their feelings. You know the saying “what you don’t know can’t hurt you”… I mean it’s not as if you were considering anything serious with this Greek bloke, is it?’

  ‘No, of course not.’

  Well… at least that’s what I tell myself. I’m certain I would have halted things had they gone any further. I have to be. And when I think about what it could have cost me and how much I would have hurt Max if I really had let myself get carried away with Vangelis, I feel so relieved that he behaved like a complete gentleman.

  ‘Then you need to toughen up a bit. Stop being so sensitive. And so blinking honest!’

  I attempt to return to the shop after the chat with Gail, but she pushes me gently down onto the chair again.

  ‘And you need to stand up for yourself more and stop being so accommodating. You should have told Max exactly what kind of wedding you wanted from the off instead of leaving it to other people.’

  ‘But I—’

  ‘I haven’t finished. Leaving it to Molly and Max left you with little say in how things were organised. Don’t let people, however much you love them, take over your life. And don’t even get me started on how you run around after your mother.’

  ‘I’m getting better at that.’ I hang my head, absorbing the harsh truths Gail has just unleashed on me.

  ‘If you say so, but you seem to fly into a panic every time she texts or phones. Just because she’s your mum doesn’t mean you have to indulge her every whim. Especially when she seems to let you down at the drop of a hat.’

  Gail has been witness to many such occasions over the two years we have worked together in the shop.

  ‘You’re a truly nice person, Alice, but you need to learn how to say no. Maybe I should get you assertiveness classes for your wedding gift!’

  ‘Maybe you’re right. Although I do feel more confident than I’ve felt in a long time. That holiday did me the world of good, although I don’t suppose I can hop on a plane every time I’m feeling a bit stressed.’

  When I finish my coffee and head back into the front of the shop, I realise with a heavy heart that everything Gail has said is true. And of course she’s right about the thing with Vangelis. How could it have been anything more than a holiday infatuation? I never really got to know the man after all. I forgot about my life back home for a brief few days, indulging in a selfish fantasy that was never meant to be. The problem is, now that I am back to my real life, I’m worried I may have ruined it forever.

  Twenty

  It’s late when I hear the closing of a car door and, as I look out of the window, I’m surprised to see Max getting out of a taxi. As he walks into the lounge, he appears to be a little drunk. Max has never been a big drinker, as he can’t really hold his alcohol too well. He’s still in his work suit and takes his tie off before tossing it on the sofa and flopping down next to it.

  ‘Would you like a coffee?’ I ask.

  ‘I’m not drunk. I’ve just had a few beers at the pub. I invited the staff for a drink. I should do it more often.’ Normally Max has a silly smile on his face after a beer or two, but not tonight.

  ‘Have you left the car at the office?’

  ‘Yep.’

  It’s clear Max isn’t in the mood to talk, at least not in a way that will lead to
us resolving anything, so I tell him I’m going to go upstairs to bed and he shrugs his shoulders at me. I’m halfway up the stairs when suddenly anger overtakes me. I know I’ve hurt him but we need to discuss things like grown adults, but he’s retreated into his shell and decided to give me the silent treatment.

  I find Max in the kitchen making a coffee that he seemingly did want after all.

  ‘Are we going to sort this out? I thought you might have come home earlier this evening to talk. We’re getting married soon, in case you’ve forgotten.’

  ‘In case I’ve forgotten. That’s a laugh,’ he sneers.

  ‘Max, please. I know I’ve hurt you and I’m truly sorry.’ I try to remain calm, because a huge argument is the last thing I want right now. ‘The evening at the hotel was spent chatting, nothing more, and the goodbye kiss… well, it was a moment of madness, that’s all. My life is here with you and I wouldn’t want it to be any other way. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything, but I never want there to be any secrets between us. That’s the reason I told you. Now, please, tell me what you need so that we can move past this.’

  I think of all the people who go on holiday and have indiscretions, just like Gail at the shop did all those years ago, and they shrug and say, ‘What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas’, but I’m not like that. I could never keep something like that to myself, I would be racked with guilt. Although maybe Gail is right in saying some things are better left unsaid to avoid hurting people. Maybe I was a little overwhelmed by the wedding numbers and just wanted to let loose for a while rather than having it out with Max and scaling the wedding back to something we could both agree on.

  Max is silent as the coffee machine pours a drink into the cup I bought him when he first started up his business. It has the saying ‘Fortune Favours the Brave’ written on one side. I found it in a little gift shop on our first weekend away together, when we stayed in a pretty cottage in the Lake District. Suddenly I find myself choking back tears, remembering all the wonderful times we’ve shared together and, not for the first time, cursing myself for putting our future in jeopardy.

  ‘Max, please say something.’

  He walks back to the lounge, sits back down on the sofa and takes a long slurp of his coffee. ‘What do you want me to say?’

  ‘We have to talk about this,’ I plead. I’ve never known Max behave this way. ‘I need you to tell me that everything is going to be okay. I love you, Max, you know that. You must trust me. I’ve been honest with you. How can we fix it now?’

  ‘You were only honest because you felt guilty. And why is it that I can’t get it out of my head that something happened in that hotel room,’ he says in a low voice.

  ‘I had nothing to feel guilty about. I’ve told you for the umpteenth time we were just talking in that room. Believe what you like, I’m not going through it all again.’

  Thoughts are swirling around my head as I wonder if I deserve Max’s forgiveness. It’s true we were simply talking that night, but Vangelis was the best listener I have ever known. He was calm and thoughtful, in contrast to Max, who usually makes light of any concerns I may have, turning everything into a joke. I’ve discussed some of my childhood with him, obviously, and, although he was sympathetic, I know Max is the type of person who feels that you shouldn’t be defined by your past. He’s such a positive, inspiring person, who believes in always looking to the future, and maybe I ought to feel that way too.

  ‘Only you can decide if you trust me or not.’

  ‘That’s the trouble, isn’t it?’ he says, looking at me searchingly. ‘I’m not sure that I do.’

  Twenty-One

  ‘Alice!’ Ria gasps in surprise as I announce my arrival at her flat through the intercom outside. She presses the buzzer to let me up.

  When I left the house this evening I didn’t have a clear idea of where to go. I thought about heading to Mum’s, but I know she goes to bed religiously at ten thirty each night after watching the news. Plus, I couldn’t have faced a lecture. I knew Ria would welcome me with open arms, no questions asked.

  When I arrive at the door of her flat, she is standing there, dressed in a grey satin dressing gown, with her copper hair slightly tousled and a faint stain of red lipstick on her lips, making her look like a 1950s film star.

  ‘What’s happened?’ she asks, as she crushes me in a hug before leading me into her kitchen, where she pours us each a small gin from a bottle she has retrieved from a glossy white kitchen cupboard. Ria had the whole flat redecorated last year, after she had an unexpected payout from some mis-sold insurance. It’s decorated stylishly, in contrasting shades of white and teal, with touches of mustard soft furnishings and vases of fresh flowers. There’s a large canvas of the Palm House at Sefton Park – one of Ria’s favourite places – on the kitchen wall, painted by yours truly. I gave it to her as a flat-warming present, when she bought the place five years ago. She’d been renting up until then and had saved steadily until she had the deposit for her own place.

  ‘Medicinal. I wouldn’t normally offer you a drink at this hour.’ Ria hands me the glass and I glance at my watch and realise it’s almost midnight.

  ‘I’m so sorry to disturb you. I know you have work in the morning, I didn’t know where—’

  Ria presses her finger against my lips to silence me and I cry into my gin as I tell her all about Max and his harshness in our fight.

  ‘I just needed to get out of that house. He doesn’t trust me and I don’t know how we can go into a marriage where there’s no trust. I should never have gone to bloody Crete. Gail was probably right; I am a wimp who needs to stand up for myself more.’

  ‘She called you that?’ Despite the situation, Ria can’t help smiling.

  ‘She did. And she suggested I go to assertiveness classes.’

  Ria has told me many times that I’m a bit soft and should assert myself more, but I don’t suppose I’ve ever really listened as I dislike confrontation, such is the irony.

  ‘Listen here, stop beating yourself up. Everything will be alright between you two, I’m sure of it. You’re probably both a bit stressed about the wedding. Of course Max trusts you, he’s clearly just processing what happened. I know he insists on taking on a lot of the plans, but he has a high-pressure job too, remember? I’m surprised he hasn’t burnt out but I guess that’s what happens when you’re a control freak. Well, in the nicest possible way,’ she adds, obviously not wanting to appear too rude.

  It’s true Max likes to oversee a lot of things himself, especially when it comes to matters of the business, as, I guess, many self-employed people do. I like to think his decisiveness complements my ‘go-with-the-flow’ and, at times, indecisive nature, but perhaps I’ve become too much of a doormat, and I worry what that could mean for us in the long term.

  Half an hour later, having had a good cry on Ria’s shoulder, I’m ensconced in her cosy guest bedroom, inhaling the smell of freshly laundered cotton sheets, but, despite feeling utterly exhausted, I find I’m unable to drift off to sleep. Ten minutes later I can hear Ria gently snoring through the wall from the next room and the sound, far from being annoying, is strangely soothing. I feel blessed to have such a wonderful friend as Ria in my life and don’t know what I’d do without her. I’ve struggled a little with knowing what to do with my art degree, but I wouldn’t change a thing about it as it gave me my friendships with Ria and Kerry, and that is worth more to me than anything.

  As I lie awake, I relive the moment Max quietly told me he didn’t know if he trusted me and I’m filled with despair. Can I blame him? Would I believe Max if he told me he had spent the night in a woman’s hotel room on a stag do, claiming it was all perfectly innocent? I think so. But would I believe him if he said it had been with Rachel? I don’t know. Shouldn’t there be an unshakeable trust between two people in any situation?

  I take my phone from my bag to see if Max has texted me, but there’s nothing. I pull the covers over me and cry gently into my pillow, as I
consider the possibility that I may have ruined things between us and wonder what on earth tomorrow will bring.

  Twenty-Two

  The next morning, as I head into work on the train, my mum phones and asks me what is going on between Max and me. It seems bad news travels fast. My head is thumping, because I hardly got a wink of sleep last night, so a conversation with Mum is the last thing I need right now.

  ‘Nothing, I just stayed at Ria’s last night,’ I tell her, wondering what on earth Max has said. She must have heard it from him, but why has she contacted him yet again? As Mum continues the conversation, she informs me that she bumped into Max outside the newsagent’s this morning in the village. She asked him if we wanted to go for dinner at her house one evening, as we’d had to cancel the last one, and he shrugged and said he’d ask me when he saw me. I can’t help but see this as a good sign: Max didn’t say outright that we would never be going to Mum’s for dinner together again.

  ‘Well, something’s going on, I can tell. Max looked as though he’d hardly slept a wink.’

  That makes two of us then.

  Her silence usually elicits a long explanation from me, but not today. There’s no way I’m going into all the details of what happened the previous evening, so I tell her I needed to call on Ria about something and ended up staying the night. I’m not sure I’ll ever tell her what’s happened between Max and me as I’m certain she would sit in judgement and I’d never hear the end of it.

  ‘If you say so,’ she says eventually. ‘Anyway, I was trying to rearrange our dinner date.’ I can’t believe Mum is so keen to have us over, but decide to take it as a positive thing. ‘I hardly see anyone these days and you’re always both so busy. Having Lexie to stay with me for a while reminded me of how nice it is to have family round, because most of the time it’s just me and Rex.’